Suddenly Magnani was roused from his contemplation by a sound which startled him. Somebody was weeping in the adjoining room. He heard sobs, stifled but heart-rending, behind the partition, not far from the door between the two rooms. Magnani was well aware that Mila lived on that floor. He had often nodded to her smilingly from his gallery, when he saw her, blooming with youth and beauty, at her window. But, as she had made no impression on his heart, and as he had never spoken to her except as to a child, he did not consider at that moment the exact location of her attic, nor indeed did he think of her at all. To be sure there was nothing masculine in her manner of weeping, but in Michel's voice there were some tones so youthful and so soft that it might well be he who was mourning so. Magnani thought only of his young comrade, and, full of solicitude for him, hastily opened the door and entered Mila's room. At sight of him the girl uttered a loud shriek and fled to the farthest corner of her room, hiding her face. "Mila, my dear little neighbor," cried honest Magnani, standing respectfully near the door, "forgive me, do not be afraid of me; I made a mistake, I heard someone weeping as if his heart would break, and I thought it was your brother. I didn't stop to think, but rushed in here, in my anxiety--but, great heaven, my dear child, why are you weeping so?" "I am not weeping," replied Mila, stealthily wiping her eyes, and pretending to look for something in an old chest of drawers against the wall; "you are entirely mistaken. I thank you, Signor Magnani; but leave me, you ought not to come into my room like this." "True, true, I know it, I am going away, Mila; and yet I don't dare to leave you thus, you are too much overcome, I can see. I am afraid you are sick. Let me go and wake your father, so that he can come and comfort you." "No, no! do not think of it! I don't want you to wake him!" "But, my dear ----" "No, I tell you, Magnani; you would make me much worse if you should cause my father that trouble." "But what is the matter, Mila? Your father has not been scolding you, has he? You never deserve to be scolded! And he is so kind, so gentle, he loves you so dearly!" "Oh! no, indeed, he never said a word to me except words of love and kindness. You see that you are dreaming, Magnani; I have no sorrow, I was not weeping." "Why, I can see from here that your face is swollen and your eyes red, my dear girl. What heart-breaking grief can one have at your age, lovely, and beloved by all, as you are?" "Don't laugh at me, I beg you," said Mila, proudly. But she turned pale, and trying to sit down calmly, fell sobbing upon her chair.