The contessa's letter was a sort of puzzle to poor old Mole.

"The Contessa Maraviglia begs the honour of the Signor Mole's company
on the 16th instant. She can accept no refusal, as the _fete_ is
especially organised in honour of Signor Mole, whose rare excellence in
the poetry of motion has elevated dancing into an art."

Isaac Mole read and re-read this singular letter, until he grew more
and more fogged.

He thought that the contessa had failed to express herself clearly in
English on account of her imperfect knowledge of our language; but he
was soon corrected in this impression.

The lady in question, it transpired, was English.

So poor Mole did what he thought best under the circumstances, and that
was to consult with Dick Harvey.

"Dear me!" echoed Dick, innocently; "why, you have made an impression
here, Mr. Mole."

"Do you think so?" said Mole, doubtfully.

"Beyond question. This contessa is smitten, sir, with your attractions;
but I can assist you here."

"You can?"