At the time appointed we waited on the ambassadors, and found that all the other guests had assembled. Marcoline, as blithe and smiling as before, first accosted M. Querini, and then did the polite to all the company. A few minutes before dinner Mattio brought in his master’s spectacles on a silver tray. Marcoline, who was sitting next to M. Querini, stopped short in something she was saying, and staring at the man, exclaimed in a questioning voice,—
“My uncle?”
“Yes, my dear niece.”
Marcoline flung herself into his arms, and there was a moving scene, which excited the admiration of all.
“I knew you had left Venice, dear uncle, but I did not know you were in his excellency’s service. I am so glad to see you again! You will tell my father and mother about me? You see I am happy. Where were you yesterday?”
“Here.”
“And you didn’t see me?”
“Yes; but your uncle there . . .”
“Well,” said I, laughing, “let us know each other, cousin, and be good friends. Marcoline, I congratulate you on having such an honest man for an uncle.”
“That is really very fine,” said M. Querini; and everybody exclaimed, “Very affecting, very affecting indeed!”