The old gentleman continued to speak in his insinuating manner, when all at once he grew excited and began to gesticulate violently. “This abandonment of the boy is unspeakable!” he exclaimed.
“Unspeakable!”
“Yes, señora.”
“But you,—what right have you to speak?”
“Every right in the world. Yes, señora.”
The baroness seemed to be amazed at these words, and replied with vague excuses; then she became indignant and rising most gracefully from the sofa threw the book onto the floor, and accused the irate Cromwell of every ill that might befall the boy. He was to blame for everything, because he was a miserly old wretch.
The terrible vecchio replied to this arraignment in a brusk tone, averring that to lewd, extravagant women all men were stingy.
“If you have come here,” interrupted the baroness, “to insult a woman because she is alone and unprotected, I’ll not have it.”
Then came the chalky old man’s explanations, his efforts to clear himself of blame, his offers....
“I need you for nothing,” retorted the baroness haughtily. “I did not send for you.”