"Neither!" cried Mila, raising her head. "I call God to witness!" "God!" repeated the monk, in a despairing tone. "How you pain me by speaking so, Mila! Can you be capable of swearing a false oath?" "No, uncle, no, never!" "Lie to your uncle, if it seems best to you, but do not lie to God!" "Am I in the habit of lying, I ask you, then?" exclaimed the girl, proudly; "and ought I to be suspected by my uncle, the man who knows me so well, and for whose esteem I care more than for my life?" "In that case, speak!" rejoined Fra Angelo, grasping her wrist in a way which he considered encouraging and paternal, but which bruised the child's arm and extorted a cry of terror from her.--"Why this fright, pray?" demanded the monk, in amazement. "Ah! you are guilty, girl. You have just done--not anything sinful, I cannot believe that--but some foolish thing or other, which is the first step on the pathway of evil. If it were not so, you would not recoil from me in terror; you would not have tried to hide your face when we met; above all things, you would not have tried to lie! And now, as it is impossible for you to have any innocent secret from me, you should not refuse to explain your actions." "But I tell you, uncle, that it is an entirely innocent secret, and still it is impossible for me to tell you what it is. Do not ask me any more questions. I would die before I would speak." "At all events, Mila, promise me that you will tell your father this secret which I may not know!" "I cannot promise you that; but I swear that I will tell it to Princess Agatha." "I have the greatest esteem and veneration for Princess Agatha," replied the monk, "but I know that women are excessively indulgent to one another in the matter of certain errors of conduct, and that virtuous women are the more tolerant because of their ignorance of evil. I do not, therefore, like the idea of your seeking shelter against shame on your friend's bosom, instead of explaining your conduct to your family, with head erect. Go, Mila; I insist no farther, since you have withdrawn your confidence from me; but I pity you because your heart is not pure and calm this evening as it was this morning. I pity my brother, whose pride and joy you were; I pity your brother, who will soon have to answer for your conduct before the world, I doubt not, and who will have plenty of trouble on his hands unless he chooses to allow you to be insulted on his arm. Woe, woe to the men of a family, when the women, who should watch over its honor as the Vestals watched over the sacred fire, break the laws of prudence, modesty and truth!" Fra Angelo passed on, leaving poor Mila, crushed by this malediction, kneeling on the stones in the road, with bloodless cheeks and her bosom heaving with sobs.