They stood outside, he holding her hand and looking up into her face with worshipful eyes. Suddenly she drew back, and without a parting word took herself off. A face that she had seen in a near-by doorway made her eager to end the interview. She had gone but a few paces when Bertino was by her side.
“So you are here, and putting horns on your husband?” he said, gripping her arm. “Welcome, signora, welcome!” A smile of hellish mockery played on his livid face.
“No, I am not,” she pleaded, a tremor in her voice, because she knew her race.
He laughed, and gripped her arm tighter.
“I know,” he said. “You want a rich man.” Then, with his lips close to her ear: “Do you think you will live?”
“It is not my fault,” she said, still pleading. “What can a woman do when a man plays the fool and annoys her?”
“He annoys you?”
“Yes,” she answered, seizing her chance. “If you were a man you would make him leave me alone. I do not want him.”
“I will kill the dog!” said Bertino, letting go of her arm. A moment he regarded her with the old tenderness, but a black look settled again on his face, and he asked slowly, “Why did you not let me know you were back?”
“I have not been in the city an hour. The shop was closed. Luigia the Garlic Woman will tell you that I asked her if she knew where you had gone. I was going to send a note to Casa Di Bello. We met in the street and—he annoyed me.” She thought now only of saving herself.