When Mila descended the staircase cut in the rock, she saw a man sitting on the edge of the spring, but was not alarmed. Her heart was all full of love and hope, and the recollection of the dangers that threatened her was powerless to affect her. Even when she reached the brink of the spring, this man, whose back was turned to her, and whose head and body were enveloped in the long hooded cape which the common people wear,[8] did not arouse her suspicions; but when he turned and asked her in a soft voice if she would permit him to drink from her jug, she started; for it seemed to her that she recognized the voice, and she noticed that there was no one in sight, either above or below the fountain; that not a child was playing on the staircase as usual, in fact, that she was alone with this stranger, whose voice terrified her. She pretended not to have heard him, hastily filled her jug, and prepared to go up again. But the stranger, reclining on the stones, either to bar her way or perhaps to rest more comfortably, said to her in the same caressing tone: "Rebecca, will you refuse a drop of water to Jacob, the friend and servant of the family?" "I do not know you," replied Mila, trying to assume a calm and indifferent tone. "Can you not put your lips to the cascade? You can drink from it much better than from a jug." The stranger calmly passed his arms around Mila's legs, and compelled her to lean on his shoulder to avoid falling. "Let me go," she said, terrified and angry, "or I will call for help. I have no time to jest with you, and I am not one of those who dally with every strange man they see. Let me go, I tell you, or I will shriek." "Mila," said the unknown, throwing back his hood, "I am no stranger to you, although it is not long since we became acquainted. We have relations together which it is not in your power to break off, and which it is your duty not to refuse to recognize. The life, fortune, and honor of those who are dearest to you on earth rest on my zeal and my loyalty. I have something to say to you; give me your jug, so that if anyone is watching it will not seem unnatural that you should have stopped here a moment with me." On recognizing the mysterious guest of the previous night, Mila was subjugated as it were by a sort of dread not unmingled with respect. For we must tell the whole truth: Mila was a woman, and the Piccinino's beauty, his youth, his expression and his soft voice did not fail to exert a secret influence upon her sensitive and slightly romantic instincts. "My lord," she said to him, for it was impossible not to take him for a nobleman in disguise, "I will obey you; but do not detain me by force, and speak more quickly, for this situation is not without danger to us both."