"They are not half so beautiful as you are," said the young peasant; "everybody likes you."
"You are very kind, I am sure," said Agnes. "I like everybody, as far as grandmamma thinks it best."
"I am glad of that," said Antonio, "because then I hope you will like me."
"Oh, yes, certainly, I do; grandmamma says you are very good, and I like all good people."
"Well, then, pretty Agnes," said the young man, "let me carry your basket."
"Oh, you don't need to; it does not tire me."
"But I should like to do something for you," insisted the young man, blushing deeply.
"Well, you may, then," said Agnes, who began to wonder at the length of time her grandmother allowed this conversation to go on without interrupting it, as she generally had done when a young man was in the case. Quite to her astonishment, her venerable relative, instead of sticking as close to her as her shadow, was walking forward very fast without looking behind.
"Now, Holy Mother," said that excellent matron, "do help this young man to bring this affair out straight, and give an old woman, who has had a world of troubles, a little peace in her old age!"
Agnes found herself, therefore, quite unusually situated, alone in the company of a handsome young man, and apparently with the consent of her grandmother. Some girls might have felt emotions of embarrassment, or even alarm, at this new situation; but the sacred loneliness and seclusion in which Agnes had been educated had given her a confiding fearlessness, such as voyagers have found in the birds of bright foreign islands which have never been invaded by man. She looked up at Antonio with a pleased, admiring smile,—much such as she would have given, if a great handsome stag, or other sylvan companion, had stepped from the forest and looked a friendship at her through his large liquid eyes. She seemed, in an innocent, frank way, to like to have him walking by her, and thought him very good to carry her basket,—though, as she told him, he need not do it, it did not tire her in the least.