I am Quartilla’s handmaid: Quartilla, whose rites you interrupted in the shrine. She has come to the inn, in person, and begs permission to speak with you. Don’t be alarmed! She neither blames your mistake nor does she demand punishment; on the contrary, she wonders what god has brought such wellbred young gentlemen into her neighborhood!”
CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH. We were still holding our tongues and refraining from any expression of opinion, when the lady herself entered the room, attended by a little girl. Seating herself upon the bed, she wept for a long time. Not even then did we interject a single word, but waited, all attention, for what was to follow these well ordered tears and this show of grief. When the diplomatic thunderstorm had passed over, she withdrew her haughty head from her mantle and, ringing her hands until the joints cracked, “What is the meaning of such
