Jack Harkaway and his Sons Escape from the Brigands of Greece | Page 5

her sure" by toying with the hilt of
his dagger.
Mathias crouched down, and crept under the bed, just in time, as the
pert young lady skipped into the room.
Her first care was to turn up the lamp, and by its light she looked about
her.
"I think they might have taken me to the ball with them," she said,
saucily shaking her curls off her face. "I should have looked better than
some of them, I'll be bound. I'm dead beat with fatigue. I've had all the

work dressing them, and they are to get all the fun."
She was silent for some few minutes, and Mathias grew anxious.
What could be going forward?
He would vastly like to know.
Unable to control his curiosity, he peeped out, and then he saw pretty
Marietta's portrait in the long looking-glass panel.
She looked prettier than ever now, for, shocking to relate, the young
lady was undressing.
Mathias was not to say a bashful man, so he did not draw back.
On the contrary, he stared with all his eyes.
Pretty Marietta little thought, as she stood before the glass, that such a
desperate villain was watching every movement.
Marietta, wholly unconscious that she was watched by the vile brigand
chief, walked up and down before the glass, shooting admiring glances
at herself over her white and well rounded shoulders.
"Dress, and rank, and money do wonders," she said. "Why are we not
all about equal? I'm as good as the best of them, I'm sure, and very
much better looking."
With this mixture of feminine vanity and republican sentiments, she
bustled about, putting the room a bit in order.
Now her first job was to put away several dresses.
The first of these was a short Spanish skirt of pink satin, with deep
black lace flounces.
"I wonder how I should look in this?" she murmured.

She held up the dress beside her to test the colour against her
complexion.
"Beautiful!"
Beautiful; yes, this was her frank opinion, and, really, we are by no
means sure but that her own estimate was very near the mark.
On went the dress.
She strutted up and down, and then, when she had feasted her eyes
enough upon her own loveliness, she plaited her hair, and, twisting it
up into a rich knot behind, she stuck a high comb into it, and fastened
the thick lace veil about her.
Mathias watched it all.
He gloated over that pretty little picture, and, shameless rascal!
chuckled to think how little she suspected his presence.
"There," she said, folding the veil about her head with the most
coquettish manner, "if I don't look the prettiest señorita 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.
With difficulty he kept himself from applauding.
"She'd make her fortune upon the stage," he said to himself.
Marietta had made quite a conquest; a double conquest, it might almost
be said.
The hidden robber was enraptured, and she was scarcely less pleased
with herself.
"I'll go," she said to herself, "Why should I not? They'll never find it
out; I can do just as Cenerentola (Cinderella) did, and who knows but
that some prince might fall over head and ears in love with me? I can
get back long before they do."
Out she skipped too, and tripped down the stairs.
She was off to the ball.
Little dreamt she that for the last half hour her life hung upon the most
slender thread.
And now, the coast being clear, the three brigands prepared to carry out
their plans.
CHAPTER II.
AT THE CONTESSA'S FETE-A ROMANTIC ADVENTURE
BETWEEN CERTAIN OLD FRIENDS.
The most brilliant fête of the year was that given by the rich Contessa
Maraviglia at her palazzo.
All the rank and fashion of the land were there.
The palazzo itself was a building of great beauty, and stood in grounds
of great extent.

The contessa, who was a widow, had a princely fortune, and she spent
it lavishly too.
Upon the night of the masquerade the gardens were brilliantly lighted.
Upon the miniature lake