"You are not to come, signora!" he repeated, violently.
"But I am coming," she said.
They stood facing each other. It was like a battle, Gaspare's manner, his words, the tone in which they were spoken—all made her understand that there was some sinister terror in his soul. She did not ask what it was. She did not dare to ask. But she said again:
"I am coming with you, Gaspare."
He stared at her and knew that from that decision there was no appeal. If he went she would accompany him.
"Let us wait here, signora," he said. "The padrone will be coming presently. We had better wait here."
But now she was as determined on activity as before she had been—or seemed—anxious for patience.
"I am going," she answered. "If you like to let me go alone you can."
She spoke very quietly, but there was a thrill in her voice. The boy saw it was useless just then to pit his will against hers. He dropped his head, and the ugly look came back to his face, but he made no reply.
"We shall be back very soon, Lucrezia. We are going a little way down to meet the padrone. Come, Gaspare!"