THE FOOL ERRANT - World eBook Library - World Public Library

"Yes, yes," she said, "I have seen your Aurelia. She came to our convent a week ago in a chaise and pair."
This startled me—a week ago!
"I should have told you before if I could," she continued, "but they keep us close, us penitents. I have run away; I could not bear
that you should remain ignorant. If they find me they will beat me to death."
I assured her of my protection and returned to the subject of Aurelia. How, I asked, had she come? Had she been ill—in
distress?
"Not at all," said Virginia. "She was elegantly dressed. She was protected by an old woman. She wore a mask and a travelling
hood, and went into the nuns' parlour. She asked for a cup of chocolate, which was brought her. I saw her in the chapel at the
office."
How often had I seen her so—my saint on her knees!
"She was on her knees—yes," said Virginia, "but she yawned very much. She did not rise till noon on the next morning."
I clasped my friend's hand. "Oh, Virginia, you have seen her!" I cried. "You help me to see her. Is she not perfection?"
Virginia was rather cool. "Who knows?" she said, shrugging, "she is like all Sienese women. She is fatter than I am. I allow her
shape. But she is not near so tall. She is a little thing. She wears her clothes well. And she is merry enough when she has her
tongue." I could afford to smile at this grudging admiration. "My dear girl," I said, "you little know her—but how should you?
Tell me more. Did you speak to her?" She nodded her head and told her story. "I waited my time. I was washing the canon's
linen in the little cloister. That was my job, week in and week out. She came through. She was scolding her old woman. I
followed her round the cloister, and when the coast was clear, said, 'Hist, Madonna.' She turned and looked at me with her
eyes wide open. They are handsome eyes for a Sienese woman. That I allow. She said, 'Do you call me?' Says I, 'I do.' She
says, 'Well?' I reply, 'He is well if you are.' 'Who, then?' says she. I say, 'Your lover.' This makes her jump like a flea on the
bed. But she brazens it out finely, turning to her old crone with a 'What does the girl mean?' Bless you, THEY knew well
enough. I folded my arms—so; I said, 'He has walked the stony hills barefoot to find you. He will be out of his skin, standing on
his head, to know you are here.' She stamped her foot and flew into a passion. 'How dare you?' she cries out. 'Tell me of whom
you are talking this rubbish.' I nodded my head many times—so—and said, 'You are lucky to have him so fast.' She went
away. After that she never passed me without tossing her head; and presently I ran away." I was greatly perturbed by this tale
of hers, and not unreasonably angry. I said, "Unhappy girl! you little know the harm you have done. Have I instructed you so
badly in myself that you can think to serve me by your servant-girl mysteries and your nods and winks? I enjoin you to leave my
affairs absolutely alone. You are to tell me no more, speak of me no more, see Donna Aurelia no more. Since you have left the
convent and are in danger of punishment, you must, of course, stay here. You must be properly clothed and looked after. I will
see to that. Now recover yourself, and remember what I have said." I was almost immediately sorry for my plain speaking; she
was in extreme misery, I could see. Tears streamed through her fingers, her body was convulsed with grief. More than once she
seemed upon the point of lashing out at me with some furious blast of indignation; but she always checked it, as it seemed, when
it was at the edge of her lips. Unthinking fool that I was! I little knew or guessed what she had endured at the convent for my
sake; how, treated as a sinful woman, she had been the object of hard judgment and undeserved reproach—preached at,
prayed over, lectured, scolded, made a slave of; how she had loved me and believed in me through all; and how, unable to bear
her lot, coming to me at last, I had proved the most cruel of her oppressors—and precisely the most cruel because, from me,
she deserved the least reproach. However, I must not extenuate myself, nor forestall my history. I begged her pardon for my
severity and obtained her ready forgiveness. From that hour forward she kept herself apart from me as my servant, having
arranged for her share of his duties with Scipione; and she never by word or look recalled the time when a much closer intimacy
had existed between us.
One disturbing incident in my affairs with her must be mentioned in this place, although it did not occur until I had twice waited
upon Donna Aurelia. It was indeed upon my return from the second of those visits that Scipione came into the room after me
with some secret or another which he itched, evidently, to impart to me. After some hesitation, he asked leave to exhibit Virginia
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