She pretended not to have heard him, hastily filled her jug, and prepared to go up again. But the stranger, reclining on the stones, either to bar her way or perhaps to rest more comfortably, said to her in the same caressing tone:
"Rebecca, will you refuse a drop of water to Jacob, the friend and servant of the family?"
"I do not know you," replied Mila, trying to assume a calm and indifferent tone. "Can you not put your lips to the cascade? You can drink from it much better than from a jug."
The stranger calmly passed his arms around Mila's legs, and compelled her to lean on his shoulder to avoid falling.
"Let me go," she said, terrified and angry, "or I will call for help. I have no time to jest with you, and I am not one of those who dally with every strange man they see. Let me go, I tell you, or I will shriek."
"Mila," said the unknown, throwing back his hood, "I am no stranger to you, although it is not long since we became acquainted. We have relations together which it is not in your power to break off, and which it is your duty not to refuse to recognize. The life, fortune, and honor of those who are dearest to you on earth rest on my zeal and my loyalty. I have something to say to you; give me your jug, so that if anyone is watching it will not seem unnatural that you should have stopped here a moment with me."
On recognizing the mysterious guest of the previous night, Mila was subjugated as it were by a sort of dread not unmingled with respect. For we must tell the whole truth: Mila was a woman, and the Piccinino's beauty, his youth, his expression and his soft voice did not fail to exert a secret influence upon her sensitive and slightly romantic instincts.
"My lord," she said to him, for it was impossible not to take him for a nobleman in disguise, "I will obey you; but do not detain me by force, and speak more quickly, for this situation is not without danger to us both."
She handed him her jug, from which he drank without haste; for, meanwhile, he held the girl's lovely bare arm in his hand and gazed upon its beautiful shape, pressing it at the same time to force her to tip the jug gradually, as he quenched his real or pretended thirst.
"Now, Mila," he said, covering his face, which he had left uncovered for her to admire, "listen to me! The monk who frightened you yesterday will come here again as soon as your father and brother have gone out: they are to dine to-day with the Marquis della Serra. Do not try to keep them at home on any account; if they should stay at home, if they should see the monk, if they should try to drive him away, it would be the signal for some disaster which I could not prevent. If you are prudent and devoted to your family, you will even spare the monk the danger of showing himself in your house. You will come here as if to wash; I know that, before going into the house, he will prowl about here and will try to surprise you outside of your yard, for he is afraid of the neighbors. Do not be afraid of him; he is a coward, and he will never attempt to use violence with you in broad daylight, or when he is in any danger of being discovered. He will talk to you again of his ignoble desires. Cut the conversation short; but pretend that you have changed your mind. Tell him to go away because you are watched; but make an appointment with him for twenty o'clock[9] at a place which I will indicate, and whither you must go alone, an hour earlier. I will be there. You will run no risk therefore. I will take charge of the monk, and you will never hear of him again. You will be delivered from a detestable persecutor, Princess Agatha will no longer be in danger of being dishonored by shocking calumnies; your father will no longer have the threat of imprisonment hanging over him, and your brother Michel that of the assassin's dagger."