“I suppose the state telegraph is not destroyed because Prince Montevarchi cannot meet his acceptances,” observed Orsino.  “And I imagine that our steward here in the house has enough cash for our needs, and will not hesitate to hand it to me if he receives a telegram from my father ordering him to do so.  Whether he has enough to take up the bills or not, I do not know; but as to-day is Saturday we have all day to-morrow to make arrangements.  I could even go out to Saracinesca and be back on Monday morning when the bank opens.”

“You seem to take a hopeful view.”

“I have not the least hope of saving the business.  But the question of ready money does not of itself disturb me.”

This was undoubtedly true, but it was also undeniable that Orsino now looked upon the prospect of failure with more equanimity than on the previous evening.  On the other hand he felt even more keenly than before all the pain of his sudden separation from Maria Consuelo.  When a man is assailed, by several misfortunes at once, twenty-four hours are generally enough to sift the small from the great and to show him plainly which is the greatest of all.

“What shall we do this morning?” inquired Contini.

“You ask the question as though you were going to propose a picnic,” answered Orsino.  “I do not see why this morning need be so different from other mornings.”

“We must stop the works instantly—­”

“Why?  At all events we will change nothing until we find out the real state of business.  The first thing to be done is to go to the bank as usual on Saturdays.  We shall then know exactly what to do.”

Contini shook his head gloomily and went away to wait in another room while Orsino dressed.  An hour later they were at the bank.  Contini grew paler than ever.  The head clerk would of course inform them that no more bills would be discounted, and that they must meet those already out when they fell due.  He would also tell them that the credit balance of their account current would not be at their disposal until their acceptances were met.  Orsino would probably at last believe that the situation was serious, though he now looked so supremely and scornfully indifferent to events.

They waited some time.  Several men were engaged in earnest conversation, and their faces told plainly enough that they were in trouble.  The head clerk was standing with them, and made a sign to Orsino, signifying that they would soon go.  Orsino watched him.  From time to time he shook his head and made gestures which indicated his utter inability to do anything for them.  Contini’s courage sank lower and lower.

“I will ask for Del Ferice at once,” said Orsino.

He accordingly sought out one of the men who wore the bank’s livery and told him to take his card to the count.

“The Signor Commendatore is not coming this morning,” answered the man mysteriously.