“Nothing! But what infamous creatures they both are! They are a couple of assassins. Listen, listen; I tell you, they will certainly be the death of me.”
He had almost risen to a sitting posture, choked by impotent rage, clenching his diminutive fists, opening his mouth to breathe, to utter a cry. She gazed at him with wide-open eyes, struck once more with the stupor that from time to time paralysed her brain.
“Then you have not received anything but that letter; you know nothing of their doings? You know only that they have gone? That is why you are so cool! If you only knew ... only knew ... what infamy ... what infamy...!”
She exerted her will and succeeded in raising her head, drew nearer to him, and questioned him with her eyes.
“I will whisper it to you. The doctor advises me not to waste my breath. When you see me getting excited, stop me. Horrible treason! It has gone on for some time, you know, since our stay at Centurano....”
A wild look passed over the face of his listener, but he did not observe it.
“... but in reality, those infamous assassins were betraying us. Centurano indeed! It began before my marriage. One day that they were alone, in your house, Andrea kissed Lucia, on the neck....”
Caterina wrung the helpless hands that were lying in her lap.
“... afterwards they made love to each other under our very eyes; writing, speaking to each other, making appointments with an impudence.... We never noticed anything. All through that accursed Exhibition! How could I tell that they would have served me like this? Do you know that they kissed....”
He ground his teeth as he told these things, casting savage glances around him, revelling in the ecstasy, the intoxication of his rage when he recalled the voluptuous details of the love-story. On Caterina’s face, which was turned towards him, there was still the same look of grieved surprise.