She hesitated a moment.
"You cannot come again as a piano-tuner," said she; "if you do, you will compromise me, for my cousin will certainly tell my aunt that he suspects you of being a libertine in search of adventures; and, when my aunt hears it, she will tell my mother. And let me tell you Signor Lelio, that there is only one person in the world for whom I care in the least, and that is my mother; that there is only one thing in the world that I dread, and that is my mother's displeasure. And yet she brought me up very badly, as you see; she spoiled me shockingly; but she is so dear, so sweet, so loving, so sad—She loves me so dearly—if you only knew!"
A great tear glistened in the signora's black eye; she tried for some time to hold it back, but at last it fell on her hand. Deeply moved, assailed and overthrown by the formidable little god with whom one cannot afford to trifle, I put my lips to that lovely hand and greedily drank that sweet tear, a subtle poison which kindled a flame in my bosom. I heard the cousin returning, and, rising hurriedly, I said:
"Addio, signora, I will obey you blindly, I swear upon my honor; if your cousin insults me, I will swallow his insults; I will play a coward's part rather than cause you to shed a second tear."
With that I bowed to the ground and left the room. The cousin did not seem to me so bellicose as she had depicted him; for he saluted me first when I passed him. I walked slowly from the house, depressed beyond words; for I was in love, and I must not return. On becoming sincere, my love became generous.
I turned several times to catch a glimpse of the signora's velvet dress, but she had disappeared. As I was passing through the gate of the park, I saw her in a narrow path which followed the wall on the inside. She had run, in order to reach that point as soon as I did, and when I spied her she strove to assume a slow and pensive gait; but she was all out of breath and her lovely black hair was disarranged by the branches she had hurriedly thrust aside as she ran through the underbrush. I started to join her, but she made a sign to indicate that somebody was following her. I tried to pass through the gate, but I could not make up my mind to do it. Thereupon, she waved her hand to bid me farewell, accompanying the gesture with an unutterable glance and smile. At that moment she was more beautiful than I had ever seen her.
I placed one hand on my heart, the other on my forehead, and hurried away, mad with joy and love. I had seen the branches moving just behind the signora; but, there as elsewhere, the cousin arrived too late. I had disappeared.
I found in my room a letter from Checchina. "I had started to join you," she wrote, "and to rest a while from the fatigues of the stage in the pleasant shade of Cafaggiolo. I was upset at San Giovanni; I have nothing worse than a few bruises, but my carriage is broken. The bungling workmen in this village say they must have three days to repair it. Take your calèche and come and fetch me, unless you wish me to die of ennui in this muleteers' tavern."
I set out an hour later and reached San Giovanni at daybreak.
"How does it happen that you are alone?" I asked, trying to escape from her long arms and her sisterly embraces, which had become unendurable to me since my illness, because of the perfumes with which she saturated herself beyond all reason, whether because she fancied that she was imitating the great ladies, or because she loved passionately anything that appeals to the senses.