"Priests at a masked ball! You might as well expect to find Turks
performing high mass in the cathedral. But supposing you did meet
with priests at the palace, what then?"
"Nothing," said Nanina, constrainedly. She turned pale, and
walked away as she spoke. Her great dread, in returning to Pisa,
was the dread of meeting with Father Rocco again. She had never
forgotten her first discovery at Florence of his distrust of her.
The bare thought of seeing him any more, after her faith in him
had been shaken forever, made her feel faint and sick at heart.
"To-morrow, in the housekeeper's room," said the steward, putting
on his hat, "you will find your new dress all ready for you."
Nanina courtesied, and ventured on no more objections. The
prospect of securing a home for a whole year to come among people
whom she knew, reconciled her--influenced as she was also by
Marta Angrisani's advice, and by her sister's anxiety for the
promised present--to brave the trial of appearing at the ball.
"What a comfort to have it all settled at last," said the
steward, as soon as he was out again in the street. "We shall see
what the marquis says now. If he doesn't apologize for calling me
a scoundrel the moment he sets eyes on Number Thirty, he is the
most ungrateful nobleman that ever existed."
Arriving in front of the palace, the steward found workmen
engaged in planning the external decorations and illuminations
for the night of the ball.
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