Egidio bounded to Ragna's chair and shook his fist in her face. "I'll have you to understand that I won't have this sort of thing. I am master in my own house." "Say harem!" she suggested. His violence left her unmoved, superficially, at least; she only saw how ridiculous he looked, stamping his foot, shaking his fist, his face inflamed and swollen, the eyes blood-shot and starting from their sockets. She laughed. "My dear Signor Valentini, if you could only see how extremely ludicrous you make yourself!" With an oath he rushed at her, but she moved not a muscle and the derisive smile never left her face. It cowed him, and with a demented gesture he jammed his hat down over his eyes and flung out of the room. With shaking fingers Ragna put the drawing and the letter back into the writing-case and returned it to the secret drawer. She felt the effect of the scenes she had just been through, her head was dull and heavy, her senses numb. She went to the dining-room and poured herself a glass of water, then taking the lamp--she had to steady it with both hands, she went upstairs and passed through the children's room on the way to her own, pausing an instant by Mimmo's cot. He lay, moist and rosy, his fair curls tossed back on the pillow; one arm was thrown up and out, the other by his side; the long dark lashes swept his cheek--he was the picture of childish innocence and health. Beppino lay breathing heavily his face puckered to a frown, his fists clenched; he was a handsome child, but lacked Mimmo's winsomeness. Ragna set down the lamp and pulled up the covers about Mimmo's chest where he had thrown them back. A lump rose in her throat. "Oh, my little child, my poor little child--that you should have to call that man 'father'!"