The Piccinino, Volume 2 (of 2); The last of Aldinis

by George Sand

But he had not appeared at all on that day, and on the days immediately following he had not addressed a single word to her; he had confined himself to bowing to her with frigid respect when he had not been able to avoid her eye. Mila, mortally wounded and distressed, had refused to tell her father the truth, when that worthy man, disturbed by her pallor, asked her almost on his knees. She had persisted in denying that she loved their young neighbor. Pier-Angelo, simple and straightforward creature that he was, could find nothing better to say to her than:

"Cheer up, my child, we know very well that you love each other; but he has been uneasy and jealous on account of the Nicolosi affair; when you condescend to justify yourself in his eyes, he will fall at your feet. You will see him there to-morrow, I am sure of it."

"Oho! Master Magnani presumes to be jealous and to suspect me!" rejoined Mila, hotly. "He has loved me only a day or two, he doesn't know whether I love him, and when a suspicion comes into his head, instead of humbly telling me of it and doing his best to supplant the rival who worries him, he assumes the air of a betrayed husband, gives up all idea of making himself agreeable to me and persuading me, and, I suppose, will consider that he confers great honor and great pleasure on me when he comes and tells me that he deigns to forgive me! Well, for my part, I do not forgive him. That's what you may say to him from me, father."

The child persisted so in her irritation that Pier-Angelo was forced to take Magnani to her chamber door, where she let him knock a long while, and which she opened at last, saying pettishly that he seemed determined to interrupt her siesta.

"You may be perfectly sure," said Pier-Angelo to Magnani, "that the sly minx was not asleep, for she only left my workshop just as you came in. Come, children, put aside all these pretty quarrels. Shake hands, since you love each other; and I give you permission to kiss. No! Mila is proud like her poor mother. Ah! friend Antonio, you will be led by the nose as I was, and you will be none the less happy for it, I tell you! Come, kneel and ask her pardon. Signora Mila, must your father kneel too?"

"Father," replied Mila, flushing with pleasure, pride and vexation, all at once, "listen to me, instead of laughing at me, for I must keep my dignity intact! A woman has nothing more precious than her dignity, and no man, not even a father, ever understands what justification we have for being sensitive. I do not choose to be loved by halves, I do not choose to serve as a makeshift and a balm for a partly healed passion. I know that Master Magnani has long been in love with a beautiful unknown, and I am afraid that he is still, a little. Very good! I want him to take time enough to forget her and to give me time to find out whether I love him. This is all too new and strange to be accepted so hurriedly. I know that, when I have given my word, I shall not retract it, even if I regret having done it. I will judge of Magnani's affection," she said, with a reproachful glance at him, "by his evenness of temper with me and the zealousness of his attentions. He has something to set right, and I something to forgive."

"I accept the test," said Magnani, "but not as a punishment; I do not consider that I have been blameworthy in giving way to sorrow and depression. I did not believe that you loved me, and I knew well that I had no right to expect it. I still think that you do not, and if I venture to hope a little, it is in fear and trembling."

"Ah! what fine words, just to say nothing!" cried Pier-Angelo. "In my day we were less eloquent and more sincere. We said: 'Do you love me?'—'Yes, and you?'—'Like a madman.'—'So do I, until death.'—That was better than these long dialogues of yours, which seem like a game, and a game in which you try to annoy and worry each other. But perhaps I am in the way. I will go; when you are alone, you will understand each other better."

"No, father," said Mila, afraid that she should allow herself to be moved and persuaded too quickly, "even if he had enough love and spirit to-day to make me listen to him, I know that I should be sorry to-morrow that I had been so trustful. Besides, I know that you haven't told him everything. I know that he has taken it upon himself to be jealous, because I took a certain erratic walk on the mountain; but I know also that my uncle, when he assured him that I had committed no sin, which he was kind enough to believe, thought it best to say nothing as to the purpose of that walk. But for my own part, I am ashamed, and blush for that circumspection, which apparently was supposed to be necessary to his peace of mind, and I propose to tell him the whole truth."

"As you please, my child," replied Pier-Angelo. "I am inclined to agree with you that you should keep back no part of what you think you ought to tell. So speak as you think best. But you must remember that it is somebody else's secret whom you promised never to name."