addressed to the Marchese Lamberto. But the acquaintance of the
Venetians with him had remained very slight; and Orsola felt so much
awe of so grand and reverend a Signor, that it was to the nephew
only that she thought of applying.

So, not without much doubt and misgiving, the old woman put on her
bonnet and cloak and made the best of her way to the Castelmare
palace. There she found a porter lounging before the door, to whom
she made her petition to be allowed to speak to the Signor Marchese
Ludovico.

"My name is Orsola Steno," said the old woman humbly, a little in
awe of the majestic porter, chosen for that situation for his size;
"and the Signor Marchesino knows me very well. I am sure he would
not refuse to see me."

Insolent servants in a great house are generally a sure symptom of
something amiss in the moral nature of their masters. Good and
kindly masters have and make civil and kindly servants; and the big
porter of the palazzo Castelmare was accordingly by no means a
terrible personage.

"Signora Orsola Steno! To be sure. I remember you very well,
Signora, when you called on the padrone last summer. I am sure the
Signor Marchesino would have pleasure in seeing you, if he were at
home. But he is not here. And to tell you the truth, we have no idea
where he is. He came home early this morning after the ball, and
instead of going to bed, changed his dress, and went out again at
once; and has not been back since. Some devilry or other! Che vuole!
We were all young once upon a time, eh, Signora Orsola? And as for