No, no, it was madness.

What would her sister say?
What would her brother-in-law think?
It was madness, an impossibility! And besides, besides, besides--She hid her face, whispering behind her hands that she would be satisfied if she could only see him for one moment; but she could not--no, no--she could not leave without having seen him.
"Enough!" said she, uncovering her face, after a long pause.

"Let us dress! I will wear whatever you please; sackcloth, if you wish it, or even haircloth!" Her face had resumed the aggrieved smile she had worn before.
"Who can tell ?" she said.

"Perhaps it will do me good to see him in the dress of a peasant!" "It would cure _me_ at once!" Noemi muttered; then she blushed, for she felt she had spoken a great untruth.
When Signora Selva knocked at the door to say the carriage was waiting, Jeanne, with mock humility, begged Noemi to allow her to wear a certain large Rembrandt hat of which she was very fond.

The black, feather-laden brim, drooping over her pale face, above the sombre light in her eyes, above the tall figure wrapped in a dark cloak, seemed to partake of her feelings, gloomy, passionate, and haughty.