"Signora," said the girl passionately, "the Padrone looks at me from under his eyebrows, in a way I don't like—I said I was not afraid but I am. I hate him, I can't breathe the same air with him, and before he does anything to me,—or before I go mad and kill him, it is better for me to go."
Ragna stroked the maid's hair absent-mindedly; the Venetian had been with her more than five years now; it would be hard to part with her, for she was entirely devoted to her mistress and the children, especially Mimmo, but it was clearly impossible to keep her longer. Ragna sighed.
"I am afraid you are right, Carolina. Yes, you must go, although you know how sorry I shall be to lose you. We will talk it over to-morrow, it is late now and I am tired. Run away to bed."
Carolina took her mistress's hand and pressed her lips fervently upon it.
"God bless you, Signora, and may you sleep well!" She closed the door silently after her.
Ragna sat on in her armchair, immersed in thought, bowed down by this new burden of vicarious shame, outraged and indignant. As the clock struck twelve she heard her husband's latchkey grate in the outer door and she straightened herself up with flushed cheeks. "I will have it out with him here and now," she thought.
"Egidio!" she called, as his step sounded in the passage.
He entered the room, an expression of annoyed surprise on his face, called forth by his finding her still up.
"Have you taken to sitting up for me?" he grunted.
"I have been waiting for you, there is something I must speak to you about."