"Has she listened to you--have you moved her ?" "In Heaven's name, dear madame," Rowland begged, "leave the poor girl alone! She is behaving very well!" "Behaving very well?
Is that all you have to tell me?
I don't believe you said a proper word to her.

You are conspiring together to kill me!" Rowland tried to soothe her, to remonstrate, to persuade her that it was equally cruel and unwise to try to force matters.

But she answered him only with harsh lamentations and imprecations, and ended by telling him that her daughter was her property, not his, and that his interference was most insolent and most scandalous.

Her disappointment seemed really to have crazed her, and his only possible rejoinder was to take a summary departure.
A moment later he came upon the Cavaliere, who was sitting with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, so buried in thought that Rowland had to call him before he roused himself.

Giacosa looked at him a moment keenly, and then gave a shake of the head, interrogatively.
Rowland gave a shake negative, to which the Cavaliere responded by a long, melancholy sigh.