Marietta returned, with brisk aplomb.

Beatrice smiled. "Bene, grazie. Your new master--that young
Englishman," she continued, "I hope you find him kind, and easy
to do for?"

"Kind--yes, Excellency. Also easy to do for. But--!" Marietta
shrugged her shoulders, and gave her head two meaning
oscillations.

"Oh--?" wondered Beatrice, knitting puzzled brows.

"Very amiable, your Greatness; but simple, simple," Marietta
explained, and tapped her brown old forehead with a brown
forefinger.

"Really--?" wondered Beatrice.

"Yes, Nobility," said Marietta. "Gentle as a canarybird, but
innocent, innocent."

"You astonish me," Beatrice avowed. "How does he show it?"

"The questions he asks, Most Illustrious, the things he says."

"For example--?" pursued Beatrice.

"For example, your Serenity--" Marietta paused, to search her
memory.--" Well, for one example, he calls roast veal a fowl.