Mila, inspired by that species of divination which love gives to women, even to those who have had no experience and have read but little, said to herself—and justly—that Magnani, being stimulated in his passion by suffering and absence of hope, would be alarmed and repelled at the idea of love being offered to him unasked—a too-ready, alluring love; consequently she represented herself as invulnerable and protected against him by another attachment. In that way she lured him by making him suffer, and that was, in truth, the only way in which he could be lured. By changing the form of his torture, she paved the way for his cure.
"Mila," he said to her at last, pointing to a heavy ring of chased gold which he wore on his finger, and which she had already noticed, "can you tell me the source of this beautiful present?"
"That?" she said, looking at the ring with feigned astonishment. "It is impossible for me to tell you anything about it. But I no longer hear your neighbor; farewell. By the way, Magnani, you look very tired. You were resting when I came in; you would do well to rest a little more. None of us are in any danger at this moment. I am not, because my father and brother are about the house. They are not, because it is broad daylight and the house is full of people. Sleep, my dear neighbor. If it is only for an hour, that will give you strength to go on with your rôle of guardian of the family."
"No, no, Mila. I shall not sleep, and, indeed, I have no desire to; for, say what you will, there are some strange, inexplicable things still going on in this house. I confess that I lost myself a moment, just as day was breaking. You were asleep; you were locked into your room; the man in the cloak had gone. I had sat down under your gallery, saying to myself that the first step that shook it would wake me instantly if I should happen to fall asleep. And thereupon I did actually fall asleep. For five minutes perhaps, not more, for it was not perceptibly lighter when I woke again. Well! when I opened my eyes, I fancied that I saw a corner of a dress or a black veil, which flitted by me and disappeared like a flash. I made a vague, fruitless effort to seize that vision with the hand that lay half open on the bench at my side. But in my hand, or beside it—I don't know which—was an object which I dropped at my feet, and instantly picked up again: it was this ring. Have you any idea to whom it belongs?"
"Such a fine ring cannot belong to anyone in the house," Mila replied; "but I think I know it."
"And I know it, too," said Magnani; "it belongs to Princess Agatha. For five years I have seen it on her finger, and it was there the day she came into my mother's room."
"It is a ring that came to her from her own mother, she told me so! But how does it happen to be on your hand to-day?"
"I relied upon you to explain that prodigy to me, Mila; that is what I wanted to ask you."
"Upon me? Why upon me?"
"You are the only one in this house in whom the princess is sufficiently interested to have given her so handsome a present."