“Let us drop the subject,” said she, with incomparable dignity of gesture, expression, and attitude.  “Make a splendid fortune, be one of the remarkable men of your country; that is my desire.  Fame is a drawbridge which may serve to cross a deep gulf.  Be ambitious if you must.  I believe you have great and powerful talents, but use them rather for the happiness of mankind than to deserve me; you will be all the greater in my eyes.”

In the course of this conversation, which lasted two hours, Rodolphe discovered that Francesca was an enthusiast for Liberal ideas, and for that worship of liberty which had led to the three revolutions in Naples, Piemont, and Spain.  On leaving, he was shown to the door by Gina, the so-called mute.  At eleven o’clock no one was astir in the village, there was no fear of listeners; Rodolphe took Gina into a corner, and asked her in a low voice and bad Italian, “Who are your master and mistress, child?  Tell me, I will give you this fine new gold piece.”

“Monsieur,” said the girl, taking the coin, “my master is the famous bookseller Lamporani of Milan, one of the leaders of the revolution, and the conspirator of all others whom Austria would most like to have in the Spielberg.”

“A bookseller’s wife!  Ah, so much the better,” thought he; “we are on an equal footing.—­And what is her family?” he added, “for she looks like a queen.”

“All Italian women do,” replied Gina proudly.  “Her father’s name is Colonna.”

Emboldened by Francesca’s modest rank, Rodolphe had an awning fitted to his boat and cushions in the stern.  When this was done, the lover came to propose to Francesca to come out on the lake.  The Italian accepted, no doubt to carry out her part of a young English Miss in the eyes of the villagers, but she brought Gina with her.  Francesca Colonna’s lightest actions betrayed a superior education and the highest social rank.  By the way in which she took her place at the end of the boat Rodolphe felt himself in some sort cut off from her, and, in the face of a look of pride worthy of an aristocrat, the familiarity he had intended fell dead.  By a glance Francesca made herself a princess, with all the prerogatives she might have enjoyed in the Middle Ages.  She seemed to have read the thoughts of this vassal who was so audacious as to constitute himself her protector.

Already, in the furniture of the room where Francesca had received him, in her dress, and in the various trifles she made use of, Rodolphe had detected indications of a superior character and a fine fortune.  All these observations now recurred to his mind; he became thoughtful after having been trampled on, as it were, by Francesca’s dignity.  Gina, her half-grown-up confidante, also seemed to have a mocking expression as she gave a covert or a side glance at Rodolphe.  This obvious disagreement between the Italian lady’s rank and her manners was a fresh puzzle to Rodolphe, who suspected some further trick like Gina’s assumed dumbness.