Mila consented to make peace and to kiss her brother; but she continued to be somewhat downcast, and her lovely cheeks were tinged with a less delicate flush than usual. "You chose a bad time to tease me," she said. "There are days when one does not feel in the mood to endure raillery, and I thought that you were teasing me on purpose to make sport of my disappointment." "Your disappointment, Mila!" cried Michel, pressing her to his heart with a smile. "Have you been disappointed? Because you didn't see the ball last night, I suppose? Oh! you are a very unfortunate little girl, and no mistake!" "In the first place, Michel, I am not a little girl. I shall soon be fifteen, and I am old enough to have disappointments. As for the ball, I cared very little about it; and now that it's over, I don't think about it at all." "What is this great sorrow, then? Do you want a new dress?" "No." "Your nightingale isn't dead?" "Don't you hear him singing?" "Perhaps our neighbor Magnani's big tom-cat has eaten up your turtle-dove?" "I would like to see him try it! I tell you that I don't bother my head about Signor Magnani or his cat." The tone in which she uttered Magnani's name made Michel prick up his ears, and, upon glancing at his little sister's face, he saw that she had her eyes fixed, not upon her work--although her head was bent--but upon a wooden gallery where Magnani usually worked, opposite Mila's chamber. At that moment Magnani was walking along his gallery. He did not look at Mila's window, and Mila did not look at her work. "Mila, my darling child," said Michel, taking both her hands and kissing them, "do you see that young man with the absent-minded air?" "Well," Mila replied, as the blood came and went in her cheeks, "what about him?" "I want to tell you, my child, that if your heart is ever inclined to love, you must not think of that young man." "What nonsense!" said the girl, shaking her head and trying hard to laugh. "He is the last man of whom I should ever think, I tell you that!" "Then you will be exceedingly wise," rejoined Michel, "for Magnani's heart is not free; he has long been in love with another woman." "That doesn't concern me, and is of no possible interest to me," said Mila; and, bending over her work, she turned her wheel swiftly. But Michel was pained to see two great tears fall upon her skein of silk. Michel's heart was very tender. He understood the feeling of shame by which his young sister was overwhelmed, and which added a fresh pang to those from which he himself was suffering. He saw the superhuman efforts that the poor child made to stifle her sobs and overcome her confusion. He felt that that was not the moment to humiliate her more by insisting upon an explanation. So he pretended to see nothing; and, thinking that he would reason with her when she was more self-possessed, he left the room where she was working.