"Bid me not fly from those star-like eyes," sang the Signor, rolling a cigarette with deft fingers. "Ah, che bella musica. If the words were but my beautiful Italian instead of this harsh English. Dio! It hurts the throat, your speaking--fog-voiced pigs that you are." "Take your abuse and yourself somewhere else," replied Mrs. Belswin, bringing her hand down sharply on the table. "I tell you I'm busy. You never leave me alone, Stephano. You followed me over from America, and now you stay beside me all day. Why do you make such a fool of yourself?" "Because I love thee, carissima. Let me light this; not at thine eyes--stelle radiante--but from thy cigarette. Grazia!" Mrs. Belswin knew of old that when Ferrari was in this humour nothing reasonable could be expected from him; so, resigned to the inevitable, she let him light his cigarette as he wished, then, flinging herself down on her chair, looked moodily at him. "How long is this foolery going to last?" she demanded caustically. "Till you become the Signora Ferrari." "That will never be." "Nay, angela mia--it will be some day." "Was there ever such a man?" burst out Mrs. Belswin, viciously. "He won't take no for an answer." "Not from thee, Donna Lucrezia." "Don't call me Donna Lucrezia. "Perchè?" "Because I'm tired of opera. I'm tired of you. I'm tired of everything. I'm going to leave all the old life and become respectable." "The life of a singer is always respectable," declared Ferrari, mendaciously. "You mean to leave me, Signora?" "Yes, I do." "Ebbene! we shall see." "What claim have you on me? None. I met you in America two years ago. We nag together for a time, and because of that you persecute me with you ridiculous attentions." "I love thee." "I don't want your love." "Veramente!" "No!" She spoke defiantly, and folding her arms stared steadily at her persistent lover. The Italian, however, was not at all annoyed. He simply threw his half-smoked cigarette into the teacup, and rising from his seat stood before her smiling and bland as ever. "Non e vero, Signora? Ebbene. I am the same. We met in San Francisco two years ago. I was a singer of opera. I obtained for you engagements. I loved you. Carissima, I love thee still! You are cold, cruel, you stone-woman, bella demonia. For long time I have been your slave. You have given me the kicks of a dog. Pazienza, I finish soon. I have told you all of myself. You have told me all of yourself. I come to this fog land with you, and now you say, 'Addio.' Bellissima, Signora, but I am not to be talked to like a child. I love you! and I marry you. Ecco! You will be Signora Ferrari. Senza dubbio!"