“You did! You did, Madre! It’s no use! I understood directly.”
She began quickly to take off her hat.
“Marchese, we are going out.”
“Vere, this is absurd.”
“We are going outside, Marchese. Madre wants air.”
The Marchesino, accustomed only to the habits and customs of Neapolitan women, looked frankly as if he thought Hermione mad.
“Poor Madre must have a breath of air.”
“I will open the window, Signora!”
“And the rain all over her, and the thunder close above her, and the sea in her face, the sea—the sea!”
She clapped her hands.