“All the stronger proof that everything is not right.  You are well out of it, my boy, exceedingly well out of it.  I congratulate you.”

“I would rather not be congratulated.”

“As you please.  I am sorry for you, if you are unhappy.  Try and forget all about it.  How is your mother?”

At any other time Orsino would have laughed at the characteristic abruptness.

“Perfectly well, I believe.  I have not seen her all summer,” he answered gravely.

“Not been to Saracinesca all summer!  No wonder you look ill.  Telegraph to them that I have come back and let us get the family together as soon as possible.  Do you think I mean to spend six months alone in your company, especially when you are away all day at that wretched office of yours?  Be quick about it—­telegraph at once.”

“Very well.  But please do not repeat anything of what I have told you to my father or my mother.  That is the only thing I have to ask.”

“Am I a parrot?  I never talk to them of your affairs.”

“Thanks.  I am grateful.”

“To heaven because your grandfather is not a parakeet!  No doubt.  You have good cause.  And look here, Orsino—­”

The old man took Orsino’s arm and held it firmly, speaking in a lower tone.

“Do not make an ass of yourself, my boy—­especially in business.  But if you do—­and you probably will, you know—­just come to me, without speaking to any one else.  I will see what can be done without noise.  There—­take that, and forget all about your troubles and get a little more colour into your face.”

“You are too good to me,” said Orsino, grasping the old Prince’s hand.  For once, he was really moved.

“Nonsense—­go and send that telegram at once.  I do not want to be kept waiting a week for a sight of my family.”

With a deep, good humoured laugh he pushed Orsino out of the door in front of him and went off to his own quarters.

In due time the family returned from Saracinesca and the gloomy old palace waked to life again.  Corona and her husband were both struck by the change in Orsino’s appearance, which indeed contrasted strongly with their own, refreshed and strengthened as they were by the keen mountain air, the endless out-of-door life, the manifold occupations of people deeply interested in the welfare of those around them and supremely conscious of their own power to produce good results in their own way.  When they all came back, Orsino himself felt how jaded and worn he was as compared with them.

Before twelve hours had gone by, he found himself alone with his mother.  Strange to say he had not looked forward to the interview with pleasure.  The bond of sympathy which had so closely united the two during the spring seemed weakened, and Orsino would, if possible, have put off the renewal of intimate converse which he knew to be inevitable.  But that could not be done.