Zappa had hitherto contrived to prevent the meeting of Ada and Nina, by compelling both of them to remain shut up in their respective parts of the castle. The cause of this conduct it is scarcely necessary to explain. His object was to keep Nina ignorant of the presence of her rival, and he also hoped to bend Ada’s haughty spirit by the confinement to which she was subject. It could not, however, be supposed that Nina should not hear rumours of the presence of a stranger in the island, although Paolo had been careful not to hurt his sister’s feelings needlessly, by speaking of her. Little Mila, the only personal attendant with whom she could converse, had been warned not to mention the arrival of Ada and her attendant; and for some time she kept the secret which was burning on her tongue; but as she suffered somewhat from that infirmity which is said, I suspect unjustly, to be peculiar to her sex, she at last began to think that she had kept it long enough. She did not, however, at once announce the information she had to communicate, but reserved to herself the pleasure of giving it out by driblets.
“We shall have the whole castle built up as it used to be, one of these days, I suspect, signora,” she observed, as she was assisting Nina to dress. “It would be difficult, though, to arrange a more handsome room than this.”
“No, Mila, scarcely could anything be more beautiful than this. But why should you say so?” asked Nina, whose suspicions had already been aroused by her attendant’s previous remarks.
“Why, signora, I was comparing it with a room I have seen elsewhere, which is also very magnificent,” returned Mila.
“You have seen! Why, you have never been off this island,” exclaimed Nina.
“That is true, signora,” said the Greek girl; “but the room I speak of is on the island, and I confess it is at no great distance from this tower.”
“I was not aware that any other part of the castle was inhabited, except the tower and the house close to it,” observed Nina.
“There you are mistaken, signora. The other old tower to the east of this, has had a room lately fitted up, very much like this, and there lives there a good-natured, lively girl, who tells me—for we manage to talk very well together—that she was born in an island like this, only larger. I like her very much, though she is not at all pretty; but she has a mistress, a young lady, who also lives in the tower, who is a complete angel—so fair, and kind, and beautiful, though she does not speak much, as she does not understand a word of Romaic; but I loved her the moment I saw her, and I am sure you would do so also, signora, were you to see her.”
“A lady! young, and fair, and beautiful,” repeated the Italian girl, a feeling gushing into her bosom which was very far from being allied to love. “Who is she? how long has she been here? what is she like?”
“As to who she is, signora, all I know is, that they say she belongs to a people who have big ships, and have never been slaves to the Turks; then she has been here ever since our chief came back; for he brought her in his vessel with Signor Paolo, your brother, who knows more about her than I do; and I suspect, loves her also not a little. And with regard to what she is like—she is not so tall as you are, signora; but her skin is as clear as yours, and fair as the foam blown across the ocean in a winter’s storm, with some of the hue stolen from the rose on her cheeks; and her eyes—so soft they are, and of the same tint as the brightest spot in the cloudless sky above our heads.”