He patted her shoulder again and pinched her ear, and Cesare passed his arm about her waist. She struggled to free herself.
“Let her go!” cried the other men, and, flushed and dishevelled, she took refuge on the throne. The pose was resumed, and the room settled down to work again.
She kept very still, but after a while the tears that filled her eyes overflowed, ran down her cheeks, and dripped upon the hand that held the fan.
“I am sorry,” cried Mario.
“And I.”
“Forgive me.”
“And me.”
“I was a mascalzone!”
“And I.”
“Forgive them for our sakes,” growled Bembi, “or they will cackle all night.”