Costanza's hand; and
she, with great eagerness, and no less devotion, went with it into a
room, where she shut herself up alone. Then, opening the paper, she read
as follows:--

"Lady of my soul, I am a gentleman of Burgos; and if I survive my
father, I shall inherit a property of six thousand ducats yearly income.
Upon the fame of your beauty, which spreads far and wide, I left my
native place, changed my dress, and came in the garb in which you see
me, to serve your master. If you would consent to be mine in the way
most accordant with your virtue, put me to any proof you please, to
convince you of my truth and sincerity; and when you have fully
satisfied yourself in this respect, I will, if you consent, become your
husband, and the happiest of men. For the present, I only entreat you
not to turn such loving and guileless feelings as mine into the street;
for if your master, who has no conception of them, should come to know
my aspirations, he would condemn me to exile from your presence, and
that would be the same thing as sentencing me to death. Suffer me,
senora, to see you until you believe me, considering that he does not
deserve the rigorous punishment of being deprived of the sight of you,
whose only fault has been that he adores you. You can reply to me with
your eyes, unperceived by any of the numbers who are always gazing upon
you; for your eyes are such that their anger kills, but their compassion
gives new life."

When Tomas saw that Costanza had gone away to read his letter, he
remained with a palpitating heart, fearing and hoping either his
death-doom, or the one look that should bid him live. Presently Costanza
returned, looking so beautiful in spite of her muffling, that if any
extraneous cause could have heightened her loveliness, it might be
supposed that her surprise at finding the contents of the paper so
widely different from what she had expected, had produced that effect.
In her hand she held the paper torn into small pieces, and returning,
the fragments to Tomas, whose legs could hardly bear him up, "Brother
Tomas," she said, "this prayer of yours seems to me to savour more of
witchcraft and delusion than of piety, therefore I do not choose to put
faith in it or to use it, and I have torn it up that it may not be seen
by any one more credulous than myself. Learn other prayers, for it is
impossible that this one can ever do you any good."

So saying, she returned to her mistress's room, leav