“People will say that I am following you—­”

“They will say that we are gone together, for every one will have reason to say it.  Do you suppose that nobody is aware of our—­our intimacy during the last month?”

“Why not say our love?”

“Because I hope no one knows of that—­well, if they do—­Orsino, be kind!  Let me go alone—­as a man of honour, do not injure me by leaving Rome with me, nor by following me when I am gone!”

She stopped and looked up into his face with an imploring glance.  To tell the truth, Orsino had not foreseen that she might appeal to his honour, alleging the danger to her reputation.  He bit his lip and avoided her eyes.  It was hard to yield, and to yield so quickly, as it seemed to him.

“How long will you stay away?” he asked in a constrained voice.

“I shall not come back at all.”

He wondered at the firmness of her tone and manner.  Whatever the real ground of her resolution might be, the resolution itself had gained strength since they had parted little more than an hour earlier.  The belief suddenly grew upon him again that she did not love him.

“Why are you going at all?” he asked abruptly.  “If you loved me at all, you would stay.”

She drew a sharp breath and clasped her hands nervously together.

“I should stay if I loved you less.  But I have told you—­I will not go over it all again.  This must end—­this saying good-bye!  It is easier to end it at once.”

“Easier for you—­”

“You do not know what you are saying.  You will know some day.  If you can bear this, I cannot.”

“Then stay—­if you love me, as you say you do.”

“As I say I do!”

Her eyes grew very grave and sad as she stopped and looked at him again.  Then she held out both her hands.

“I am going, now.  Good-bye.”

The blood came back to Orsino’s face.  It seemed to him that he had reached the crisis of his life and his instinct was to struggle hard against his fate.  With a quick movement he caught her in his arms, lifting her from her feet and pressing her close to him.

“You shall not go!”

He kissed her passionately again and again, while she fought to be free, straining at his arms with her small white hands and trying to turn her face from him.

“Why do you struggle?  It is of no use.”  He spoke in very soft deep tones, close to her ear.

She shook her head desperately and still did her best to slip from him, though she might as well have tried to break iron clamps with her fingers.

“It is of no use,” he repeated, pressing her still more closely to him.

“Let me go!” she cried, making a violent effort, as fruitless as the last.

“No!”

Then she was quite still, realising that she had no chance with him.

“Is it manly to be brutal because you are strong?” she asked.  “You hurt me.”