"One thing at a time," said she, breathing very fast. "Has Donna Aurelia's husband returned?" I told her that he had not, but that there were good hopes of him shortly.
"And you have said farewell? You are free—free as the air?"
"It is my duty," I told her, "never to see Donna Aurelia again, and I will not if I can help it."
She frowned, then threw up her hands. "I don't understand anything about you! Is this love or madness? You love a lady, who loves you—you find her here—alone—you meet—you speak—you look at each other—you take her by the hand and lead her back to her husband—and tell her that she will never see you again. And she allows it!"
"Not only so," said I, "but it was she who turned her back upon me. And she did rightly."
"Why did she so?" she asked me. I had to tell her that it was on her account.
It made her peer with her eyes, in which, however, a keen light burned. She took a step towards me; I thought she would be in my arms; but instead she stopped short, breathing fast through her nostrils.
'"Tell me this, tell me this," she said, "was she the fool, or were you?"
I laughed. "My girl," I told her, "if I am a fool it is not for you to say so. But I believe, for all that, that you are paying me a compliment." She did not comprehend me, so took refuge in a quip— tossing her head at me.
She said, "I wish your worship joy of my compliment."