"Do you think that it is fitting for you to have secrets from me, your confessor?"
Nernia was silent; her rosy mouth was closed firmly. It was very terrible to have to displease and disobey Don Silverio; but she would not speak, not if she should burn in everlasting flames for ever.
"Take her away. Take her to Alaida," he said wearily to Gianna.
"She only obeys Adone, sir," said the old woman. "All I can say counts as naught."
"Adone will send her on no more midnight errands, unless he be brute and fool both. Take her away. Look to her, you and Alaida."
"I will do what I can, sir," said Gianna humbly, and pushed the girl out into the village street before her.
Don Silverio sat down at his deal writing-table and wrote in his fine, clear calligraphy a few lines: "In the name of my holy office I forbid you to risk the life and good name of the maiden Nernia on your unlawful errands."
Then he signed and sealed the sheet, and sent it by his sacristan to Adone.
He received no answer.
The night which followed was one of the most bitter in its meditations that he had ever spent; and he had spent many cruel and sleepless nights ere then.