He took his hat and rose.  He was not prepared for Maria Consuelo’s answer.

“I asked you to stay,” she said, coldly and very distinctly.

Spicca did not allow his expression to change.  Orsino stared at her.

“I am very sorry, Madame, but there are many reasons which oblige me to disobey you.”

Maria Consuelo bit her lip and her eyes gleamed angrily.  She glanced at Spicca as though hoping that he would go away with Orsino.  But he did not move.  It was more and more clear that he had a right to stay if he pleased.  Orsino was already bowing before her.  Instead of giving her hand she rose quickly and led him towards the door.  He opened it and they stood together on the threshold.

“Is this the way you help me?” she asked, almost fiercely, though in a whisper.

“Why do you receive him at all?” he inquired, instead of answering.

“Because I cannot refuse.”

“But you might send him away?”

She hesitated, and looked into his eyes.

“Shall I?”

“If you wish to be alone—­and if you can.  It is no affair of mine.”

She turned swiftly, leaving Orsino standing in the door and went to Spicca’s side.  He had risen when she rose and was standing at the other side of the room, watching.

“I have a bad headache,” she said coldly.  “You will forgive me if I ask you to go with Don Orsino.”

“A lady’s invitation to leave her house, Madame, is the only one which a man cannot refuse,” said Spicca gravely.

He bowed and followed Orsino out of the room, closing the door behind him.  The scene had produced a very disagreeable impression upon Orsino.  Had he not known the worst part of the secret and consequently understood what good cause Maria Consuelo had for not wishing to be alone with Spicca, he would have been utterly revolted and for ever repelled by her brutality.  No other word could express adequately her conduct towards the count.  Even knowing what he did, he wished that she had controlled her temper better and he was more than ever sorry for Spicca.  It did not even cross his mind that the latter might have intentionally provoked Aranjuez and killed him purposely.  He felt somehow that Spicca was in a measure the injured party and must have been in that position from the beginning, whatever the strange story might be.  As the two descended the steps together Orsino glanced at his companion’s pale, drawn features and was sure that the man was to be pitied.  It was almost a womanly instinct, far too delicate for such a hardy nature, and dependent perhaps upon that sudden opening of his sympathies which resulted from meeting Maria Consuelo.  I think that, on the whole, in such cases, though the woman’s character may be formed by intimacy with man’s, with apparent results, the impression upon the man is momentarily deeper, as the woman’s gentler instincts are in a way reflected in his heart.