She laughed gently, then sighed.  “You must not say so to me, even if it is true,” she said.  I repeated the words, “I love you—­you are my soul,” and she was silent.

I said, after a pause, during which I could hear the furious beating of my heart, “I am at my prayers, in my church, before my altar.  Your eyes are the candles, your heart is the altar stone.  I kneel—­” and I did kneel.  Then she grew alarmed, and was for stopping me.

“Checho,” she said, “this is foolish, and I must not listen.  I beg you to get up; I know it is late.  Please to ask Nonna what’s o’clock.  I am serious.”

“And I,” I said, “am serious.  The time is full—­the time is now.  Oh, Aurelia,” I said urgently, “my saint and my lamp—­”

“Hush, hush,” she said, and tried to regain her hand.  “No, but you must be quiet.  Listen!” But I could not now be stopped.

“Oh,” I cried out, “I have been silent too long, and now I must speak.  For six months I have been silent; but now there is death in silence.  I shall die of love, and it will be you that will have killed me.”  I knelt again, and again said, “I love you.”

“Oh, no, no,” she said, but her protest was fainter.  I repeated it, and now she made no protest.  God help me, I thought her won.  I flung myself violently near, and in my agitation knocked over my chair.  As that fell backwards, so fell I forwards to her knees.  I clasped them closely, studded kisses on her hands, I raised my face to hers, and saw her the lovelier for her pale terror.  She was speechless.

“Listen to me, Aurelia, youngest of the angels,” I began, and just then old Nonna burst in upon me crying “Ruin!” I sprang to my feet, and Aurelia away, her work table went down, the lamp with it; we were all three in darkness.

“Ruin!” said Nonna, “I tell you, ruin!  That wretched boy—­the padron is on the stair.”

Aurelia shrieked that she was undone; Nonna, who had flown back into the kitchen, returned with a lamp.  I saw my beautiful mistress distraught and ran forward to comfort her.  She shrank from me with horror, as well she might.  “Farewell, lady,” I said, “I will go to meet what I deserve.”

I took my cloak, hat and sword, and went to the door, but Nonna caught me by the skirt, and, “Is he mad then?” she cried; and, “What are you about, Don Francis?  Will you meet the padron on the stair and let him up to see this wreckage?  Madonna purissima, what is one to do with a boy of this sort?”

“Let me go,” said I, “to my proper fate.  I know very well what I have done.”  It may be that I did, and I hope that I did; but very certainly I did not know what to do next; nor did Aurelia.  Sobbing and trembling she lay upon Nonna’s breast, imploring her to save us both.  I heard the professor clear his throat upon the floor below, and knew that I was too late.  Nonna took the command.