“Do you know who we are?” Noemi continued.
Don Clemente replied that he believed he knew. They must be the two ladies Signora Selva expected. He thought she had mentioned her sister and Signora Dessalle.
“Oh! you heard of us from my sister?”
At Noemi’s words Don Clemente could not refrain from exclaiming:
“Then you are not Signora Dessalle?”
Noemi saw that the man knew. Therefore he had surely taken precautions, and an unexpected meeting was not possible. She breathed freely again, and in her feminine heart curiosity took the place of the anxiety of which she was now relieved.
Don Clemente spoke to her of the tower, of the ancient arcades, of the frescoes near the door of the church, while she wondered how he could be brought to speak of Maironi. When he was showing her the procession of little stone monks, she interrupted him thoughtlessly, to ask if souls, tired of the world, disappointed and desirous of giving themselves to God, often came to the monastery.
“I am a Protestant,” she said. “This interests me greatly.”
In his heart Don Clemente thought that if this really interested her greatly, it was not on account of her Protestantism, but on account of her friendship for Signora Dessalle.
“Not often,” he answered; “sometimes. Such souls usually prefer other Orders. So you are a Protestant? But you will have no objection to entering our church? I do not mean the Catholic Church,” he added, smiling and blushing, “I mean the church of our monastery.”