PONZA. And why were you worrying about that piano, then? SIGNORA FROLA. No, no! I'm not worrying about any piano.... PONZA. I broke that piano up and destroyed it. You know that, the moment your daughter died, to keep this second wife of mine from playing on it. For that matter you know that this second woman never plays. SIGNORA FROLA. Why, of course, dear! Of course! She doesn't know how to play! PONZA. And one thing more: Your daughter was Lena, wasn't she? Her name was Lena. Now, see here! You just tell these people what my second wife's name is. Speak up! You know very well what her name is! What is it? What is it? SIGNORA FROLA. Her name is Julia! Yes, yes, of course, my dear friends, her name is Julia! (_Winks at someone in the company_). PONZA. Exactly! Her name is Julia, and not Lena! Who are you winking at? Don't you go trying to suggest by those winks of yours that she's not Julia! SIGNORA FROLA. Why, what do you mean? I wasn't winking! Of course I wasn't! PONZA. I saw you! I saw you very distinctly! You are trying to ruin me! You are trying to make these people think that I am keeping your daughter all to myself, just as though she were not dead. (_He breaks into convulsive sobbing_) ... just as though she were not dead! SIGNORA FROLA (_hurrying forward and speaking with infinite kindness and sympathy_). Oh no! Come, come, my poor boy. Come! Don't take it so hard. I never said any such thing, did I, madam! AMALIA, SIGNORA SIRELLI, DINA. Of course she never said such a thing! She always said the girl was dead! Yes! Of course! No! SIGNORA FROLA. I did, didn't I? I said she's dead, didn't I? And that you are so very good to me. Didn't I, didn't I? I, trying to ruin you? I, trying to get you into trouble? PONZA. And you, going into other people's houses where there are pianos, playing your daughter's tunes on them! Saying that Lena plays them that way, or even better! SIGNORA FROLA. No, it was ... why ... you see ... it was ... well ... just to see whether.... PONZA. But you _can't_ ... you _mustn't_! How could you ever dream of trying to play a tune that your dead daughter played! SIGNORA FROLA. You are quite right!... Oh, yes! Poor boy! Poor boy! (_She also begins to weep_). I'll never do it again: Never, never, never again! PONZA (_advancing upon her threateningly_). What are you doing here? Get out of here! Go home at once! Home! Home! Go home! SIGNORA FROLA. Yes, Yes! Home! I am going home! Oh dear, oh dear!