--"And who will punish you, you witch!" shrieked Bianchi, striding close up to her--"you poison, you baseness! Thank your grey hairs that you do not feel the weight of my hand!" He shook her violently by the shoulder. The old woman trembled. "Do not play such rough jokes upon a poor old woman," she stammered; "You have frightened me so that I shall have the gout. What! speak gently. Signer Carlo, and do not utter such unchristian words, enough to make one cross and bless oneself! What have you to say against the poor old Neuna?"
"What?" foamed Bianchi, and thrust her from him so violently that she sank upon her knees,--"you dare to ask? To play the virtuous to my very face, after you have betrayed me? Away! out of the house, and that without tarrying or whimpering--for I know you, and I ought to have known that you could be no fit guardian, and that treachery nestles in your withered breast!"
The old woman had raised herself, and waited with assumed humility a few feet from him, by the window. "You are right, Signor Carlo," she said; "I ought not to have done it; but I pitied the poor lonely creature, because she never got a glimpse of the world Sunday nor working day, and seeing nothing but the roofs opposite, or the dark streets and the little bits of starry sky at midnight, when you take her out now and then. 'Child,' said I, 'he is so kind that he cannot be angry with you, when you tell him this evening that you have been to see the races with me.' She did not like to go, poor thing; but I saw how much she wished it, and so persuaded her. And what harm is done? If you had not made all this noise about it, she would only have had a pleasure the more."
"Go!" said Bianchi, with inexorable calmness; "not one word more."
The old woman glided to the girl, who was seated on a chair in the corner, with downcast eyes. "Daughter!" she whispered, "do you try him." Caterina cast a glance at Bianchi's face, and shook her head. "It is useless," she answered.
"Let me stop the night here at least," begged the old woman, and approached the man a step nearer. "Where shall I rest my old head?--how can I collect my little things?"
"Go!" re-echoed the man;--"your things! you have nothing but what I have given you. Go, or"--
He raised his hand. The old woman trembled. Muttering a confused medley of curses, prayers, and threats, she glided from the house.
"Caterina," said Bianchi slowly, without looking up, "it is over! After to-day you see me not again! Do not ask me why, and do not be unhappy at the idea that you have made me angry. I have only been so with that she-fiend who has just gone from us. You are good, and will be happy, even though you do not see me again. Another will come, and will knock at your door--the same who sat by your side at the races. Open to him, greet him and love him--and be true to him! You must not tell him that you know me; you must never utter my name before him. But keep still at home, as you have hitherto done; and, should you chance to go out, avoid that part of the town that lies below by the Tiber. Promise me all this, Caterina!"
He waited for an answer. Instead of it, there came a sob from the corner that cut through his very heart. "Do not weep!" he said, as calmly as he could; "You hear that I do not go from you in anger, and you will be happy. All will be better for you than it has been hitherto. You will love the other better than you have loved me!"