How did it happen that this girl, who had just seen such strange and distressing things, a queen's boudoir in the house of a peasant, and the ghastly scene of Abbé Ninfo's lethargy, no longer remembered what must have impressed her imagination so profoundly? Her surprise and her fright had vanished like a dream, and her mind was engrossed by the final tableau, fresh and unsullied, where she saw naught but flowers, greenswards, birds chattering among the leaves, and a handsome young man who guided her through that enchanted labyrinth, conversing with her in chaste and charming language. When Mila had passed the _Destatore's_ cross, she dismounted, as Carmelo had advised her to do, as a measure of prudence. She fastened the reins to the saddle-bow and waved a switch about Bianca's ears. The intelligent beast started back at a gallop toward Nicolosi, needing no guidance to return to her stable. Mila continued her journey on foot, avoiding the neighborhood of Bel-Passo; but, by a veritable fatality, Fra Angelo happened to be returning just then from the Della Serra palace to his convent by a by-path, so that Mila suddenly found herself face to face with him. The poor girl drew her _mantellina_ about her and began to walk very fast, as if she had not seen her uncle. "Where have you been, Mila?" was the greeting which brought her to a standstill, uttered as it was in a tone which admitted of no hesitation. "Why! uncle," she replied, putting aside her veil, "I didn't see you; the sun was in my eyes." "Where have you been?" repeated the monk, not deigning to discuss the probable truth of that reply. "Well, uncle," said Mila, resolutely, "I will not tell you a lie; I saw you plainly." "I know it; but will you tell me where you have been?" "I have been to the convent, uncle. I was looking for you, and, not finding you, I was going back to the city." "What was it that you were in such a hurry to say to me, my dear girl? It must be very important, for you to dare to come out into the country alone, contrary to your habit. Come, answer me! You say nothing! You cannot lie, Mila!" "Yes, uncle, yes! I came----" And she stopped short, completely at a loss, for she had made no preparations for this meeting, and her wits abandoned her. "You are losing your head, Mila," rejoined the monk, "for I tell you that you do not know how to lie, and you answer '_Yes!_' Thank heaven, you don't know what you are saying! Do not try to lie, my child, but tell me frankly where you have been." "Well, uncle, I cannot tell you." "Indeed!" cried Fra Angelo, with a frown. "I order you to tell me!" "It is impossible, dear uncle, impossible," said Mila, hanging her head, crimson with shame, and with her eyes filled with tears; for it was very painful to her to see her excellent uncle angry with her for the first time in her life. "Then you wish me to believe that you have been doing either an insane or a wicked thing!"