But he had already moved away, and did not hear.
For a long while she lay on her bed, burying her face in her pillow, biting it, to keep down her sobs. She was shivering with cold, in spite of the feather coverlet she had drawn over her. All her flesh and spirit were in furious revolt against the thing that she had seen and heard.
She rose, and looked round her room. It was in disorder—the dress she had worn, her fan, her jewels tossed pell-mell hither and thither. Slowly, with minute care, she gathered these objects up, and put them in their places.
Then she rang the bell.
Her maid came, half asleep.
"What time is it?" asked Anna, forgetting that on the table beside her stood the clock that Cesare had given her.
"It's one," responded the maid.
"So late?" inquired her mistress. "You may go to bed."