"A little piglet, Nobility--un piccolo porcellino," said
Marietta.

And lifting the cover an inch or two, she displayed the anxious
face of a poor little sucking pig.

"E carino?" she demanded, whilst her eyes beamed with a pride
that almost seemed maternal.

"What on earth are you going to do with him?" Beatrice gasped.

The light of pride gave place to a light of resolution, in
Marietta's eyes.

"Kill him, Mightiness," was her grim response; "stuff him with
almonds, raisins, rosemary, and onions; cook him sweet and
sour; and serve him, garnished with rosettes of beet-root, for
my Signorino's Sunday dinner."

"Oh-h-h!" shuddered Beatrice and Emilia, in a breath; and they
resumed their walk.




XII


Francois was dining--with an appearance of great fervour.