Jealousy
is that one of all the passions which is most sure to break out
suddenly into deeds of violence when long restrained.
Giovanni scarcely knew how he reached the Corso nor how it was
that he found himself ascending the dusky staircase which led to
Gouache's lodgings. It was less than a quarter of an hour since
San Giacinto had been there, and the old woman still held her pot
of coals in her hand as she opened the door. As she had pointed to
the door when San Giacinto had come, so she now directed Giovanni
in the same way. But Giovanni, on hearing that Anastase was out,
began to ask questions.
"Has any one been here?" he inquired.
"Eh! There was a gentleman a quarter of an hour ago," replied the
woman.
"Has any lady been here?"
"A lady? Macche!" The old creature laughed. "What should ladies do
here?"
Giovanni thought he detected some hesitation in the tone. He was
in the mood to fancy himself deceived by every one.
"Are you fond of money?" he asked, brutally.
"Eh! I am an old woman. What would you have? Am I crazy that I
should not like money? But Signor Gouache is a very good
gentleman. He pays well, thank Heaven!"
"What does he pay you for?"
"What for? For his lodging--for his coffee. Bacchus! What should
he pay me for? Strange question in truth.
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