“Let that book alone!” she said imperiously.  “Look at me—­so—­now tell me the truth!”

She laid her hand upon his arm, and not gently, and she made him turn to her.  Bosio felt that shock of shame which smites a man in the back, as it were, when a woman is too strong for him and orders him brutally to do her will.

“I told him the truth,” he answered, and his pale cheeks reddened with futile anger.

“The truth!” Matilde’s face darkened.  “What?  What did you tell him?”

Bosio was weakly glad to have frightened her a little.

“The truth,” he said, trying to assume a certain indifference.  “Just that.  I let him understand that nothing is definitely settled yet, and that there is no contract—­”

Matilde was silent, and her eyes seemed to draw nearer together, while the smooth red lips curled scornfully.

“Oh, what a coward you are!” she cried in a low voice, in deep disgust, and as she spoke she dropped his arm in contempt, though she still held his face with her angry gaze.

“You have no right to call me a coward,” answered Bosio, defending his manhood.  “I told you that I could not do it.  The man put it in such a way that I had to give him a definite answer.  For your sake I would not deny the engagement altogether—­”

“For my sake!” exclaimed Matilde.  “Do not use such phrases to me.  They mean nothing.  For some wretched quibble of your miserable conscience—­as you still have the assumption to call it—­you will ruin us in another day.”

“Yes, I still have some conscience,” replied Bosio, trying to be bold under her scornful eyes.  “I would not let Taquisara think that you and Gregorio had lied, and I would not lie myself—­”

“You are reforming, then?  You choose the moment well!”

“I have told you what passed between Taquisara and me,” said Bosio.  “That was what you wished to know.  I will judge of myself whether I did right or not.”

He turned from her and walked away, towards the door.

“Well?” she said, not moving, for she knew that her voice would stop him.

“Is there anything else?” he asked, turning again and standing still.

“There is much more.  Come back!  Sit down and talk to me like a sensible being.  There is much to be said.  The matter is all but settled in spite of the account which Taquisara frightened you into giving him.  I like that man, he is so brave!  He is not at all like you.”

“If you wish me to stay longer, you must not insult me again,” said Bosio, not yet seating himself, but resting his hands on the back of a chair as he stood.  “You know very well that I am no more a coward, if it comes to fighting men, than others are.  One need not be cowardly to dread doing such a thing as you are trying to force me to.”