"Your appearance must inspire confidence in everybody," replied the singer, "and if I am kind to you, it is because you deserve it. Come, come; I am not inquisitive, I tell you; say what you have to say to Signor Lelio, it will not vex me in the slightest degree. Come, take her away, Lelio! Poor child! she thinks she is ruined. Nonsense, my dear, actors are just as honorable as other people, be sure of that." The girl made a low courtesy and followed me into the salon. Her heart was beating as if it would break the lacings of her green velvet waist, and her cheeks were as scarlet as her skirt. She hastily took the letter from her pocket and, after handing it to me, stepped back, she was so afraid that I would be as rude to her as I was before. I reassured her by the tranquillity of my demeanor, and asked her if she had anything more to say to me. "I am to wait for the answer," she replied, with an air of the most profound distress. "Very well," said I, "go and wait in the signora's apartment." And I escorted her back to Checchina. "This excellent girl," I explained, "wishes to enter the services of a lady in Florence whom I know very well, and she has come to me for a letter of recommendation. Will you allow her to stay with you while I go and write it?" "Yes, yes, to be sure!" replied Checchina, motioning her to sit down, and smiling at her with an amiable and patronizing air. This sweetness and simplicity of manner toward persons of her former station in life were among the Chioggian's excellent qualities. While she mimicked the affectations of the great lady, she retained the brusque and ingenuous kindliness of the fisherman's child. Her manners, though often ridiculous, were always affable; and if she did enjoy lying in state under a satin coverlet trimmed with lace, for the benefit of that poor village girl, she found none the less, in her heart and on her lips, affectionate words to encourage her in her humility. The signora's letter was in these words: "Three days without coming again! Either you have little wit, or you have little desire to see me again. Is it for me to find a way of continuing our friendly relations? If you have not tried to find one, you are a fool; if you have tried and failed, you are what you accuse me of being. To prove that I am neither _haughty_ nor _stupid_, I write to make an appointment with you. To-morrow, Sunday, morning I shall be at eight o'clock mass, at _Santa Maria del Sasso_, Florence. My aunt is ill; only Lila, my foster sister, will accompany me. If the footman or coachman notice you or question you, give them money; they are rascals. _Addio_, until to-morrow."