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It was directly in the line of the moon's rays, and the stopper gleamed like a little star. Annetta started with joy as she saw it. It was the very bottle from which he had given her the camphor, less than a month ago the same in size, in its transparent contents, in its label. It might have deceived a keener eye than hers.
But how can she sin in her throat, since she sees no man but the gardener and the priest? Indeed, you say foolish things!" "And what has that to do with it?" inquired Annetta. "She must have seen enough of men in Rome, every one of them a great lord. And who tells you that she did not love one of them and does not wish that she were married to him?
"She never shows me her face." "What a shame for a Carmelite nun to show her face to a man!" cried the girl. "But I tell you she is always veiled to her chin," insisted Dalrymple, with perfect truth. "Eh! It is you who say so!" retorted Annetta. "But then, what can it matter to me? Make love with a nun, if it goes, Signore. Youth is a flower when it is withered, it is hay, and the beasts eat it."
He had been living the life of a hermit for months, and had almost forgotten the sound of an educated woman's voice. To him Annetta was nothing more than a rather pretty wild animal. It did not enter his head that she might be in love with him. Sora Nanna was simply an older and uglier animal of the same species.
"Your highness," said she, as though communicating a most agreeable piece of news, "your highness, here is the French ambassador. "Peace, Annetta, peace!" cried Victor Amadeus. But Annetta was too much interested to hear, and she went on with great volubility: "Here he is; I passed him through. Everybody mistook him for Prince Eugene "
Gloomy and preoccupied, without even a book before him, Dalrymple sat with his back to the wall, drinking his wine in silence, and staring at the lamp. Sora Nanna asked him whether he had seen Annetta. He shook his head without speaking. The woman observed that the girls were quite capable of spending a second night at Civitella to prolong the festivities. Dalrymple nodded, not caring at all.
"I told Annetta it was very wrong to copy another person's letter and pass it off as her own. But I'm afraid that all Annetta repented of was being found out. "'And I do love you, teacher, she sobbed. 'It was all true, even if the minister wrote it first. I do love you with all my heart. "It's very difficult to scold anybody properly under such circumstances. "Here is Barbara Shaw's letter.
It is I that tell you. I made it myself, yesterday morning, for the doctor, to refresh his blood a little." Annetta had risen to her feet and was watching the glasses, as the old woman stirred the white syrup in the water with an old-fashioned, long-handled spoon. She did not wish to seem absurdly suspicious, and yet she distrusted her enemy.
"Was Sister Maria Addolorata a great sinner, before she became a nun?" asked Annetta, Sora Nanna's daughter, of her mother, one day, as they came away from the convent. "What are you saying!" exclaimed the washerwoman, in a tone of rebuke. "She is a great lady, and the niece of the abbess and of the cardinal. Sometimes certain ideas pass through your head, my daughter!"
She still felt the clasp of Annetta Bell's arms about her neck and heard the childish wail, "I'll NEVER love any teacher as much as you, Miss Shirley, never, never." For two years she had worked earnestly and faithfully, making many mistakes and learning from them. She had had her reward.
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