ainst the morning light. Her windows stood open, her bed
was protected from winged intruders by a veil of white netting gathered
at the top into the great overshadowing coronet.

She was in the fine midst of those sweetest slumbers that come after a
pearly wash of dawn has cleaned sky and hilltops from the last
smoke-stain of the night, when a sense of some one else in the room
startled her awake. There stood near the door of her dressing-room an
unknown female, wearing intricate gold ear-pendants and a dingy cotton
dress without any collar.

"_Chi e voi?_" inquired Aurora, lifting her head.

"I am the Ildegonda," answered the woman, whose smile and everything
about her apologized, and deprecated displeasure. She must be the
kitchen-maid, fancied Aurora, engaged by Clotilde, and not supposed to
show her nose above the subterranean province of the kitchen.

"There is the _signorino_ down in the garden," Ildegonda acquitted
herself of the charge laid upon her by the donor of the silver franc
still rejoicing her folded fingers, "who says if you will have the
amiability to place yourself one moment at the window he would desire to
say a word to you."

The _signorino_. That had become the informal title by which the
servants announced a guest who was let in so very frequently. Aurora
understood _finestra_, window, and _dire una parola_, to say a
word, and then that the signorino was _giu in giardino_.

"All right." Aurora nodded to the Ildegonda, inviting her by a motion of
the hand to go away again.

Aurora rose and softly closed the door which, when open, made an avenue
for sound from her room to Estelle's. She slipped her arms into a
sky-blue dressing-gown, and with a heart spilling over with playful joy,
eyes spilling over with childish laughter, went to look out of the
window, the one farthest from Estelle's side of the house.

"Good morning! Good morning!" came on the instant from the waiting,
upturned face below. "Forgive me for rousing you so early," was said in
a voice subdued so as to reach, if possible, no other ears, "but you
promised you would go with me one day to Vallombrosa, and one has to
start early, for it is far. Will you come?"

"Will I come? Will I come? Wait and see! Got your horses and carriage?"

"Standing at the gate. How long will it take you to get ready?"

"Oh, I'll hurry like anything."

"'Wash, dress, be brief in praying.
Few beads are best when once we go a Maying.'"

"