"Only dis day an' dis night," said Girasole, imploringly. "Aftaire you sall have all you sall wis." "Well, at any rate, I think it's very horrid in you to shut me up here. You might let me walk outside in the woods. I'm so _aw_fully fond of the woods." Girasole smiled faintly. "And so you sall have plenty of de wood--but to-morra. You wait here now. All safe--oh yes--secura--all aright--oh yes--slip to-night, an' in de mornin' early you sall be mine. Dere sall come a priest, an' we sall have de ceremony." "Well, I think it was very unkind in you to bring me to such a horrid place. And how can I sit down? You _might_ have had a chair. And look at poor, darling Kitty. You may be unkind to me, but you needn't make _her_ sit on the floor. You never saved _her_ life, and you have no right to be unkind to her." "Unkind! Oh, mees!--my heart, my life, all arra youairs, an' I lay my life at youair foot." "I think it would be far more kind if you would put a chair at poor Kitty's feet," retorted Minnie, with some show of temper. "But, oh, carissima, tink--de wild wood--noting here--no, noting--not a chair--only de straw." "Then you had no business to bring me here. You might have known that there were no chairs here. I can't sit down on nothing. But I suppose you expect me to stand up. And if that isn't horrid, I don't know what is. I'm sure I don't know what poor dear papa would say if he were to see me now." [Illustration: "WHAT IS THIS FOR?"] "Do not grieve, carissima mia--do not, charming mees, decompose yourself. To-morra you sall go to a bettaire place, an' I will carra you to my castello. You sall haf every want, you sall enjoy every wis, you sall be happy." "But I don't see how I can be happy without a chair," reiterated Minnie, in whose mind this one grievance now became pre-eminent. "You talk as though you think I am made of stone or iron, and you think I can stand here all day or all night, and you want me to sleep on that horrid straw and those horrid furry things. I suppose this is the castle that you speak of; and I'm sure I wonder why you _ever_ thought of bringing me here. I suppose it doesn't make so much difference about a _carpet_; but you will not even let me have a _chair_; and I think you're _very_ unkind." Girasole was in despair. He stood in thought for some time. He felt that Minnie's rebuke was deserved. If she had reproached him with waylaying her and carrying her off, he could have borne it, and could have found a reply. But such a charge as this was unanswerable. It certainly was very hard that she should not be able to sit down. But then how was it possible for him to find a chair in the woods? It was an insoluble problem. How in the world could he satisfy her?