"Don't interrupt me. I tell you she is a woman, and so of course she must be delicate. Can you not understand common sense? As for the boy, he is my grandson, and if you are not old enough to know how to take care of him, I am. He shall not go. I will not permit it. You are talking nonsense. Go and dress for dinner, or send for the doctor—in short, behave like a human being! I will go and see Corona myself."
The old gentleman's hasty temper was already up, and he strode to the door. Giovanni laid his hand somewhat heavily upon his father's arm.
"Excuse me," he said, "Corona cannot see you now. She is dressing."
"I will talk to her through the door. I will wait in her boudoir till she can see me."
"I do not think she will see you this evening. She will be busy in getting ready for the journey."
"She will dine with us, I suppose?"
"I scarcely know—I am not sure."
Old Saracinesca suddenly turned upon his son. His gray hair bristled on his head, and his black eyes flashed. With a quick movement he seized Giovanni's arms and held him before him as in a vice.
"Look here!" he cried savagely. "I will not be made a fool of by a boy. Something has happened which you are afraid to tell me. Answer me. I mean to know!"
"You will not know from me," replied Sant' Ilario, keeping his temper as he generally did in the face of a struggle. "You will know nothing, because there is nothing to know." Saracinesca laughed.