When Florida saw that prayers, reasoning, and tears were alike of no avail, and that while he cruelly pursued his evil purpose she lacked the strength to resist him, she summoned the aid which she dreaded as greatly as death, and in a sad and piteous voice called as loudly as she could upon her mother.  The Countess, hearing her daughter’s cries, had grave misgivings of the truth, and hastened into the room with all possible speed.

Amadour, who was not so ready to die as he affirmed, desisted promptly from his enterprise; and when the lady opened the door she found him close beside it, and Florida some distance from him.  “Amadour,” said the Countess, “what is the matter?  Tell me the truth.”

Amadour, who was never at a loss for invention, replied with a pale and daunted face—­

“Alas! madam, what change is this in the lady Florida?  I was never so astonished before, for, as I have told you, I thought I had a share in her favour; but I now see clearly that I have lost it all.  While she was being brought up by you, she was, I think, no less discreet or virtuous than she is at present; however, she had then no qualms of conscience about speaking with any one.  But now, when I sought to look at her, she would not suffer me to do so.  When I saw this behaviour on her part I thought I must be dreaming, and asked her for her hand to kiss it after the manner of the country.  This she utterly refused me.  I acknowledge, madam, that then I acted wrongfully, and I entreat your pardon for it; for I took her hand, as it were by force, and kissed it.  I asked nothing more of her, but I believe that she intends my death, for she called out to you as you know.  Why she did this I cannot tell, unless indeed she feared that I had some other purpose in view.  Nevertheless, madam, be this as it may, I confess that I am in the wrong; for although she ought to love all who are devoted to you, fortune wills it that I, who am of all most attached to her, am banished from her good graces.  Still, I shall ever continue the same both to you and to her; and I entreat you to continue me in your good favour since, by no fault of my own, I have now lost hers.”

The Countess, who partly believed and partly suspected him, went up to her daughter and asked—­“Why did you call me so loudly?”

Florida replied that she had felt afraid; and, although the Countess questioned her minutely on many points, she would give no other reply.  Finding that she had escaped from her enemy she deemed him sufficiently punished by the failure of his attempt.

After the Countess had had a long conversation with Amadour, she suffered him to speak again in her presence with Florida, to see how he would behave.  He said but little, save that he thanked her for not having confessed the truth to her mother, and begged that since she had expelled him from her heart, she would at least allow no other to take his place.