cious manner of glancing her eye around, as the official, and
it would seem, by the idle question she put, that her entrance had some
other object than the mere pretence which she made of consulting her new
mistress's humor in the color of a robe.

"Do as thou wilt, girl," said Violetta, with impatience; "thou knowest
the place of my intended retirement, and can'st judge of the fitness of
my attire. Hasten thy preparations, that I be not the cause of delay.
Enrico, attend my new maid to the wardrobe."

Annina reluctantly withdrew, for she was far too much practised in wiles
not to distrust this unexpected compliance with the will of the council,
or not to perceive that she was admitted with displeasure to the
discharge of her new duties. As the faithful domestic of Donna Violetta
kept at her side, she was fain, however, to submit, and suffered herself
to be led a few steps from the door. Suddenly pretending to recollect a
new question, she returned with so much rapidity as to be again in the
room before Enrico could anticipate the intention.

"Daughter, complete thy errands, and forbear to interrupt our privacy,"
said the monk, sternly. "I am about to confess this penitent, who may
pine long for the consolations of the holy office ere we meet again. If
thou hast not aught urgent, withdraw, ere thou seriously givest offence
to the church."

The severity of the Carmelite's tone, and the commanding, though subdued
gleaming of his eye, had the effect to awe the girl. Quailing before his
look, and in truth startled at the risk she ran in offending against
opinions so deeply seated in the minds of all, and from which her own
superstitious habits were far from free, she muttered a few words of
apology, and finally withdrew. There was another uneasy and suspicious
glance thrown around her, however, before the door was closed. When they
were once more alone, the monk motioned for silence to the impetuous Don
Camillo, who could scarce restrain his impatience until the intruder
departed.

"Son, be prudent," he said; "we are in the midst of treachery; in this
unhappy city none know in whom they can confide."

"I think we are sure of Enrico," said the Donna Florinda, though the
very doubts she affected not to feel lingered in the tones of her voice.

"It matters not, daughter. He is ignorant of the presence of Don
Camillo, and in that we are safe. Duke of Sant' Agata, if you can
deliver us from these toils we will accompany y