But she could not confess all this; she could only listen with great humility and no small surprise, while the steward, in compassion for her ignorance, and with the hope of tempting her into accepting his offered engagement, described the arrangements of the approaching festival, and dwelt fondly on the magnificence of the Arcadian bowers, and the beauty of the shepherdesses’ tunics.  As soon as he had done, Nanina ventured on the confession that she should feel rather nervous in a grand dress that did not belong to her, and that she doubted very much her own capability of waiting properly on the great people at the ball.  The steward, however, would hear of no objections, and called peremptorily for Marta Angrisani to make the necessary statement as to Nanina’s character.  While this formality was being complied with to the steward’s perfect satisfaction, La Biondella came in, unaccompanied on this occasion by the usual companion of all her walks, the learned poodle Scarammuccia.

“This is Nanina’s sister,” said the good-natured sick-nurse, taking the first opportunity of introducing La Biondella to the great marquis’s great man.  “A very good, industrious little girl; and very clever at plaiting dinner-mats, in case his excellency should ever want any.  What have you done with the dog, my dear?”

“I couldn’t get him past the pork butcher’s, three streets off,” replied La Biondella.  “He would sit down and look at the sausages.  I am more than half afraid he means to steal some of them.”

“A very pretty child,” said the steward, patting La Biondella on the cheek.  “We ought to have her at the hall.  If his excellency should want a Cupid, or a youthful nymph, or anything small and light in that way, I shall come back and let you know.  In the meantime, Nanina, consider yourself Shepherdess Number Thirty, and come to the housekeeper’s room at the palace to try on your dress to-morrow.  Nonsense! don’t talk to me about being afraid and awkward.  All you’re wanted to do is to look pretty; and your glass must have told you you could do that long ago.  Remember the rent of the room, my dear, and don’t stand in your light and your sister’s.  Does the little girl like sweetmeats?  Of course she does!  Well, I promise you a whole box of sugar-plums to take home for her, if you will come and wait at the ball.”

“Oh, go to the ball, Nanina; go to the ball!” cried La Biondella, clapping her hands.

“Of course she will go to the ball,” said the nurse.  “She would be mad to throw away such an excellent chance.”

Nanina looked perplexed.  She hesitated a little, then drew Marta Angrisani away into a corner, and whispered this question to her: 

“Do you think there will be any priests at the palace where the marquis lives?”

“Heavens, child, what a thing to ask!” returned the nurse.  “Priests at a masked ball!  You might as well expect to find Turks performing high mass in the cathedral.  But supposing you did meet with priests at the palace, what then?”