“The Selvas told me you lived in the Veneto,” the Padre added.
Then Noemi understood. She smiled, and murmured a monosyllable which was neither “yes” nor “no”; she also was determined to take advantage of her position, and, thanks to this misunderstanding, obtain a private interview with Don Clemente, and warn him if necessary. It was moreover most amusing to talk to this handsome monk, who believed her to be Jeanne. By a look she cautioned Jeanne, who, much embarrassed, was glancing from her to the monk, doubtful whether to speak or remain silent.
“Of course my friend knows Santa Scolastica already,” she said, “but I have never been here before.”
She turned to Jeanne.
“If the Padre will be kind enough to accompany me, it seems to me you might remain here, as you are not feeling well,” she said.
Jeanne consented so readily that Noemi suspected she had some secret plan, and wondered if she had not made a mistake in proposing this. However, it was too late now. Don Clemente, not over-pleased at having to accompany one lady alone, suggested they should wait; perhaps her friend would feel stronger presently. Jeanne protested. No, they must not wait; she was glad to remain there.
While passing from the first to the second cloister, Noemi once more reminded the Padre of their meeting on the previous night.
“You had a companion?” she said, and immediately felt ashamed of her deceit, and of not having cleared up the mistake under which the monk was labouring. Don Clemente answered almost under his breath:
“Yes, signora, a kitchen-gardener from the monastery.”
Both their faces were crimson, but they did not look at one another, and each was conscious only of his and her own blush.