ante, the poor
child having never known her mother, and tried to tell her the torments
of her soul; but she could not achieve her prayer. The thoughts became
entangled within her brain, and she surprised herself uttering strange
words. But, assuredly, the Holy Virgin must have taken pity upon her
lovely devotee, for she rose with the impression of a consoling thought,
resolved to confide everything to her father.

"I cannot have a moment's doubt," she said to herself, as she unlaced her
bodice, "of my father's affection. Well, then, if he forbids me to speak
to him, it will be for my good. And indeed, I have seen him but this
once," she added, as she threw herself upon the bed, "and now I think of
it, I consider him very bold to dare to speak to me. I am almost inclined
to laugh at him. How confidently he brought out his nonsense, how
absurdly he rolled his eyes! They are really very fine, those eyes of
his, and so is his mouth, and his forehead and his hair. He does not
suspect that I noticed his hands, which are really very white, when he
raised them to heaven, like a madman, as he walked up and down by the
sea. Come, come, is he going to prevent my sleeping? I will not see him
again!" she cried, drawing the sheet over her head like an angry child.
Then she began to laugh to herself over her lover's dress, and meditated
long upon what her companions would say to it. Suddenly her brow
contracted painfully, a frightful thought had stolen into her mind, she
shuddered from head to foot. "Suppose he were to think someone else
prettier than me? Men are so foolish! Certainly, it is too hot, and I
shall not sleep to-night."

Then she sat up in her bed, and continued her monologue--which we will
spare the reader--till the morning. Scarcely had the first rays of light
filtered through the interlacing branches of jasmine and wavered into the
room, when Nisida dressed herself hurriedly, and went as usual to present
her forehead to her father's kiss. The old man at once observed the
depression and weariness left by a sleepless night upon his daughter's
face, and parting with an eager and anxious hand the beautiful black hair
that fell over her cheeks, he asked her, "What is the matter, my child?
Thou hast not slept well?"

"I have not slept at all," answered Nisida, smiling, to reassure her
father; "I am perfectly well, but I have something to confess to you."

"Speak quickly, child; I am dying with impatience."