"Not directly, child," said Adelaide, "and I have no reason to complain of want of respect in her. But one always knows whether one is really liked or not."
"She is growing old," murmured Dionetta apologetically, "and has seen very little of ladies."
"Neither have you, child. Yet you do not dislike me."
"My lady, if I dare to say it, I love you."
"There is no daring in it, child. I love to be loved--and I would sooner be loved by the young than the old. Come here, pretty one. Your ears are like little pink shells, and deserve something better than those common rings in them. Put these in their place."
She took from a jewel-case a pair of earrings, turquoise and small diamonds, and with her own hands made the exchange.
"Oh, my lady," sighed Dionetta with a rose-light in her face. "They are too grand for me! What shall I say when people see them?"
The girl's heart was beating quick with ecstasy. She looked at herself in the glass, and uttered a cry of joy.
"Say that I gave them to you because I love you. I never had a maid who pleased me half as much. Does this prove it?" and she put her lips to Dionetta's face. The girl's eyes filled with tears, and she kissed Adelaide's hand in a passion of gratitude.
"I love you, Dionetta, because you love me, and because I can trust you."