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

by George Sand

"I can safely name him, as his name is in every mouth, especially in these last few days, and, if there is any danger in saying that one knows him, it is only for those who make that boast; however, it is not my purpose to reveal what I know about him; I may therefore tell Master Magnani that I voluntarily passed two hours tête-à-tête with the Piccinino, without telling him where or for what purpose."

"I believe that the fever for making declarations is attacking all women," laughed Pier-Angelo; "since Princess Agatha made the one which has caused so much talk, they all seem determined to confess in public."

Pier-Angelo spoke more truly than he supposed. The example of courage is contagious among women, and the romantically inclined Mila admired Princess Agatha so passionately that she regretted that she had not a secret marriage with the Piccinino to proclaim at that moment, provided always that she had become a widow and could marry Magnani.

But her rash avowal produced an entirely different effect from that which she expected. There was no trace of anxiety on Magnani's face, and she could not rejoice inwardly at having aroused and awakened his love by a flash of jealousy. He became even more melancholy and gentle than usual, kissed Mila's hand, and said to her:

"Your frankness denotes a noble heart, Mila, but there is a little pride mixed with it. Doubtless you intended to put me to a harsh test by telling me something that would alarm any other man than myself to the last degree. But I know your father and your uncle too well to fear that they deceived me when they said that you went into the mountain to do a good deed. So do not try to puzzle me; that would be cruel on your part, because you could have no other object than to make me unhappy. Tell me everything or tell me nothing. I have no right to demand disclosures which would compromise anyone, but I have the right to ask you not to play with me by trying to shake my confidence in you."

Pier-Angelo declared that on this occasion Magnani talked like a book, and that no one could possibly make a more straightforward, generous and sensible reply on such a delicate subject.

But what had taken place in little Mila's heart within a few days? It may be that one should never play with fire, however worthy the motive of one's action, and that she really did wrong to go to Nicolosi. However that may be, Magnani's reply did not please her as much as it did her father, and she felt chilled and piqued by the sort of paternal lecture which her lover had given her.

"Sermons already!" she said, rising, as a hint to Magnani that she proposed to go no farther with him that day; "and sermons to me, whom you pretend to love with so little hope and courage? It seems to me, neighbor, on the other hand, that you expect to find me very tractable and submissive. Well, I am afraid that you are mistaken. I am a child, and I ought to know it, for I am told so from morning till night; but I know very well that when one is really in love, he sees no fault—nothing wrong—in the conduct of the loved one. Everything she does is charming, or at all events sincere. He doesn't call her loyalty haughtiness, and her pride childish teasing. You see, Magnani, that it is a pity to see too clearly in love. There is a song that says that Cupid is a blind bambino. Father knows it; he will sing it to you. Meanwhile, understand that clairvoyance is contagious, and that he who removes the bandage from his eyes discloses his own faults to others at the same time. You have discovered that I am a little overbearing, and you think doubtless that I am a flirt. For my part, that shows me that you are very proud, and I am afraid that you are a bit of a pedant."

The Angelos hoped that the cloud would pass over, and that, after giving vent to her vexation, Mila would be all the more loving and Magnani all the happier. Indeed, they had interviews and battles of words and sentiments, in which they were so near coming to terms, that their sudden falling-out again a moment later, Magnani's depression and Mila's excitement, seemed inexplicable. Magnani was terrified sometimes to find so much spirit and will-power in a woman. Mila was afraid of so much gravity and unwavering common sense in a man. It seemed to her that Magnani was incapable of feeling a great passion, and she wished to inspire one, because she felt in a mood to plunge into it violently on her own account. He always spoke and thought like virtue personified, and it was with an imperceptible touch of irony that Mila called him the just man par excellence.

She was very coquettish with him, and Magnani, instead of taking pleasure in her ingenious and strenuous efforts to please him, was afraid that she was a little coquettish with all men. Ah! if he had seen her in the Piccinino's boudoir, holding in check and subduing by her exquisite chastity, by her virile simplicity, so to speak, the young brigand's crafty inclinations and evil thoughts, Magnani would have realized that Mila was no coquette, since she was coquettish with him alone.