"I can tell you a secret that will soon be a matter of public notoriety," said the Commendatore. "And that is that you 've clean gone out of your senses."
"The lady he is engaged to in England," said Susanna, "guess who she is. I give it to you in a million."
"How the devil can I guess who she is?" said the Commendatore.
"Well, then, listen," said Susanna. "You must n't faint, or explode, or anything—but the lady he's engaged to in England is your old friend—that bold adventuress, that knightess errant—the widow Torrebianca."
"Domeniddio!" gasped the Commendatore, falling back in his chair.
And I half think he would have pulled his moustaches out by their roots if Susanna had n't interceded with him to spare them.
"Don't—don't," she pleaded. "You won't have any left."
"Domeniddio!" he gasped three separate times, on three separate notes.
"If you're surprised," said Susanna, "think how much more surprised he will be."
"Do-men-id-dio!" said the Commendatore, in a whisper.