"Compromising?" Miss Tita repeated as if she was ignorant of the meaning
of the word. I felt almost as one who corrupts the innocence of youth.

"I mean their containing painful memories."

"Oh, I don't think they are painful."

"You mean you don't think they affect her reputation?"

At this a singular look came into the face of Miss
Bordereau's niece--a kind of confession of helplessness,
an appeal to me to deal fairly, generously with her.
I had brought her to the Piazza, placed her among charming
influences, paid her an attention she appreciated, and now I
seemed to let her perceive that all this had been a bribe--
a bribe to make her turn in some way against her aunt.
She was of a yielding nature and capable of doing almost anything
to please a person who was kind to her; but the greatest
kindness of all would be not to presume too much on this.
It was strange enough, as I afterward thought, that she
had not the least air of resenting my want of consideration
for her aunt's character, which would have been in the worst
possible taste if anything less vital (from my point of view)
had been at stake. I don't think she really measured it.
"Do you mean that she did something bad?" she asked in a moment.

"Heaven forbid I should say so, and it's none of my business.
Besides, if she did," I added, laughing, "it was in other ages,
in another world. But why should she not destroy her papers?"