"You should be Messer Grifone, my Lord's secretary," she said, faltering.
"Alas, I have that misfortune," replied the youth, with averted eyes.
"Why, I know you very well," said Molly, "but see now that I have offended you. What is my injury, Signore? What have I done?"
"Madonna," said Grifone (but so low that no other could hear him), "believe me that the offence is none of your wilful making. It is, however, irremediable. Nothing but misfortune could overcome such misfortune as mine; and that I pray Heaven to keep far from you."
"Alack! good Grifone, what sayings are these for a day that should be happy?" urged the warm-hearted girl, with eyes ready to fill.
"Madonna, let me endure the thought of them alone, I entreat your Grace."
"Never, while I live, Grifone. You make me most unhappy. Will you not kiss me?"
"Never, while I live, Madonna, if I am to live honest."
Molly went white and red, and stood hesitating, uncertain whether to cry or be angry. Either might have been a vent for her distress, which was real. Commanding herself with pains—
"I will require you to speak with me after supper," she said, after a pause for the struggle.
Grifone bowed his head and backed away from her. She, being boundless in capacity for the affections of her kind, spent the interval with an aching heart.
Directly supper was done she hunted for the
