“Why then were you so silent in praise of this phoenix of Madrid? Why was it concealed from me that his society had afforded you pleasure?”

“In truth, I know not: you ask me a question which I cannot resolve myself. I was on the point of mentioning him a thousand times: his name was constantly upon my lips, but when I would have pronounced it, I wanted courage to execute my design. However, if I did not speak of him, it was not that I thought of him the less.”

“That I believe; but shall I tell you why you wanted courage? It was because, accustomed to confide to me your most secret thoughts, you knew not how to conceal, yet feared to acknowledge, that your heart nourished a sentiment which you were conscious I should disapprove. Come hither to me, my child.”

Antonia quitted her embroidery frame, threw herself upon her knees by the sofa, and hid her face in her mother’s lap.