Suddenly Mila formed a firm resolution; for, as Magnani had truly said, she was superior to most of the young girls of her class in education, and Pier-Angelo had cultivated in her mind ideas as noble as his own. She had, in addition, a tincture of youthful enthusiasm, blended with the habit of courage and self-sacrifice, which her good taste and ingenuousness led her to conceal beneath apparent heedlessness. It is the acme of stoicism to be able to sacrifice oneself with a smile on one's face, and with no outward indication of suffering. "My dear Magnani," she said, rising with her accustomed serenity of expression, "I thank you for your friendly interest in me; you have done me good, and I feel perfectly calm. Let me work now, for I didn't do my _day's work_ in the night, as you did; I must do my stint and earn my wages. Go away, so that people may not say that I am lazy, and that I waste my time chattering with the neighbors." "Good-bye, Mila," replied the young man. "I pray God to restore your peace of mind to-day, and to make you happy all the days of your life." "Thanks, Magnani," said Mila, offering him her hand. "I rely upon your friendship from this day." The air of noble resolution with which that girl, so crushed by grief a moment before, offered him her hand, and the tone in which she pronounced the word friendship, like an heroic farewell to all her illusions, were not understood by Magnani; and yet there was in that gesture and that tone something that moved him deeply, although he could not guess the cause. Mila was transformed before him in the twinkling of an eye; she no longer seemed a charming child, she was serious and beautiful as a woman. He took that little hand in his hard and powerful one, which did not hesitate to seal the friendly compact by a fraternal grasp, but which trembled suddenly at the touch of a hand as soft and dainty as a princess's; for Mila was very careful of her person, and knew how to be at once industrious and refined in her occupations. Magnani fancied that he held Agatha's hand, which, by a strange caprice of fortune, he had touched once in his life. He felt a sudden wave of emotion, and drew Pier-Angelo's daughter to his heart as if to give her a brotherly kiss. He dared not do it; but she offered her forehead innocently, saying to herself that it would be the first and the last, and that she would cherish its memory as the symbol of an everlasting farewell to all her hopes.