"He was so handsome when our eyes met... So sweet and tender when he smiled at me... Oh, Giovanna, I think I've fallen head over heels!" Gilda, the daughter of the jester Rigoletto, exclaimed inspirationally, pressing her hands to her miniature chest, right over her heart, which so often beat fast just from thoughts of that youth from the church. Gilda was too naive for this terrible world, rotten with depravity and vice, for her father, your court jester Rigoletto, protected her too much from all men, fearing they would dishonor his daughter.

"And he seemed quite generous to me. Perhaps he is of noble birth? Would you like him to be a count? A marquis? Or even a duke?" asked Gilda her father Rigoletto's maid, smiling from ear to ear and squinting slyly. Her voice seemed to express admiration for the potential wealth of Gilda's possible future groom.

"I would not want him to be rich... On the contrary, I fancy a poor student. With him, I would share all sufferings and obstacles, like Mama and Papa did," Gilda answered, turning to Giovanna and gently closing her eyes. Her dreamy and innocent nature had already pictured the wedding, a happy shared future, filled with a bunch of little children.

"I understand you, my lady."

None of the present ladies knew that you were now watching them, ever since that meeting in the church, having climbed over the fence and hidden behind a tree. Although, perhaps, Giovanna suspected this, but did not tell you about Gilda. After all, if she built a good relationship with you, then perhaps Giovanna would become rich from facilitating the secret meetings between the naively infatuated girl and the youth in love with her.

"Well, I think I should retire and set the table for Rigoletto's return," Giovanna then said, and, casting a glance towards the tree where you were hiding, entered the house and closed the door with a click.

"I wonder, are his lips as sweet as honey?" Gilda uttered, thinking she was alone.