her pretty head, and playing nervously with the folds of her dress in a manner which had the accidental effect of causing it to leave uncovered an additional inch of silk stocking—­“it did occur to me as possible that the Marchese Lamberto might come to me sooner than the time named for the meeting with the impresario;—­for the sake of giving me any hints that his perfect knowledge of the subject might suggest; and I fully intended to be dressed and ready to receive him if be should show me any such condescending kindness--and so told my maid to make an exception in his case to my invariable rule!  And then the minutes slipped away; and I fell into a reverie, thinking—­thinking—­thinking; and then, all of a sudden, before I knew that there was any one in the room—­if you think of the devil—­and I suppose it is equally true if you think of an angel;—­but there, again, that was not intended to be any part of my confession.  I think I shall give up confession, at all events to you, Signor Marchese, for the future.  But now I have confessed myself this time, and told the whole, whole truth—­may I hope for absolution?”

There was an adorable mixture of candour, and gaiety of heart, and child-like simplicity in the beautiful features as she looked up into his face when she finished speaking, together with an expression of appealing confidence and almost tenderness in the eyes that achieved the final and complete subjugation of the Marchese.

Again he took her hand, and again his head swam round with the violence of the emotion caused by the contact of palm with palm, as he said,

“Ah, Signora, if I were equally candid perhaps it would turn out that it was for me to confess, and for you to grant absolution—­if you could.  Do you think you could?” he said, raising her hand to his lips as he said the words.

“Ha!  Signor Marchese, that would quite depend upon the nature of the confession.  When I have heard it I will do my best to be an indulgent confessor.  But, however curious I may be to hear you in the confessional, it must not be now; or I shall really not be ready to receive Signor Stadione.  Heavens!  It wants only ten minutes to one now.  I must run and dress as quickly as I possibly can.  To think that almost an hour should have run away since you came here; and it seems like ten minutes.  May I beg your indulgence, Signor Marchese, if I ask you to wait for me while I dress?  I will be as quick as I possibly can.”

“On no account hurry yourself, Signora.  It is my fault for having detained you.  And if I had to wait ten hours instead of one, would not the one I have passed be cheaply purchased?  Never mind Stadione; I will explain to him that you are dressing—­”

“And that you have been made to wait some time already by my abominable unpunctuality,” said Bianca, holding up one fore-finger and giving him a look of mutual intelligence.

“Of course—­of course.  A chi lo dite!” returned the Marchese, giving her once more his hand to help her to rise from the sofa.