But he determined to wait until the maid had been dismissed, for he did not know whether she possessed her mistress's entire confidence, and whether she would not attribute a criminal meaning to that mark of their intimacy.
A few moments later, Agatha did dismiss her. There was a sound of footsteps and of doors, as if the maid closed them all behind her as she withdrew. Determined not to delay showing himself, Michel resolutely entered Agatha's bedroom, but found himself alone there. The princess had gone into her oratory before retiring, and Michel saw her kneeling on a velvet cushion. She was dressed in a long, floating white robe. Her black hair fell to her feet in two great braids, the weight of which would have disturbed her sleep if she had kept them about her head at night. The faint light of a lamp under a bluish globe cast a melancholy, transparent reflection upon her, which made her resemble a ghost. Michel paused, overcome with respect and dread.
But, as he was hesitating whether he should interrupt her prayer, and wondering how he could attract her attention without frightening her, he heard the door of the little passageway open, and steps, so light that none but a jealous lover's ear could distinguish them, approach Agatha's bedroom. Michel had just time to jump behind the bedstead of carved ebony, decorated with small ivory figures. It did not stand against the wall, as our beds do, but some little distance away, as is customary in hot countries, with its foot near the centre of the room. Between the wall and the high headboard of that ancient piece of furniture there was sufficient room for Michel to hide. He did not stoop for fear of moving the white satin curtains. He had no time to take many precautions. Chance favored him, for, despite the swift and inquisitive glance which the Piccinino cast about the room, he saw no disorder, no movement to betray the presence of a man who had arrived before him.
Nevertheless, he was about to take the prudent course of making a thorough search, when the princess, hearing his light footsteps, half rose, saying:
"Is that you, Nunziata?"
Receiving no reply, she put aside the portière which half concealed the interior of her bedroom, and saw the Piccinino standing in front of her. She rose to her feet and stood motionless with surprise and terror.
But, realizing that she must not betray her painful emotion in the presence of a man of that character, she kept silent so that her altered voice might reveal nothing, and walked toward him as if expecting him to explain his audacious visit.
The Piccinino knelt on one knee, and said, handing her a folded parchment:
"Signora, I knew that you must be extremely anxious concerning this important document, and I did not wish to postpone its delivery until to-morrow. I came here during the evening, but you were absent, and I was obliged to wait until you had returned. Forgive me if my visit is somewhat opposed to the proprieties of the society in which you live, but your highness is aware that I am compelled to act on all occasions, and especially in this matter, with the greatest secrecy."
"Signor captain," replied Agatha, after opening and glancing at the parchment, "I knew that my uncle's will had been stolen from Doctor Recuperati this morning. The poor doctor came here this afternoon, quite beside himself, to tell me of his misadventure. He could not imagine how his wallet had been taken from his pocket, and he accused Abbé Ninfo. I was not alarmed, because I felt sure that Abbé Ninfo would have to account to you for his theft in the course of the day. So I comforted the doctor, bidding him not mention the incident, and promising him that the will would soon be recovered. You can well believe that I could give him no hint as to how it would be done and by whom. Now, captain, it is not proper for me to have in my hands a document which I should have the appearance of having seized because I was distrustful of my uncle's intentions or the doctor's good faith. I will ask you, therefore, when the moment to produce it shall have come, to restore it by some means, indirect but sure, to the depositary who previously had it in charge. You are too ingenious not to discover such a means without betraying yourself in any way."