Most unaccountable of all had been Maria Consuelo’s own behaviour.  Her chief preoccupation seemed to have been to get rid of him as soon as possible.  She had been very seriously offended with him to-day, much more deeply, indeed, than yesterday, though, the cause appeared to his inexperience to be a far less adequate one.  It was evident, he thought, that she had not really pardoned his want of tact, but had yielded to the necessity of giving a reluctant forgiveness, merely because she did not wish to break off her acquaintance with him.  On the other hand, she had allowed him to say again and again that he loved her, and she had not forbidden him to call her by her name.

He had always heard that it was hard to understand women, and he began to believe it.  There was one hypothesis which he had not considered.  It was faintly possible that she loved him already, though he was slow to believe that, his vanity lying in another direction.  But even if she did, matters were not clearer.  The supposition could not account for her sending him away so abruptly and with such evident intention.  If she loved him, she would naturally, he supposed, wish him to stay as long as possible.  She had only wished to keep him long enough to tell him how angry she was.  He resented that again, for he was in the humour to resent most things.

It was all extremely complicated, and Orsino began to think that he might find the complication less interesting than he had expected a few hours earlier.  He had little time for reflection either, since he was to meet both Maria Consuelo and Del Ferice at dinner.  He felt as though the coming evening were in a measure to decide his future existence, and it was indeed destined to exercise a great influence upon his life, as any person not disturbed by the anxieties which beset him might easily have foreseen.

Before leaving the house he made an excuse to his mother, saying that he had unexpectedly been asked to dine with friends, and at the appointed hour he rang at Del Ferice’s door.

CHAPTER XII.

Orsino looked about him with some curiosity as he entered Del Fence’s abode.  He had never expected to find himself the guest of Donna Tullia and her husband and when he took the robust countess’s hand he was inclined to wish that the whole affair might turn out to be a dream.  In vain he repeated to himself that he was no longer a boy, but a grown man, of age in the eyes of the law to be responsible for his own actions, and old enough in fact to take what steps he pleased for the accomplishment of his own ends.  He found no solace in the reflection, and he could not rid himself of the idea that he had got himself into a very boyish scrape.  It would indeed have been very easy to refuse Del Ferice’s invitation and to write him a note within the hour explaining vaguely that circumstances beyond his control obliged him to ask another interview for the discussion of business matters.  But it was too late now.  He was exchanging indifferent remarks with Donna Tullia, while Del Ferice looked on benignantly, and all three waited for Madame d’Aranjuez.