So at least it seemed to her.

"Unhand it, sir!" she almost screamed.
"It's not me; it's the cursed sofa," said Bertie, looking imploringly in her face and holding up both his hands to show that he was not touching her belongings, but still remaining on his knees.
Hereupon the Signora laughed; not loud, indeed, but yet audibly.

And as the tigress bereft of her young will turn with equal anger on any within reach, so did Mrs.Proudie turn upon her female guest.
"Madam!" she said--and it is beyond the power of prose to tell of the fire which flashed from her eyes.
The signora stared her full in the face for a moment, and then turning to her brother said playfully, "Bertie, you idiot, get up." By this time the bishop, and Mr.Slope, and her three daughters were around her, and had collected together the wide ruins of her magnificence.

The girls fell into circular rank behind their mother, and thus following her and carrying out the fragments, they left the reception-rooms in a manner not altogether devoid of dignity.

Mrs.
Proudie had to retire and re-array herself.
As soon as the constellation had swept by, Ethelbert rose from his knees and, turning with mock anger to the fat rector, said: "After all it was your doing, sir--not mine.