Spicca recovered himself quickly, however.  He took out his case and offered Orsino a cigarette.

“So you have renewed your acquaintance,” he said quietly.

“Yes—­under rather odd circumstances,” answered Orsino.  “I feel as though I owed you an apology, Count, and yet I do not see what there is to apologise for.  I tried to go away more than once.”

“You cannot possibly make excuses to me for Madame d’Aranjuez’s peculiarities, my friend.  Besides, I admit that she has a right to treat me as she pleases.  That does not prevent me from going to see her every day.”

“You must have strong reasons for bearing such treatment.”

“I have,” answered Spicca thoughtfully and sadly.  “Very strong reasons.  I will tell you one of those which brought me to-day.  I wished to see you two together.”

Orsino stopped in his walk, after the manner of Italians, and he looked at Spicca.  He was hot tempered when provoked, and he might have resented the speech if it had come from any other man.  But he spoke quietly.

“Why do you wish to see us together?” he asked.

“Because I am foolish enough to think sometimes that you suit one another, and might love one another.”

Probably nothing which Spicca could have said could have surprised Orsino more than such a plain statement.  He grew suspicious at once, but Spicca’s look was that of a man in earnest.

“I do not think I understand you,” answered Orsino.  “But I think you are touching a subject which is better left alone.”

“I think not,” returned Spicca unmoved.

“Then let us agree to differ,” said Orsino a little more warmly.

“We cannot do that.  I am in a position to make you agree with me, and I will.  I am responsible for that lady’s happiness.  I am responsible before God and man.”

Something in the words made a deep impression upon Orsino.  He had never heard Spicca use anything approaching to solemn language before.  He knew at least one part of the meaning which showed Spicca’s remorse for having killed Aranjuez, and he knew that the old man meant what he said, and meant it from his heart.

“Do you understand me now?” asked Spicca, slowly inhaling the smoke of his cigarette.

“Not altogether.  If you desire the happiness of Madame d’Aranjuez why do you wish us to fall in love with each other?  It strikes me that—­” he stopped.

“Because I wish you would marry her.”

“Marry her!” Orsino had not thought of that, and his words expressed a surprise which was not calculated to please Spicca.

The old man’s weary eyes suddenly grew keen and fierce and Orsino could hardly meet their look.  Spicca’s nervous fingers seized the young man’s tough arm and closed upon it with surprising force.

“I would advise you to think of that possibility before making any more visits,” he said, his weak voice suddenly clearing.  “We were talking together a few weeks ago.  Do you remember what I said I would do to any man by whom harm comes to her?  Yes, you remember well enough.  I know what you answered, and I daresay you meant it.  But I was in earnest, too.”