I was about to reply when a slight sound made us both turn our heads involuntarily. The wooden shutter which covers the grated window through which the priest receives confessions opened behind us, and a yellow, wrinkled face, with a stern and penetrating glance, appeared in the opening like a bad dream. I hastily turned away before that unwelcome intruder had time to examine my features. But I dared not go away, for fear of attracting the attention of those roundabout. Thereupon I heard these words addressed to my confederate:
"Signora, the person beside you did not come to the Lord's house to listen to the sacred service. I have seen by his entire attitude and by the distraction it has caused you, that the church is being profaned by an illicit conversation. Order this person to retire or I shall be compelled to inform the signora, your aunt, with how little fervor you listen to the blessed mass, and how willingly you open your ears to the empty words of young men who steal to a place by your side."
The shutter was instantly closed, and we remained for some seconds absolutely motionless, afraid of betraying ourselves by the slightest movement. Then Lila came nearer to us and whispered to her mistress:
"For heaven's sake, let us go, signora! Abbé Cignola, who has been prowling about the church for a quarter of an hour, just went into the confessional and came out again almost immediately, after looking at you through the window, I have no doubt. I am terribly afraid that he recognized you or heard what you said."
"I should think so, for he spoke to me," replied the signora, whose black eyebrows had contracted during the abbé's harangue, with an expression of bravado. "But it matters little to me."
"I must go, signora," I said, rising; "by remaining another moment, I shall consummate your ruin. Since you know where I live, you will let me know your wishes——"
"Stay," she said, detaining me by force. "If you go away, I lose my only means of exculpating myself. Don't be afraid, Lila. Don't say a word, I forbid you. Give me your arm, cousin," she added, raising her voice slightly, "and let us go."
"Can you think of such a thing, signora? All Florence knows me. You will never be able to pass me off as your cousin."
"But all Florence doesn't know me," she replied, putting her arm through mine and forcing me to walk with her. "Besides, I am hermetically veiled, and you have only to pull your hat over your eyes. Come! pretend you have a toothache! Put your handkerchief to your face. Quick! here are some people who know me and are looking at me. Be more self-possessed and quicken your pace."
Talking thus, and walking rapidly, she reached the church door, leaning on my arm. I was about to take leave of her and lose myself in the crowd that was coming out with us, for the mass was at an end, when Abbé Cignola appeared once more, standing on the porch and pretending to talk with one of the sacristans. His sidelong glance followed us closely.