"Come, Gregorio," she said, "you are ill. Come to your room—you must not stay here."
"I am sorry you do not like the marionettes," he said gravely. "They always amuse me. Stay a little longer."
Veronica supposed that he was ill from the effects of the poisoning and that he was in some sort of delirium. But she did not pity him, and was relentless. She moved nearer to her aunt.
"Answer me!" she said sternly. "This is the last time. If you deny the truth now, I will go to the chief of police at once."
"Oh! poor old Pulcinella!" cried Macomer, laughing gently. "How she gives it to him!"
Matilde was almost distracted.
"You will be arrested at once," said Veronica, pitilessly.
"Never mind, Pulcinella!" exclaimed Macomer. "Courage, my friend! You know you always get away from the policeman! Ha! ha! ha!"
Matilde saw Veronica moving to go to the door. She straightened herself and pointed to her husband.
"Yes," she said. "He did it—and he is mad."