She, however, laid her hand with friendly grace upon his
button-hole, and called him a dear, good old Cavaliere, for being always
so willing. Her spirits had risen with the occasion, and she talked
irresistible nonsense. "Bring the best they have," she said, "no matter
if it ruins us! And if the best is very bad, it will be all the
more amusing. I shall enjoy seeing Mr. Mallet try to swallow it for
propriety's sake! Mr. Hudson will say out like a man that it 's horrible
stuff, and that he 'll be choked first! Be sure you bring a dish of
maccaroni; the prince must have the diet of the Neapolitan nobility. But
I leave all that to you, my poor, dear Cavaliere; you know what 's good!
Only be sure, above all, you bring a guitar. Mr. Mallet will play us
a tune, I 'll dance with Mr. Hudson, and mamma will pair off with the
prince, of whom she is so fond!"
And as she concluded her recommendations, she patted her bland old
servitor caressingly on the shoulder. He looked askance at Rowland; his
little black eye glittered; it seemed to say, "Did n't I tell you she
was a good girl!"
The Cavaliere returned with zealous speed, accompanied by one of the
servants of the inn, laden with a basket containing the materials of a
rustic luncheon.
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