"Oh!" she exclaimed, in accents of tragedy, "these maids, now-a-days, know nothing of their business! They have no heads. Forgive me, my dearest child——"
"What on earth has happened?" asked Antonio, half undressed.
"She hasn't turned down the bed!" cried the poor lady, attacking the pillows with her fat and trembling arms.
She fussed about, altered all the blankets, tidied the dressing-table, examined the jugs. Regina was waiting to undress; but as the old lady would not go away, she leaned back in the arm-chair, her eyes still closed, her hands folded in her lap. She listened to her mother-in-law's uncertain step and panting breath; and she thought with anguish of to-morrow.
"And the morrow of that, and the next day, and for ever and ever, I shall have to put up with these people! It's awful!"
"Where are your things?" asked Antonio, in his pyjamas.
Regina opened her eyes, got up hastily, and searched her portmanteau. Lo! behind her the heavy panting of the old lady!
"Let me, dear child! You go and undress. I'll find everything for you."
"No, no!" said Regina, vexed, "I'll do it myself."