"She never comes into my room after I have wished her good-night," said Bianca, "and you must not go yet, Concetta--at least, not before I have given you a letter which you will take back to Monsignor Lelli--Don Agostino--for me. You will do that, will you not?"
"_Altro_! But, _eccellenza_, do not be long writing your letter. If I were to be found here--well--" and Concetta shrugged her shoulders significantly.
Bianca suddenly looked round the room in despair. "_Madonna mia!_" she exclaimed, "I have nothing to write with--no ink or paper--only a little pencil."
"The pencil must serve for this time, _signorina_," said Concetta. "To-morrow you can bring some writing-materials here and hide them in the passage outside, for I will show you how to work the spring. Anything you place in the passage is as if Domeneddio had it in his own pocket. But for to-night write a few words on the blank half-sheet of that letter you have, and early to-morrow morning I will give it myself to Don Agostino."
Bianca looked at her doubtfully. She was loath to part with even a scrap of paper that had come from Silvio. But time pressed, and if she did not return an immediate reply to his missive, Silvio would think it had been intercepted. She sat down and wrote a few lines hurriedly, and, folding up her half-sheet of paper, confided it to Concetta's keeping.
"You will tell Don Agostino that I shall send another letter to-morrow by you," she said, "and you will thank him for all he is doing, Concetta, from me. And tell him also that I shall write to him myself, because--"
She hesitated for a moment, then, drawing herself up, she looked Concetta full in the face. "Because my future husband wishes me to do so," she concluded, quietly.
Concetta Fontana took her hand, and, raising it to her lips, kissed it. "I will go to Don Agostino at seven o'clock this morning, before he says his mass, and I will give him the letter. Ah, _signorina_, if the Signorino Rossano is Don Agostino's friend, it is proof enough that, speaking with respect, you have chosen your husband wisely. _Sicuro_! Don Agostino is a good man. There are many at Montefiano who distrust the priests; but there is nobody who does not trust Don Agostino. It is I, Concetta, who say it to you--and I know. But look, _signorina_, the dawn will soon be here. Let me go now--for who knows that her excellency might not awake. You will not be frightened if you see the picture move again? It will only be Concetta looking into the room to make sure that you are alone."