Faustina turned to Watzdorf.
'Be my witness,' she shrieked, 'he wishes to make a puppet of me that I may not have my own will. To-morrow his protégé would ruin my theatre. No, he must be dismissed!'
'Why?' said Guarini quietly. 'Because the beautiful youth does not admire you? Because he prefers the blue eyes of the Frenchwoman to yours?'
Faustina clapped her hands.
'Do you hear him, that abominable prete?' cried she. 'Do I need his homage? Have I not enough of that? I am disgusted with it!'
'Yes, as if woman had ever enough of it,' laughed Guarini.
'But about whom, is this question?' asked Watzdorf.
'Un poverino!' the Jesuit answered, 'whom that pitiless woman wished to drive from the theatre.'
'Un assassino! Un traditore! Una spia!' cried Faustina.
Watzdorf, although feeling sad, was amused by this quarrel between a priest and an actress.