“Did you find Del Ferice last night?” she asked, changing the subject without the least hesitation.

“Yes,” answered Orsino.

Almost before the word was spoken there was a knock at the door and Del Ferice appeared.  Orsino’s face cleared, as though something pleasant had happened, and Maria Consuelo observed the fact.  She concluded, naturally enough, that the two men had agreed to meet in her sitting-room, and she resented the punctuality which she supposed they had displayed in coming almost together, especially after what had happened on the preceding day.  She noted the cordiality with which they greeted each other and she felt sure that she was right.  On the other hand she could not afford to show the least coldness to Del Ferice, lest he should suppose that she was annoyed at being disturbed in her conversation with Orsino.  The situation was irritating to her, but she made the best of it and began to talk to Del Ferice about the speech he had made on the previous evening.  He had spoken well, and she found it easy to be just and flattering at the same time.

“It must be an immense satisfaction to speak as you do,” said Orsino, wishing to say something at least agreeable.

Del Ferice acknowledged the compliment by a deprecatory gesture.

“To speak as some of my colleagues can—­yes—­it must be a great satisfaction.  But Madame d’Aranjuez exaggerates.  And, besides, I only make speeches when I am called upon to do so.  Speeches are wasted in nine cases out of ten, too.  They are, if I may say so, the music at the political ball.  Sometimes the guests will dance, and sometimes they will not, but the musicians must try and suit the taste of the great invited.  The dancing itself is the thing.”

“Deeds not words,” suggested Maria Consuelo, glancing at Orsino, who chanced to be looking at her.

“That is a good motto enough,” he said gloomily.

“Deeds may need explanation, post facto,” remarked Del Ferice, unconsciously making such a direct allusion to recent events that Orsino looked sharply at him, and Maria Consuelo smiled.

“That is true,” she said.

“And when you need any one to help you, it is necessary to explain your purpose beforehand,” observed Del Ferice.  “That is what happens so often in politics, and in other affairs of life as well.  If a man takes money from me without my consent, he steals, but if I agree to his taking it, the transaction becomes a gift or a loan.  A despotic government steals, a constitutional one borrows or receives free offerings.  The fact that the despot pays interest on a part of what he steals raises him to the position of the magnanimous brigand who leaves his victims just enough money to carry them to the nearest town.  Possibly it is after all a quibble of definitions, and the difference may not be so great as it seems at first sight.  But then, all morality is but the shadow cast on one side or the other of a definition.”