"This is
your remedy. Get you hence! Go! What passes here concerns you not. Go!"
he roared like a mad beast, his rage a thing terrific.
I looked at him and from him to Giuliana, and my eyes most clearly invited
her to tell me how she would have me act.
"Indeed, you had best go, Agostino," she answered sadly. "I shall bear his
insults easier if there be no witness. Yes, go."
"Since it is your wish, Madonna," I bowed to her, and very erect, very
defiant of mien, I went slowly past the livid Fifanti, and so out. I heard
the door slammed after me, and in the little hall I came upon Busio, who
was wringing his hand and looking very white. He ran to me.
"He will murder her, Messer Agostino," moaned the old man. "He can be a
devil in his anger."
"He is a devil always, in anger and out of it," said I. "He needs an
exorcist. It is a task that I should relish. I'd beat the devils out of
him, Busio, and she would let me. Meanwhile, stay we here, and if she
needs our help, it shall be hers."
I dropped on to the carved settle that stood there, old Busio standing at
my elbow, more tranquil now that there was help at hand for Madonna in case
of need. And through the door came the sound of his storming, and
presently the crash of more broken glassware, as once more he thumped the
table.
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