Minna was not a vain woman, but a very proud one. She would gladly have sacrificed any incense to her vanity, to her sense of power of attraction, afforded by the present situation, if by so doing she could have eased the misery of poor Signor Giuseppe’s heart. But no action of hers would ease that misery, whereas the idea of beating a retreat before the oncoming Signora Dietrich made her turn hot and cold, and hot again, with a nameless feeling of anger and indignation. ‘I could never despise you, Signor Oriole. It is not in my nature to despise those who are suffering. You have been pained by what is now past, because you mistrusted me and did not see things as they were. I am not so bad as you thought. Now you mistrust me again. You want me to go away because you think I shall be hard or censorious, or something odious.’ ‘No, it is not that,’ he almost groaned. ‘It is not that. It is quite different. It is again a selfish reason.’ ‘Would it not be better, since now all is clear between us, to trust me thoroughly, and let me stay?’ she said, softly and persuasively. ‘We are friends, are we not?’ He stopped suddenly in his restless pacing about the room, and stood in front of her. ‘You are--you would--you could take me for your friend!’ he exclaimed. ‘Why not, if you will have me for yours?’ ‘You do not know what that would mean to me. You know--you must know, from your own observation, that mine is a ruined life--a wreck. But you would be my friend?’ ‘If you will be mine, as I said,’ she replied. ‘If--ah, signora! I shall never doubt you any more--never. Your hand on the bargain.’ Unhesitatingly she placed her hand within his, and he, holding it, bent his dark eyes upon her with an expression of mingled pride and sadness, and said: ‘I have found a treasure I never more expected to know--a friend, a good, true, gentle, yet spirited woman, my friend.... And you will yield to my foolish wish, and will leave me to struggle alone with my unhappy position. The thought that you are my friend will help me along, and the knowledge that you are happy, and in your true and natural surroundings, and out of these utterly false ones, will console me many a time when I should otherwise be utterly despondent.’ ‘You say you trust me--that you will never mistrust me again; and in the same breath you show the greatest possible mistrust of me--you bid me go,’ said Minna, with tears in her voice. ‘Signora----’ he stammered. ‘That is not trusting me,’ she pursued coldly. ‘To bid me fly, beat a retreat--I, your friend--simply because Signora Dietrich is coming home! I am not afraid of Signora Dietrich--are you?’ Oriole dropped her hand, and she saw his face turn pale all over. He seemed scarcely able to breathe for a few minutes, then said deliberately: