Her voice was firm and clear, for the die was cast. When she had spoken, she turned from them both towards the fireplace, and hid her face in her hands. If he could act his madness out, she, at least, would still be free and alive. Veronica stood still a moment longer, looking back.
"That is the other piece," said Macomer, thoughtfully. "Pulcinella does not go mad in this one. The man has forgotten the parts. It is a pity—it was so amusing."
There was silence for a moment. Matilde did not look round.
"I think he will recover," said Veronica. "But I am glad you have told the truth. I promise that you shall be safe."
In a moment she was gone.
"Just so," said Macomer, speaking to himself. "He forgot the words of the piece, and so he made it end rather abruptly. Let us go home, Matilde, since it is over."
"It is of no use to go on acting insanity before me," answered Matilde, with a bitter sigh, as she raised her face from her hands and moved away from the fireplace, not looking at him.
"That is the reason why Pulcinella's wife disappeared so suddenly," he replied. "You see, there are two pieces which the marionettes act. In the one which begins with the quarrel—"
"I tell you it is of no use to do that!" cried Matilde, angrily, and beginning to walk up and down the room, still keeping her eyes from the face she hated.
"How nervous you are!" he exclaimed, with irritation. "I was only trying to explain—"