But Hermione interrupted him.
“You will never marry my daughter, Marchese,” she said.
A sudden red burned in her cheeks, and she leaned forward slightly, but very quickly, almost as if an impulse had come to her to push the Marchesino away from her.
“But, Signora, I assure you that my family—”
“It is quite useless to talk about it.”
“But why, Signora?”
“My child is not for a man like you,” Hermione said, emphasizing the first word.
A dogged expression came into the Marchesino’s face, a fighting look that was ugly and brutal, but that showed a certain force.
“I do not understand, Signora. I am like other men. What is the matter with me?”
He turned a little in his chair so that he faced her more fully.