The next day was exquisitely bright and warm—we seemed to have leapt at a bound into the very heart of spring—and when I came out of my room I was greeted with the news that Andrea and the ladies had gone to drive in the Cascine. Annunziata was my informant. She had stayed at home, and, freed from the rigid eye of her mother-in-law, was sitting very much at her ease, ready to gossip with the first comer.  
The Marchesina could rise to an occasion as well as any one else; could, when duty called, confine her stout form in the stiffest of stays, and build up her hair into the neatest of bandolined pyramids. But I think she was never so happy as when, the bow unbent, she could expand into a loose morning-jacket and twist up her hair into a vague, unbecoming knot behind.
 
[Pg 71]
 
"Dear little signorina," she cried, beckoning me to a seat with her embroidery scissors, "have you heard the good news? Andrea returns no more to America."
 
"He has arranged matters with Costanza pretty quickly," was my reflection; and at the thought of that easy capitulation, he fell distinctly in my esteem.
 
"He has accepted a post in England," went on Annunziata. "We shall see him every year, if not oftener. Every one is overjoyed. It is a step in the right direction. Who knows but one day he may settle in Italy?" And she smiled meaningly, nodding her head as she spoke.
 
The ladies came back at lunch-time without their cavalier, who had stayed to collazione with some relatives in the town.
 
The afternoon was spent upstairs talking over the dance which was to take place that evening, discussing every detail of costume and every expected guest. Costanza was as cross as two sticks, and hadn't a good word for anybody. We dined an hour earlier than usual, but none of the gentlemen put in an appearance at the meal. With a sigh of inexpressible relief I rose from the table, and escaped to the welcome shelter of my room.
 
"I thought I was glad that Andrea had come," was[Pg 72] my reflection; "but to-day has been worse than any other day."
 
Then, rather discontentedly, I began the preparations for my toilet.
 
The little black net dress, with the half-low bodice, the tan gloves, the black satin shoes, were already lying on the bed.
 
It is all very well to be Cinderella, if you happen to have a fairy-godmother. Without this convenient relative the situation is far less pleasant, and so common as to be not even picturesque. There are lots of Cinderellas who never went to the ball, or, if they did go, were taken no notice of by the prince, and were completely cut out by the proud sisters. Musing thus, with a pessimism which, to do me justice, was new to me, I proceeded to make myself as fine as the circumstances of the case permitted.
 
"At least my hair is nice," I thought, as I stood before the glass and fastened a knot of daffodils into my bodice; "Jenny always admired it, and the shape of my head as well. I've been pale and ugly, too, for the last few weeks, but my cheeks are red enough to-night. They are only red from crossness, and the same cause has made my eyes so bright, but how is any one to know that?"
 
[Pg 73]
 
"Why, Elsie Meredith," said a voice suddenly from some inner region of my being, "what on earth is the matter with you? You, who could never be persuaded to take enough interest in your personal appearance! Surely you have caught the infection from that middle-aged Costanza."
 
With which rather spiteful reflection I blew out the candles, threw a shawl over my shoulders, and ran downstairs into the ball-room.
 
I was the first arrival. The room stood empty, and I halted a moment on the threshold, struck by the beauty of the scene.
 
The walls of the vast chamber were hung from top to bottom with faded tapestry, of good design and soft dim colour. From the painted, vaulted ceiling, which rose to mysterious height, hung a chandelier in antique silver, ablaze with innumerable wax lights. Other lights in silver sconces were placed at intervals along the walls, and narrow sofas in faded gilt and damask bordered the wide space of the floor.
 
At one end of the room was a musician's gallery, whence sounds of tuning were already to be heard.
 
Two other rooms led out from the main apartment, both of smaller size, indeed, but large withal, and[Pg 74] characterized by the same severe beauty. There was no attempt at decoration, nor was any needed.
 
Having made a general survey of the premises, I advanced to the middle of the ball-room, and began to feel the floor, across which a faded drugget had been stretched, critically with my foot.
 
Then I circled round on the tips of my toes under the chandelier, humming the air of "Dream Faces" very softly to myself.
 
So absorbed was I in this occupation that I did not notice the entrance of another person, till suddenly a voice sounded quite close to my ear, "Well, is it a good floor?"
 
I stopped, blushing deeply. There before me stood Andrea, looking very nice in his evening clothes.
 
"Not very good, but quite fair," I answered, recovering my self-possession before his complete coolness.
 
He smiled quietly.
 
"I guess you are a person of experience in such matters, Miss Meredith."
 
"I haven't been to many balls, but we are fond of dancing at home."
 
"We?" said Andrea, interrogatively.
 
[Pg 75]
 
"My sisters——"
 
"And brothers?"
 
"I haven't any brothers."
 
"And friends?"
 
"Yes, and friends." I could not help laughing; then thinking that he looked rather offended, I added by way of general conversation—
 
"How beautiful this room looks. It seems quite desecration to dance in it."
 
He looked round, and up and down.
 
"Yes, I suppose it is elegant. I think it very gloomy."
 
Again I found myself smiling. There was something so absurd in this mixture of the soft, sweet Italian tones and the very pronounced American accent, not to speak of the occasional flowers of American idiom.
 
This time, however, Andrea did not appear offended, but smiled back at me most charmingly, then turned to greet his mother, who, the two girls in her wake, came sweeping across the room in violet velvet and diamonds.
 
"You are down early, Miss Meredith," she said to me without moving a muscle of her face, but making me feel that I had committed a breach of propriety in venturing alone downstairs.
 
[Pg 76]
 
"You look so nice," cried Bianca, who, in blue-striped silk and a high tortoiseshell comb, had made the very worst of herself.
 
Costanza, shrugging her shoulders, turned and rustled across the room.
 
I was surprised to see how handsome she looked. With her gown of richest brocade, made with a long train and Elizabethan collar, with the rubies gleaming in her dark hair and in the folds of her bodice, she seemed a figure well in harmony with the stately beauty of her surroundings. As though conscious of her effect, she moved over to the entrance of the inner room, and stood there framed in the arched doorway with its hangings of faded damask. Andrea went at once to her side.
 
"It's a long time since we have had a dance together, Contessima."
 
"A long, long time, Marchesino."
 
Then their voices fell, and there was nothing to be heard but a twittering exchange of whispers.
 
Bianca put her arm about my waist and whirled me round and round.
 
"We don't dance the same way," she said, releasing me after a brief but breathless interval.
 
Annunziata in apple-green brocade and a pearl[Pg 77] stomacher was the next arrival, laughing heartily, and flourishing her lace handkerchief as she came. Behind her strolled her husband, handsome, indolent, and grave as a judge. The old Marchese brought up the rear.
 
The guests began now to arrive; smart, dignified, voluble matron............