"Here's a lovely child who refuses to give her message to anybody but you, Lelio," said Checchina, who had seated her unceremoniously on the side of her bed. "I have taken her under my protection because old Catalina insisted on sending her away with an insolent answer. But I saw by her modest manner that she is a good girl, and I haven't asked her any injudicious questions. Isn't that true, my pretty brunette? Come, don't be shamefaced, but go into the salon with Signor Lelio. I am not inquisitive, I tell you; I have something else to do besides annoy my friends."
"Come, my dear child," I said to the soubrette, "and have no fear; you have only honorable people to deal with here."
The poor girl stood in the middle of the floor, bewildered, and in such distress that it made one's heart ache. Although she had had the courage to conceal the object of her visit up to that time, she took from her pocket, in her confusion, and half revealed a note which she instantly thrust out of sight again, distracted between her fears for her own honor and for her mistress's.
"Oh dear!" she said at last in a trembling voice, "suppose the signora should think that I came here with any evil intention!"
"My poor child, I think nothing at all," replied kind-hearted Checchina, opening a book and reading it with eye-glasses, although her sight was excellent; for she thought that it was good form to have weak eyes.
"The signora is so kind and received me with so much confidence," continued the girl.
"Your appearance must inspire confidence in everybody," replied the singer, "and if I am kind to you, it is because you deserve it. Come, come; I am not inquisitive, I tell you; say what you have to say to Signor Lelio, it will not vex me in the slightest degree. Come, take her away, Lelio! Poor child! she thinks she is ruined. Nonsense, my dear, actors are just as honorable as other people, be sure of that."
The girl made a low courtesy and followed me into the salon. Her heart was beating as if it would break the lacings of her green velvet waist, and her cheeks were as scarlet as her skirt. She hastily took the letter from her pocket and, after handing it to me, stepped back, she was so afraid that I would be as rude to her as I was before. I reassured her by the tranquillity of my demeanor, and asked her if she had anything more to say to me.
"I am to wait for the answer," she replied, with an air of the most profound distress.
"Very well," said I, "go and wait in the signora's apartment."