“She is not your niece.”
“Nay, she is more—she is my queen.”
“You will have to teach her French, as when you get to London—”
“I am not going to take her there; she wants to return to Venice.”
“I pity you if you are in love with her! I hope she will dine with us?”
“Oh, yes! she is delighted with the honour.”
“And we are delighted to have our poor repast animated by such a charming person.”
“You will find her worthy of your company; she is full of wit.”
When I got back to the inn I told Marcoline that if anything was said at dinner about her return to Venice, she was to reply that no one could make her return except M. Querini, but that if she could have his protection she would gladly go back with him.
“I will draw you out of the difficulty,” said I; and she promised to carry out my instructions.