"I am sorry. Forgive me, Peronella. I am confused. I cannot understand what has happened. You cannot give me up after all these months for some one you do not know at all. It is absurd. It could not be. It is fantastic. It is unreal."
"I did not know I had ever taken you," replied Peronella. "What have we ever done but go out for walks like friends?"
"But I was going to give up everything for you. Do not blast my youth."
"It has been blasted before, Cesano."
"Not like this time. I cannot sleep. Come, take away your arm, last of creatures. I cannot bear it. I will go mad. I will beat you. As for you, sir" (to Norman, in a deep bass), "I will deal with you after with cold steel!"
"Come, now," said Peronella, smoothly. "I am very sorry indeed. One cannot help the hand of Fate."
"Hand of Fate," said Cesano, in justifiable wrath. "It has driven many women to hell, that hand of Fate. Do you kiss a new man every week? Have you a price? Was I not honourable? Did we not talk of marriage? Did I not pick you coral from the sea—violets from the meadows?"
"Don't be poetic, Cesano, or I shall cry."
"Cry! Can you shed tears? I have shed many for you at night beneath your window. But you have no heart!"
"Why trouble then about so stony a young girl?"