"You hurt me! Oh, poor little Gregorio!" He was really mad, and there was no more acting for him, as the tears streamed down his vacant face, which no longer twitched at all.
His mind had broken down under Veronica's relentless accusation and threat of vengeance.
The miserable woman's strength was all but gone, when she sat down, alone in the room with her mad husband, and once more buried her face in her hands.
He whined and cried a little while to himself, and rubbed his arm where she had taken hold so roughly; but presently his tears dried again, and he leaned over the end of the couch on his elbow, and above her bowed, veiled head he crooked his fingers at each other, and made his hands nod and bob to each other, like little dolls, laughing gently, with a chuckle now and then, at the funny things he heard Pulcinella saying to his wife.
That was the end of the attempt to murder Veronica Serra, and that was the end of the old life at the Palazzo Macomer..