"But I tell you, uncle, that it is an entirely innocent secret, and still it is impossible for me to tell you what it is. Do not ask me any more questions. I would die before I would speak."
"At all events, Mila, promise me that you will tell your father this secret which I may not know!"
"I cannot promise you that; but I swear that I will tell it to Princess Agatha."
"I have the greatest esteem and veneration for Princess Agatha," replied the monk, "but I know that women are excessively indulgent to one another in the matter of certain errors of conduct, and that virtuous women are the more tolerant because of their ignorance of evil. I do not, therefore, like the idea of your seeking shelter against shame on your friend's bosom, instead of explaining your conduct to your family, with head erect. Go, Mila; I insist no farther, since you have withdrawn your confidence from me; but I pity you because your heart is not pure and calm this evening as it was this morning. I pity my brother, whose pride and joy you were; I pity your brother, who will soon have to answer for your conduct before the world, I doubt not, and who will have plenty of trouble on his hands unless he chooses to allow you to be insulted on his arm. Woe, woe to the men of a family, when the women, who should watch over its honor as the Vestals watched over the sacred fire, break the laws of prudence, modesty and truth!"
Fra Angelo passed on, leaving poor Mila, crushed by this malediction, kneeling on the stones in the road, with bloodless cheeks and her bosom heaving with sobs.
"Alas!" she said to herself, "until this moment it seemed to me that my conduct was not only innocent, but brave and praiseworthy. Oh! how harsh the laws of modest reserve and the necessity of an unsullied reputation are for women, since, even when it is a question of saving the lives of one's family, one must expect to be blamed by those whom one loves best! Was it wrong for me to trust to the prince's promises? He may have deceived me, it is true! But when his conduct has proved his honor and his virtue, ought I to blame myself for believing in him? Was it not a presentiment of the truth that led me toward him, and not mere foolish and imprudent curiosity?"
She kept on down the mountain, but, as she walked, she questioned her conscience severely, and some scruples awoke within her. Had she not been impelled by pride to accomplish a difficult and perilous enterprise of which no one would have believed her to be capable? Had she not allowed herself to be influenced by the stranger's comeliness and charm of manner, and would she have had equal confidence in an older and less eloquent man?
"But what does it matter after all?" she said to herself. "What have I done that is wrong, and what reproach could be brought against me if I had been watched? I have run the risk of being misrepresented and slandered, and that is certainly a fault when one does it from egotism or a spirit of coquetry; but when one exposes oneself to danger to save one's father and brother!—Princess Agatha will be my judge; she will tell me whether I have done right or wrong, and whether she would have acted as I did."
But imagine poor Mila's dismay, when, as soon as she began her story, the princess interrupted her, saying: "O my child! it was the Piccinino!"
Mila tried to struggle against the truth. She insisted that everybody said that the Piccinino was short, thickset, awkwardly built, afflicted with hideous ugliness, and that his face was darkened by bushy hair and a beard; whereas the stranger's slight figure was so graceful and refined, his manners so gracious and noble!