“And,” she went on impetuously, “since Gheta said that, I'll tell you really about this necklace: Cesare gave it to her because he was sorry for her; because he thought that perhaps he had misled her. He spoke of it to me first.”
“No, signora,” the Spaniard responded deliberately; “it is not your sister who lies.”
Cesare Orsi exclaimed angrily. He took a hasty step; but Lavinia, quicker, moved between the two men.
“This is impossible,” she declared, “and must stop immediately! It is childish!”
There was now a metallic ring in Mochales' voice that disturbed her even more than his words. The bull-fighter, completely immobile, seemed a little inhuman; he was without a visible stir of emotion, but Orsi looked more puzzled and angry every moment.
“This,” he ejaculated, “in my own house—infamous!”
“Signor Mochales,” Lavinia reiterated, “what I have told you is absolutely so.”
“Your sister, signora, has said something different.... She did not want to tell me, but I persisted—I saw that something was wrong—and forced it from her.”
“Enough!” Orsi commanded. “One can see plainly that you have been duped; some things may be overlooked.... You have talked enough.”
Mochales moved easily forward.