Laura also put on her shawl; she, too, was cold.
Luigi Caracciolo's tandem passed them. Anna did not see him. Laura bowed.
When they had reached the Piazza San Ferdinando, Anna asked: "Would you like to drive about a little?"
"No, let us go home."
And when they were in the house, "We must go in to dinner," Laura said.
"I'm not going to dine. I have a headache," said Anna.
At last she was alone. In her own room she threw aside her hat and veil, her sunshade, her purse, her pocket-handkerchief; she fell into an arm-chair, and was shaken by a storm of sobs and tears.
From above her little writing-table Cesare's portrait seemed to smile upon the flowers that were placed under it.
She raised her eyes, and looked at his beautiful and noble face, which appeared to glow with love and life. A great impulse of passion rose in her heart; she took the portrait and kissed it, and bathed it in her tears, murmuring, "my love, my love, why do you treat me like this? Ah, I can only love you, love you; and you are killing me."