"But tell me one thing——"
"Just wait a moment. I should add that now they have been married by religious ceremony—in prison! Yes, my dear, in prison; fancy what a horrid thing that was! Now don't begin crying again, Giovanna; if you do, I'll throw this salt-cellar at your head. There she is, the goose! Every one told her not to do it. 'Don't be married now,' they said. 'If he's found guilty and sentenced, you can marry some one else!'"
"How contemptible!" began the young woman, with flashing eyes, but the mother merely turned a cold, penetrating look upon her, and she broke off at once.
"Did I say so?" demanded the other. "No, it was other people, and they said it for your own good."
"For my good, for my good," moaned Giovanna, burying her face in her hands; "there is no more good for me, ever again, ever again!"
"Have you children?" asked Paolo.
"Yes, one, a boy. If it were not for him—alas, alas! if Costantino is sentenced, and there were no child—then, oh, misery, misery——!" And she seized her hair by the roots, and began to drag her head violently from side to side, like an insane person.
"You mean that you would kill yourself, my beloved?" asked Aunt Bachissia ironically.
To the student there was something artificial in the action; it reminded him of a famous actress whom he had once seen in a French comedy, and this open display of grief only aroused his cynicism.
"After all," said he, "the new divorce law has been approved, and any woman whose husband is serving a sentence can regain her freedom."