"You haven't—you haven't——"
There was a sound of reserve in her voice, and yet a sound of triumph, too. She looked up at him again.
"Do you guess that I have something to tell you?" she said, slowly.
"Something to tell me?" he repeated, dully.
He was so intent on himself, on his own evil-doing, that it seemed to him as if everything must have some connection with it.
"Ah," she said, quickly; "no, I see you weren't."
"What is it?" he asked, but without real interest.
"I can't tell you now," she said.
Gaspare went by the window leading the donkeys.
"Buona notte, signora!"