Cedebonis was the only one who rejoiced at sight of Biagio Speranza, who made him laugh quite as much as hygiene required, and exclaimed: “Oh, bravo! Now you must tell us all about it.”
But Biagio Speranza did not assent. He looked at the mistress of the house.
“In Heaven’s name!” implored Signora Pentoni, “leave me in peace this evening!”
Biagio Speranza glanced round at his friends, and with a gesture asked what had happened.
“Martinelli,” explained Cariolin, “has been to the hospital before you to get news, and Carolinona has learned—”
“And regrets it?” cried Biagio Speranza, feigning surprise. “Ah, excuse me, Carolinona; what ingratitude! I have seen your poet, and by a miracle restrained myself from kissing his brow. What a hero of love! He spoke to me only of you. He asked me—”
Signora Pentoni rose to her feet, convulsed; she pressed her handkerchief to her eyes, tried to say “Excuse me,” but a burst of sobs smothered the words in her throat, and she rushed toward the door of her room.
Cariolin, Scossi, ran forward and stopped her; all except Cedebonis and Trunfo rose to their feet and surrounded the weeping woman.
“Rubbish! Absurd!” sneered Trunfo from the table.
But the others, all in chorus, exhorted Carolinona to be of good courage. Was she really afraid that Cocco Bertolli would compel her to marry him? Preposterous, if she did not wish to! Disturbances? But were there not the police to keep him in order? Her promise as he lay at the point of death? What promise? Oh, nonsense! He should be made to understand, willy-nilly, that she had but uttered a pious lie. No? How was that?