“But I use no perfume.”
“Just now I smelt it, when I leant my head where yours had been.”
“None; smell!” she said, with unconscionable audacity, as she raised her head to his, that he might inhale the perfume of her hair.
Then he lost his head, seized Lucia by the waist, and kissed her throat madly and roughly. She freed herself like a viper, starting to her feet in a fury, scorching him with the flashing of her eyes. Not a word passed between them. Stunned and confused, he watched her moving about the room in search of her cloak, her gloves, her bonnet, and in such a tremor of rage that she could not find them for a long while. At last she slipped on her cloak, but her quivering hands could not tie the strings of her black bonnet. The white dress had disappeared; she was all in black now, lividly pale, with dark rings under her eyes.
“Where are you going now?”
“I am going away.”
“Alone?”
“Alone.”
“No, rather than let you do that, I will go myself.” He made her a low bow and disappeared within the bedroom, shutting the door between them.
When Caterina returned, panting with haste, she found Lucia calmly stretched out on the sofa.