"There," she said, folding the veil about her head with the most
coquettish manner, "if I don't look the prettiest senorita alive, why,
call me--call me anything odious--yes, even an Englishwoman--ha, ha,
ha! How that would please my mistress!"

And then she figured about before the glass, and capered through a
Spanish bolero with considerable grace and dexterity, while she sang an
impromptu verse to an old air.

The verse was naturally doggerel, and maybe given in English as
follows--

"Sweet Marietta,
Rarely has been
A sweeter or better
Face or form seen;
My chestnut tresses,
And my Spanish fall,
Would eclipse all the dresses
At the masked ball.
Then why, Marietta.
Dally?--ah, no!
Pluck up, you'd better,
Your courage and go!"

And as she came to the last line, this impudent little maid whirled round,
spinning her skirts about her like a top.

Mathias was enraptured.