Accordingly Marietta sat down on a small chair near the table
and watched her father in silence, persuaded that he would be obliged to
yield in the end.
"No one has ever dared to browbeat me in this way, in my whole life!"
cried the old man fiercely, and his voice shook with rage.
"Will you listen to me?" asked Marietta with sudden meekness.
"Listen to you?" he repeated instantly. "Have I not been listening to
you for hours?"
"I do not know how long it may have been," answered the girl, "but I
have much more to say. You are so angry that you will not hear me."
"Angry? I? Are you telling me that I am so beside myself with rage, that
I cannot understand reason?"
"I did not say that."
"You meant it, then! What did you say? You have forgotten what you said
already! Just like a girl! And you pretend to argue with me, with your
own father! It is beyond belief! Silence, I say! Do not answer me!"
Marietta sat quite still, and began to look at her nails, which were
very pink and well shaped. After a short silence Beroviero stopped
before her.
"Well!" he cried. "Why do you not speak?" His eyes blazed and he tapped
the pavement with his foot. She raised her eyebrows, smiled a little
wearily and sighed.
"I misunderstood you," she said, with exasperating patience.
Pages:
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406