"Because you are a villain!" retorted Mrs. Verschoyle, bringing her fist down on the table.
"So!" said Matteo, with a laugh, "perhaps you will give me your reasons for calling me such a name?"
"The best of all possible reasons, you deserve it!"
"Indeed--the world is not of your opinion."
"Bah!--the world does not know you."
"Ah! so you are going to be Madame Asmodeus, and unroof my house for the benefit of my neighbours?" And Vassalla, having lighted a cigarette, sat down and prepared to listen. He had not long to wait, for Mrs. Verschoyle burst out into a perfect volley of imprecations in Italian, to which, Vassalla listened very quietly.
"You're not improving," he said coolly, when she stopped for want of breath; "but all this is talk. I want to know the reason of your visit."
Mrs. Verschoyle took off her gloves, sat down in a chair, and dragging it up to the table, placed her elbows thereon, and began to talk rapidly.
"You Maltese dog!" she hissed between her teeth; "I know all--yes, all--did I not meet Signor Clement at the Strada Cristoforo, and did he not tell me that you were as the shadow of my sister Carmelo, and that you wanted to become her husband? speak, you traitor--is it not true?"
"Before I answer that question," sad Vassalla, calmly, knocking the ash off his cigarette, "first tell me who is this Signor Clement, that knows so much of my affairs?"