“Why, most distinguished lady?” again asked Trenta, submissively, closing the door, and advancing to where she sat.  He bent down his head and kissed her hand, then smiled at Enrica.  “What have I done?”

“Done?  You know you never came last night at all.  I missed my game of whist.  I do not sleep well without it.”

“But, marchesa,” pleaded Trenta, in the gentlest voice, “I am desolated, as you can conceive—­desolated; but what could I do?  Yesterday was the festival of the Holy Countenance, that solemn anniversary that brings prosperity to our dear city!” And the cavaliere cast up his mild blue eyes, and crossed himself upon the breast.  “I was most of the day in the cathedral.  Such a service!  Better music than last year.  In the evening I had promised to arrange the cotillon at Countess Orsetti’s ball.  As chamberlain to his late highness the Duke of Lucca, it is expected of me to organize every thing.  One can leave nothing to that animal Baldassare—­he has no head, no system; he dances well, but like a machine.  The ball was magnificent—­a great success,” he continued, speaking rapidly, for he saw that a storm was gathering on the marchesa’s brow, by the deepening of the wrinkles between her eyes.  “A great success.  I took a few turns myself with Teresa Ottolini—­tra la la la la,” and he swayed his head and shoulders to and fro as he hummed a waltz-tune.

“You!” exclaimed the marchesa, staring at him with a look of contempt—­“you!”

“Yes.  Why not?  I am as young as ever, dear marchesa—­eighty, the prime of life!”

“The festival of the Holy Countenance and the cotillon!” cried the marchesa, with great indignation.  “Tell me nothing about the Orsetti ball.  I won’t listen to it.  Good Heavens!” she continued, reddening, “I am thirty years younger than you are, but I left off dancing fifteen years ago.  You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Cesarino!”

Cesarino only smiled at her benignantly in reply.  She had called him a fool so often!  He seated himself beside her without speaking.  He had come prepared to entertain her with an account of every detail of the ball; but seeing the temper she was in, he deemed it more prudent to be silent—­to be silent specially about Count Nobili.  The mention of his name would, he knew, put her in a fury, so, being a prudent man, and a courtier, he entirely dropped the subject of the ball.  Yet Trenta was a privileged person.  He never voluntarily contradicted the marchesa, but when occasion arose he always spoke his mind, fearless of consequences.  As he and the marchesa disagreed on almost every possible subject, disputes often arose between them; but, thanks to Trenta’s pliant temper and perfect good-breeding, they were always amicably settled.

“Count Marescotti and Baldassare are outside,” continued Trenta, looking at her inquiringly, as the marchesa had not spoken.  “They are waiting to know if the illustrious lady receives this evening, and if she will permit them to join her usual whist-party.”