she had meant to convey such an idea, he would have no right at all to resent it.  Women, he reflected, did not look upon such matters as men did.  She had refused to marry him when he was prosperous.  If she meant that she would marry him now, to save him from ruin, he could not but acknowledge that she was carrying devotion near to its farthest limit.  But the words themselves would not bear such an interpretation.  He was straining language too far in suggesting it.

“And yet she means something,” he said to himself.  “Something which I cannot understand.”

He wrote again, maintaining the tone of his first letter more carefully than she had done on her part, though not sparing the warmest expressions of heartfelt thanks for the sympathy she had so readily given.  But there was no fourth way, he said.  One of those three things which he had explained to her must happen.  There was no hope, and he was resigned to continue his existence of slavery until Del Ferice’s death brought about the great crisis of his life.  Not that Del Ferice was in any danger of dying, he added, in spite of the general gossip about his bad health.  Such men often outlasted stronger people, as Ugo had outlived Donna Tullia.  Not that his death would improve matters, either, as they stood at present.  That he had explained before.  If the count died now, there were ninety-nine chances out of a hundred that Orsino would be ruined.  For the present, nothing would happen.  In little more than a month—­in six weeks at the utmost—­a new arrangement would be forced upon him, binding him perhaps for years to come.  Del Ferice had already spoken to him of a great public undertaking, at least half of the contract for which could easily be secured or controlled by his bank.  He had added that this might be a favourable occasion for Andrea Contini and Company to act in concert with the bank.  Orsino knew what that meant.  Indeed, there was no possibility of mistaking the meaning, which was clear enough.  The fourth plan could only lie in finding beforehand a purchaser for buildings which could not be so disposed of, because they were built for a particular purpose, and could only be bought by those who had ordered them, namely persons whom Del Ferice so controlled that he could postpone their appearance if he chose and drive Orsino into a failure at any moment after the completion of the work.  For instance, one of those buildings was evidently intended for a factory, and probably for a match factory.  Del Ferice, in requiring that Contini and Company should erect what he had already arranged to dispose of, had vaguely remarked that there were no match factories in Rome and that perhaps some one would like to buy one.  If Orsino had been less desperate he would willingly have risked much to resent the suave insolence.  As it was, he had laughed in his tyrant’s face, and bitterly enough; a form of insult, however, to which Ugo was supremely indifferent.  These and