"Take my advice, child," said the little woman, at the end of a long conversation. "Directly he appears, and without any beating about the bush, tell him that he will only lose time in trying to excuse himself. Do that, Mary--I advise you; he is young enough to grow a better man, if he begins in time. It is scandalous and, dear heart, much as I wish it, I cannot retract a word that I spoke in my first burst of anger. God has, however, brought other sinners to himself before now; if he only had more religion; you must confess that I have often spoken to him about it, and now you see I was right; shame upon him, child, to have no more respect for you! I looked round, fortunately none of your acquaintances were sitting near us, for respectable people do not go into this part of the circus, but into the private boxes, unless, indeed, they want to study the people. But he spoilt the whole play for me; and I cannot forgive him. Dear me! if you had been with me, you would have died upon the spot! _Do_ you think that he took his eyes off her for a moment? And she seemed to know him--an old passion--and that might be some excuse for him; for he has found girls pretty enough before he knew you. But people ought to have some self-respect, at least in public, and pretend not to recognise each other. Well, well, child, when you talk to him seriously and once for all, he will shrink in his shoes; but if _you_ will not do it--willingly as I would spare you--my principles require me to tell it all to your parents, that they may bring him to his senses. It would be too great a disgrace and misfortune for a family like yours to receive such a frivolous person into its circle. Have you never heard of any old Roman flirtation which he gave up on your account?" "No," said the girl, in a low voice. How could she confess that the description of her officious tale-bearer brought a picture vividly before her mind, which had once before caused her an anxious day? The day after Theodore had told her about the dance in the osteria, she had walked arm-in-arm with him through the town. From out a lowly window looked a lovely face, which she pointed out to her friend. He had been unable to repress a sudden start, and the girl, too, seemed to recognize him. "It is the girl from Albano of last night," he said, and then turned the conversation suddenly to another subject. But the face had impressed itself feature by feature upon her memory. "Do not be down-hearted, my child," said Miss Betsy, passing her hand over Mary's hair, "and don't fret. Human beings, and men in particular, are not angels. Dear me! who has not had to bear the like. Do you talk seriously to him, and all will come right. Good night, my child; I will come and see you to-morrow. Heaven bless you!"