"She's ashamed of herself, sir," he said, "as well she may be. What a scandal, my word! But these baggages have no modesty."
The term offended me. I told him he was talking nonsense. "She is a true friend," I said, "whose sympathy may be excessive; but to take joy in my joy is the act of a friend."
Scipione saluted me. "Sir, if her joy is your honour's, I have no more to say. A gentleman is entitled to his pleasures, I hope. And she is a handsome girl, though she is thin."
"That will do, my man," said I. "You say that she is better."
"She is as well, sir, as she deserves," replied this assured fellow, "but she is mad."
"Mad!" I cried.
"Why, yes, sir," says he. "Judge for yourself. Here is a girl frying in love, wanting to tell your honour that another is yours for the asking." He angered me by this freedom—which I can assure the reader is not uncommon in this country—and I dismissed him with a few directions. I said that I must go out at once and was uncertain when I should return. Meantime Virginia was to have every care, and was to be provided with— among other things—suitable clothes for one in the position of a house- servant. Those in which she had made her sudden appearance before me were obviously peculiar to the convent in which she worked, and to her standing there. I left some money with Scipione and went out.
Perhaps it had been better to have interrogated Virginia before taking the step I now took, and so I should have done had I not been rather disturbed in my mind, first, by my own pleasure at seeing her again— which I now considered to have been disloyal to Aurelia—and next, by Scipione's account of her state of heart. Virginia in love with me! This was not the first time I had suspected it; but, reflecting upon our meeting, I was not able to deny that she had been very much moved. Now, should it be true, I thought to myself, what on earth was I to do? What, indeed, were the MERITS of the case? Was the fault mine—and how could I best repair it? These questions were beyond my then powers of resolution while I was uncertain of Aurelia's fate and prospects, and I deliberately put them aside. I turned all my powers of mind and heart to consider her injuries, probable sufferings and monstrous humiliations, and by the time I was near the Convent of SS. Maria e Giuseppe I was trembling in every limb, and in the state of apprehension and desire which becomes the devout lover of a lady incredibly lovely and wise.
I approached the shabby gate, and with uncovered head saluted the posts which held it up. I rang the bell, the portress appeared; I asked her for my mistress by name; she said that she would take up mine to the Lady Superior if my lordship would be pleased to wait. Then she disappeared, and my lordship stood fainting there.
Father Carnesecchi, I perceived, was with Aurelia; for the note brought back by the portress was all in his handwriting but the signature. The initials A. L. were in her own. She said, or the respectable Jesuit said for her, that she was highly sensible of my courtesy in waiting upon her, and deplored that, as she was somewhat fatigued and about to return to Padua, it was impossible for her to receive me at the moment. She hoped on a future occasion to find suitable expression of her feelings, and begged in the meantime to assure me of her entire respect.