“Don Giovà, the Signora has gone.”
Don Giovanni, at this unexpected news, stood dumbfounded, and remained thus for a moment with his eyes bulging and his mouth wide open While gazing upward as if awaiting further explanations. Since Rosa stood silently at the top of the stairs, twisting an edge of her apron with her hands and dilly-dallying somewhat, he asked at length:
“But tell me why? But tell me why?” And he mounted several steps while he kept repeating with a slight stutter:
“But why? But why?”
“Don Giovà, what have I to tell you? Only that she has gone.”
“But why?”
“Don Giovà, I do not know, so there!”
And Rosa took several steps on the landing-place toward the door of the empty apartment. She was rather a thin woman, with reddish hair, and face liberally scattered with freckles. Her large, ash-coloured eyes had nevertheless a singular vitality. The excessive distance between her nose and mouth gave to the lower part of her face the appearance of a monkey.
Don Giovanni pushed open the partly closed door and passed through the first room, and then the third; he walked around the entire apartment with excited steps; he stopped at the little room, set aside for the bath. The silence almost terrified him; a heavy anxiety weighted down his heart.
“It can’t be true! It can’t be true!” he murmured, staring around confusedly.