"How nervous you are!" he exclaimed, with irritation. "I was only trying
to explain--"
"Oh, I know! I know! Keep this acting for the doctors! You will drive me
really mad!"
"The doctors?" He stared at her and smiled childishly. "Oh no!" he
exclaimed. "The doctor is in the other piece--I was going to explain--"
She turned with a fierce exclamation upon him and grasped his arm,
shaking him savagely, as though to rouse him. To her horror, he burst
into tears.
"You hurt!" he whined. "You hurt me! Oh, poor little Gregorio!"
He was really mad, and there was no more acting for him, as the tears
streamed down his vacant face, which no longer twitched at all.
His mind had broken down under Veronica's relentless accusation and
threat of vengeance.
The miserable woman's strength was all but gone, when she sat down,
alone in the room with her mad husband, and once more buried her face in
her hands.
He whined and cried a little while to himself, and rubbed his arm where
she had taken hold so roughly; but presently his tears dried again, and
he leaned over the end of the couch on his elbow, and above her bowed,
veiled head he crooked his fingers at each other, and made his hands nod
and bob to each other, like little dolls, laughing gently, with a
chuckle now and then, at the funny things he heard Pulcinella saying to
his wife.
That was the end of the attempt to murder Veronica Serra, and that was
the end of the old life at the Palazzo Macomer.
Pages:
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292