"What did she say to my mother?"
"Nothing; only that she had to go."
"Faithful little soul!"
"Aye! And it is when little maids are faithful like this that men ruin them. I do not want to speak without respect to you, Adone, for I have eaten your bread and been sheltered by your roof through many a year; but for whatever end you send that child out of nights, you do a bad thing, a cruel thing, a thing unworthy of your stock; and if I know Clelia Alba——and who should know her if not I?— she will never let Nerina enter her house again."
Adone's face grew dark.
"The house is mine. Nerina shall not be turned out of it."
"Perhaps it is yours; but it is your mother's too, and you will scarce turn out your mother for the sake of a little beggar-girl?"
Adone was silent; he saw the dilemma; he knew his mother's nature; he inherited it.
"Go you," he said at last; "go you and tell her that the child went out on my errands, indeed, but I have not seen her; there is no collusion with her, and she is not and never will be dama of mine."
"I will take her no such message, for she would not listen. Go you; say what you choose; perhaps she will credit you, perhaps she will not. Anyhow, you are warned. As for me, I will go and search for Nerina."