"That lady!" repeated the old woman, "what lady, my _blessed_ Signor Lelio?" "What trick are you trying to play on me, you old fool? Didn't I see a lady dressed in black come in, and didn't she ask to speak to me?" "No, as I believe in baptism, Signor Lelio. The lady asked for Signora Checchina, and didn't mention your name. She put this half-sequin in my hand and bade me keep her presence a secret _from the other people in the house_. That's just what she said." "Did you see the lady, Cattina?" "I saw her dress and her veil, and a great lock of black hair that had got loose and fell on a beautiful hand, and two great eyes that shone behind the lace like two lamps behind a curtain." "Where did you put her?" "In Signora Checchina's small salon, while the signora is dressing to receive her." "Very well, Cattina; keep your mouth shut, since she bade you." I was uncertain whether it was Alezia who had come to confide in Checchina. If so, it was my duty to prevent her, at any price, from remaining in that house, where every instant of her stay might contribute to the ruin of her reputation; but if it were not she, what right had I to go and question a person who, doubtless, had some very serious motive for concealing her actions in this way? I had been unable from my window to judge of the height of that veiled woman, because our respective positions were such that I could see only the top of her head. I had scrutinized the groom as he led the horses to a clump of trees which his mistress pointed out to him. I had never seen his face before; but that was no reason why he might not belong to the Grimani establishment, for I certainly had not seen all the servants. I disliked extremely to question him and try to bribe him. I determined to go to Checchina; I knew what a length of time she required to make the simplest toilet. She could not have joined her visitor as yet, and I could reach her bedroom without passing through the small salon. I knew the secret passage which connected Nasi's apartments with his mistress's, the villa of Cafaggiolo being a genuine _petite maison_, built according to the French style of the 18th century. I found Checchina half-dressed, and making ready with queenly indifference for this early morning audience. "What does this mean?" she cried, as I entered by way of her alcove. "Just a word, Checchina," I said in her ear. "Send away your maid." "Make haste," she said when we were alone, "for there is someone waiting for me." "I know it, and that is what I came to speak to you about. Do you know this woman who has requested an interview with you?"