You were just leaving Signor Selva's house." Don Clemente bent his head slightly.

Noemi had really hardly had a glimpse of him, but she had been struck by his beauty, and had reflected that if he were Signor Maironi she could understand Jeanne's passion.
Conscious of her fresh and youthful appearance, it never entered her head that her twenty-five years could be mistaken for Jeanne's thirty-two.

Jeanne, in the meantime, was wondering how she could turn her dilemma to the best account.
"You were not expected last night," said Don Clemente to Noemi.

"You come from the Veneto, I believe ?" "The Veneto ?" Noemi seemed surprised.
"The Selvas told me you lived in the Veneto," the Padre added.
Then Noemi understood.

She smiled, and murmured a monosyllable which was neither "yes" nor "no"; she also was determined to take advantage of her position, and, thanks to this misunderstanding, obtain a private interview with Don Clemente, and warn him if necessary.