At seven o'clock the next morning I was wandering slowly about in the shadow of the pillars of Santa Maria. That assignation was the very greatest piece of imprudence that my young signora could commit, for my face was as well known to most of the people of Florence as the ground under their horses' feet. So I took the most minute precautions, entering the city by the uncertain light of dawn, keeping out of sight in the chapels, with my face buried in my cloak, gliding along noiselessly, taking care not to disturb by the slightest sound the faithful at prayer, among whom I tried to discover the lady of my thoughts. I did not wait long; pretty Lila appeared from behind a pillar, and indicated by her glance an empty confessional, whose mysterious recess would hold two people. In the girl's quick and intelligent glance there was a touch of sadness which went to my heart. I knelt in the confessional, a few moments later, a dark shadow glided in and knelt beside me. Lila bent over a chair, between us and the congregation, who, luckily, were engrossed at that moment by the beginning of the mass, and falling noiselessly on their knees to the tones of the bell of the _introit_. The signora was enveloped in a long black veil, and she held it over her face with her hands for a few seconds. She did not speak to me, but bent her lovely head as if she had come to the church to pray; but, despite all her efforts to appear calm, I saw that her breast was heaving, and that, in the midst of her audacity, she was terror-stricken. I dared not encourage her with loving words, for I knew how quick she was at sarcastic repartee, and I could not be sure what tone she would take with me under those delicate circumstances. I realized simply this, that the more she exposed herself with me, the more respectful and submissive my attitude must be. With such a nature as hers, presumption would have been speedily repelled by scorn. At last I understood that I must break the silence, and I thanked her awkwardly enough for the favor of that meeting. My timidity seemed to restore her courage. She softly raised a corner of her veil, rested her arm with less constraint on the rail of the confessional, and said to me in a half-mocking, half-melting tone: "For what do you thank me, please?" "For relying upon my obedience, signora," I replied; "for not doubting the eagerness with which I would come to receive your orders." "I understand then," she retorted--and her tone was altogether jocular--"that your presence here is an act of pure obedience?" "I should not dare to take the liberty to have any thoughts concerning the present situation, except that I am your slave, and that, having a sovereign command to lay upon me, you bade me come and kneel here."