Orsino felt himself out of place.  He was more warmly attached to Spicca than he knew, and though he was at that time not far removed from loving Maria Consuelo, her tone in speaking to the old man, which said far more than her words, jarred upon him, and he could not help taking his friend’s part.  On the other hand the ugly truth that Spicca had caused the death of Aranjuez more than justified Maria Consuelo in her hatred.  Behind all, there was evidently some good reason why Spicca came to see her, and there was some bond between the two which made it impossible for her to refuse his visits.  It was clear too, that though she hated him he felt some kind of strong affection for her.  In her presence he was very unlike his daily self.

Again Orsino moved and looked at her, as though asking her permission to go away.  But she refused it with an imperative gesture and a look of annoyance.  She evidently did not wish to be left alone with the old man.  Without paying any further attention to the latter she began to talk to Orsino.  She took no trouble to conceal what she felt and the impression grew upon Orsino that Spicca would have gone away after a quarter of an hour, if he had not either possessed a sort of right to stay or if he had not had some important object in view in remaining.

“I suppose there is nothing to do in Rome at this time of year,” she said.

Orsino told her that there was absolutely nothing to do.  Not a theatre was open, not a friend was in town.  Rome was a wilderness.  Rome was an amphitheatre on a day when there was no performance, when the lions were asleep, the gladiators drinking, and the martyrs unoccupied.  He tried to say something amusing and found it hard.

Spicca was very patient, but evidently determined to outstay Orsino.  From time to time he made a remark, to which Maria Consuelo paid very little attention if she took any notice of it at all.  Orsino could not make up his mind whether to stay or to go.  The latter course would evidently displease Maria Consuelo, whereas by remaining he was clearly annoying Spicca and was perhaps causing him pain.  It was a nice question, and while trying to make conversation he weighed the arguments in his mind.  Strange to say he decided in favour of Spicca.  The decision was to some extent an index of the state of his feelings towards Madame d’Aranjuez.  If he had been quite in love with her, he would have stayed.  If he had wished to make her love him, he would have stayed also.  As it was, his friendship for the old count went before other considerations.  At the same time he hoped to manage matters so as not to incur Maria Consuelo’s displeasure.  He found it harder than he had expected.  After he had made up his mind, he continued to talk during three or four minutes and then made his excuse.

“I must be going,” he said quietly.  “I have a number of things to do before night, and I must see Contini in order to give him time to make a list of apartments for you to see to-morrow.”