The signora was enveloped in a long black veil, and she held it over her face with her hands for a few seconds. She did not speak to me, but bent her lovely head as if she had come to the church to pray; but, despite all her efforts to appear calm, I saw that her breast was heaving, and that, in the midst of her audacity, she was terror-stricken. I dared not encourage her with loving words, for I knew how quick she was at sarcastic repartee, and I could not be sure what tone she would take with me under those delicate circumstances. I realized simply this, that the more she exposed herself with me, the more respectful and submissive my attitude must be. With such a nature as hers, presumption would have been speedily repelled by scorn. At last I understood that I must break the silence, and I thanked her awkwardly enough for the favor of that meeting. My timidity seemed to restore her courage. She softly raised a corner of her veil, rested her arm with less constraint on the rail of the confessional, and said to me in a half-mocking, half-melting tone:
"For what do you thank me, please?"
"For relying upon my obedience, signora," I replied; "for not doubting the eagerness with which I would come to receive your orders."
"I understand then," she retorted—and her tone was altogether jocular—"that your presence here is an act of pure obedience?"
"I should not dare to take the liberty to have any thoughts concerning the present situation, except that I am your slave, and that, having a sovereign command to lay upon me, you bade me come and kneel here."
"You are a man of the most perfect breeding," she replied, slowly unfolding her fan in front of her face, and pulling up her black mitt over her beautifully moulded arm with as much ease of manner as if she were speaking to her cousin.
She continued in that strain, and in a very few moments I was bewildered and almost saddened by her strange and captious chatter.
"What is the use," I said to myself, "of so much audacity for so little love? An assignation in a church, in plain sight of a whole congregation, the danger of being discovered, cursed and disowned by her whole family and her whole caste—all for the sake of exchanging jokes with me, as she might with a friend of her own sex in her box at the theatre! Does she delight in adventures from pure love of danger? If she takes such risks without loving me, what will she do for the man she does love? And then, how do I know how many times and for whom she has already exposed herself in the same way? If she has never done it, it is only because she has never had the opportunity. She is so young! But what an endless series of gallant adventures the perilous future has in store for her, and how many men will abuse their opportunities, and how many stains will mar this lovely flower, so intensely eager to bloom in the wind of passion!"
She noticed my preoccupation, and said to me, in a sharp tone:
"You look as if you were bored?"