"That is well; now, listen to me. I have just discovered a secret of great importance to you, which we must not let anybody else discover! I know who your lover is—the man whom you love."
"You know, madame?"
"Yes, I tell you; and you are going to tell me if I am mistaken. The man whom you have not seen for so long a time, the man for whose sake you came to France, of whom you are constantly thinking, and who causes you so much anxiety—is Giovanni!"
"O madame! you think——"
"It is Giovanni! Contradict me if you dare!—Have no fear of me, Miretta; you should know me well. But remember your oath: the man you love is Giovanni, is he not? Answer—answer!"
Miretta fell on her knees before her mistress, clasping her hands, and murmured at last:
"Yes, madame, yes—it is Giovanni who is my lover.—Oh! forgive me!"
"Rise, rise, my child! Your frankness makes me more fond of you. Do you think, pray, that I asked you for your secret with the intention of reproaching you? You loved this Giovanni, doubtless, before he became a brigand?"
"Oh! yes, madame."
"And since you have known the trade he was plying, you have not ceased to love him!—I understand that. I understand all that love can lead one to do. Under the sway of that passion, is it possible to reason, to reflect?—And then, this man must be very brave; the reputation he has made for himself, the very terror inseparable from his name—yes, there is something in all that which almost makes one forget his crimes."