But Michel was unable to form the faintest idea of it, and he was on the rack. He ceased to listen to the marquis; he was much more inclined to tease and contradict Mila. He laughed at her costume and picked flaws in it under his breath, and almost made her cry; so that she finally whispered to him: "Michel, you always were jealous, and you are jealous at this moment." "Jealous of what, pray?" he retorted bitterly; "of your pink dress and your pearl necklace?" "No," she said, "but of the princess's friendship for your friend and her confidence in him. Oh! I remember how you used to sulk when we were children, if mamma kissed me more than you." When the princess and Magnani joined them again, Agatha seemed calm and Magnani deeply moved. But his noble face was even graver than usual, and Michel noticed that his manner had undergone a remarkable change. He no longer seemed to be at all confused by Agatha's presence. When she spoke to him, the reply no longer trembled on his lips; he no longer turned his eyes away in dismay, and, instead of the terrible suffering he had previously displayed, he was calm, attentive and thoughtful. They talked a few moments longer, then the princess turned to go. The marquis offered his carriage. She declined it. "I prefer to walk back through the gardens as I came," she said; "and, as I must have an escort, although we no longer have any enemies to fear, I will take Michelangelo's arm--unless he refuses!"--she added, with a quiet smile, observing the young man's confusion. Michel could find no words for a reply; he bowed and offered her his arm. An hour earlier he would have been beside himself with joy. Now it wounded his pride to receive in public a favor which Magnani had received privately and as it were in secret. Pier-Angelo took his leave with his daughter, to whom Magnani did not offer his arm. So much ceremonious courtesy was not in his line. He affected to be ignorant of the rules of politeness because he detested imitation, but in reality his manners were always gentle and amiable. After a few steps he found himself so near Mila that he naturally took her round elbow in his hand to guide her through the narrow lanes of the suburb, and walked with her, supporting her thus, to her door. Michel had started off encased in his pride as in a cuirass, mentally accusing the princess of caprice and coquetry, and firmly resolved not to allow himself to be dazzled by her advances. And yet he confessed to himself that he was entirely unable to understand the irritation that he felt. He was forced to say to himself that she was immeasurably kind, and that if she was, in fact, indebted to old Pier-Angelo, she paid her debt with all the treasures of delicacy and refinement which a woman's heart can contain.