"You reptile, you accursed ruffian, you false, black-hearted, lying
son of Satan!"
She gasped for breath, and her whole frame quivered with fury, while
her livid lips twisted themselves to hiss out the epithets of abuse.
Volterra feared lest she should fall down in an apoplexy, and he rose
from his seat quickly. He gathered her to his corpulent side with one
arm and made her turn away towards the window, which he opened with
his free hand.
"I should be all that, and worse, if a tenth of what you believe were
true," Malipieri said, coming nearer and then standing still.
He was very pale, and he was conscious of a cowardly wish that
Volterra's revolver might have killed him ten minutes earlier. But he
was ashamed of the mere thought when he remembered what Sabina would
have to face. Volterra, while holding his wife firmly against the
window sill, to force her to breathe the outer air, turned his head
towards Malipieri.
"She is quite beside herself, you see," he said apologetically.
The Baroness was a strong woman, and after the first explosion of her
fury she regained enough self-control to speak connectedly. She turned
round, in spite of the pressure of her husband's arm.
"He is not even ashamed of what he has done!" she said. "He stands
there--"
The Baron interrupted her, fearing another outburst.
Pages:
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310