Annina was too much practised in deception to indulge in any of the ordinary female symptoms, either of real or of affected alarm. Commanding her features, though in truth her limbs shook, she said with assumed pleasantry—
"The secret trade is honored in the services of the noble Duke of St. Agata!"
"I am not here to trifle, girl, as thou wilt see in the end. Thou hast thy choice before thee, frank confession or my just anger."
Don Camillo spoke calmly, but in a manner that plainly showed Annina she had to deal with a resolute man.
"What confession would your eccellenza have from the daughter of a poor wine-seller?" she asked, her voice trembling in spite of herself.
"The truth—and remember that this time we do not part until I am satisfied. The Venetian police and I are now fairly at issue, and thou art the first fruits of my plan."
"Signor Duca, this is a bold step to take in the heart of the canals!"
"The consequences be mine. Thy interest will teach thee to confess."
"I shall make no great merit, Signore, of doing that which is forced upon me. As it is your pleasure to know the little I can tell you, I am happy to be permitted to relate it."
"Speak then; for time presses."