“Thy goodness of heart did not mislead thee.”

“Had I known it was a lady of the Tiepolo, I should have been even more ready; for there are few of that great name now left to do us honor.”

Violetta curtsied to the compliment, but she seemed uneasy that haste and pride of rank had led her so indiscreetly to betray herself.

“Canst thou not lead us to some place less public?” she asked, observing that her conductor had stopped in a public corridor to make this explanation.

“Here you will be retired as in your own palaces, great ladies,” answered Gelsomina, turning into a private passage, and leading the way towards the rooms of her family, from a window of which she had first witnessed the embarrassment of her guests.  “None enter here, without cause, but my father and myself; and my father is much occupied with his charge.”

“Hast thou no domestic?”

“None, lady.  A prison-keeper’s daughter should not be too proud to serve herself.”

“Thou sayest well.  One of thy discretion, good Gelsomina, must know it is not seemly for females of condition to be thrown within walls like these, even by accident, and thou wilt do us much favor, by taking more than common means to be certain that we are unseen.  We give thee much trouble, but it shall not go unrequited.  Here is gold.”

Gelsomina did not answer, but as she stood with her eyes cast to the floor, the color stole to her cheeks, until her usually bloodless face was in a soft glow.

“Nay, I have mistaken thy character!” said Donna Florinda, secreting the sequins, and taking the unresisting hand of the silent girl.  “If I have pained thee by my indiscretion, attribute the offer to our dread of the disgrace of being seen in this place.”

The glow deepened, and the lips of the girl quivered.

“Is it then a disgrace to be innocently within these walls, lady?” she asked, still with an averted eye.  “I have long suspected this, but none has ever before said it, in my hearing!”

“Holy Maria pardon me!  If I have uttered a syllable to pain thee, excellent girl, it has been unwittingly and without intention!”

“We are poor, lady, and the needy must submit to do that which their wishes might lead them to avoid.  I understand your feelings, and will make sure of your being secret, and Blessed Maria will pardon a greater sin than any you have committed here.”

While the ladies were wondering, at witnessing such proofs of delicacy and feeling in so singular a place, the girl withdrew.

“I had not expected this in a prison!” exclaimed Violetta.

“As all is not noble or just in a palace, neither is all to be condemned unheard, that we find in a prison.  But this is, in sooth, an extraordinary girl for her condition, and we are indebted to blessed St. Theodore (crossing herself) for putting her in our way.”

“Can we do better than by making her a confidante and a friend?”