"Dear Mila," he said, placing himself in front of the door, "one moment's patience, I beg you. Do not let people see you, and do not be angry with me if I detain you a moment. The consequences of a pure accident may be very serious to a man who is determined to kill or be killed to defend the honor of a woman."
"In that case, do not speak so loud," said Mila, struck by Magnani's expression; "for that miserable cobbler may overhear us. I know," she continued, allowing him to lead her back to her chair, "that you are brave and generous, and that you would do for me what you would do for your own sister. But I am not anxious that that should happen, for you are not my brother, and you cannot justify me by fighting my battles. People would say all the more evil of me, or else we should be compelled to marry, which would not suit either of us."
Magnani gazed into Mila's black eyes, and, seeing how proud they were, he speedily renounced the presumptuous idea that had caused him both fear and pleasure as it flashed through his mind.
"I understand perfectly well that you do not love me, my dear Mila," he said with a sad smile. "I am not lovable, and it would be the most melancholy thing on earth, after being compromised by me, to pass your life with such an unsociable being."
"That is not what I meant to say," replied the crafty maiden. "I have much esteem and friendship for you; I have no reason for concealing that fact from you; but I have an inclination for another. That is why I am so distressed and tremble so at being shut up in this room with you."
"If that is so, Mila," said Magnani, bolting his door and closing the window-shutter so hastily that he nearly consummated the ruin of his convolvulus, "let us take all necessary precautions to prevent anyone knowing that you are here. I swear to you that you shall go out without anybody suspecting it, though I have to put all the neighbors out of the way by force—though I have to stand guard until night."
Magnani tried to be playful, and imagined that he was very much relieved to find that he was not called upon to defend himself against Mila's love; but it saddened him to hear the girl declare her affection for another, and his candid face expressed, despite his efforts, a painful disappointment. Had she not previously confessed it to him during their long vigil, and had she not by that confidence invested him in a certain sense with the duties of a brother? He was determined to execute worthily that sacred mission; but how did it happen that a moment before it had startled him to see her in anger, and why had his heart, nourished so long upon an insane and bitter passion, felt suddenly revivified and rejuvenated by the unexpected presence of this child who had entered through his window like a sunbeam?
Mila was stealthily watching him. She saw that she had struck home. "O untamed heart," she said to herself, with silent but intense joy, "I have you now; you shall not escape me."
"My dear neighbor," said the artful minx, "pray do not be offended at what I have just told you, and do not look upon it as an affront to your merit. I know that any other than myself would be flattered to be compromised by you, with the hope of becoming your wife; but I am neither a liar nor a flirt. I am in love, and, as I have confidence in you, I tell you of it. I know that it cannot cause you any pain, since you have given up all thought of marriage, and since you detest all women, except a single one who is not myself."
Magnani made no reply. The cobbler was still singing. "It is my fate," thought Magnani, "not to be loved by any woman and never to be cured of my love."