“Not that I am aware of.  She may have married some younger son of whom I never heard.”

“You do not seem to care whom Orsino knows,” said Corona rather reproachfully.

“Orsino is grown up, dear.  You must not forget that.”

“Yes—­I suppose he is,” Corona answered with a little sigh.  “But surely you will not encourage him to cultivate the Del Ferice!”

“I fancy it would take a deal of encouragement to drive him to that,” said Sant’ Ilario with a laugh.  “He has better taste.”

There was some confusion outside.  People were waiting for their carriages, and as most of them knew each other intimately every one was talking at once.  Donna Tullia nodded here and there, but Maria Consuelo noticed that her salutations were coldly returned.  Orsino and his two companions stood a little aloof from the crowd.  Just then the Saracinesca carriage drove up.

“Who is that magnificent woman?” asked Maria Consuelo, as Corona got in.

“My mother,” said Orsino.  “My father is getting in now.”

“There comes my carriage!  Please help me.”

A modest hired brougham made its appearance.  Orsino hoped that Madame d’Aranjuez would offer him a seat.  But he was mistaken.

“I am afraid mine is miles away,” said Donna Tullia.  “Good-bye, I shall be so glad if you will come and see me.”  She held out her hand.

“May I not take you home?” asked Maria Consuelo.  “There is just room—­it will be better than waiting here.”

Donna Tullia hesitated a moment, and then accepted, to Orsino’s great annoyance.  He helped the two ladies to get in, and shut the door.

“Come soon,” said Maria Consuelo, giving him her hand out of the window.

He was inclined to be angry, but the look that accompanied the invitation did its work satisfactorily.

“He is very young,” thought Maria Consuelo, as she drove away.

“She can be very amusing.  It is worth while,” said Orsino to himself as he passed in front of the next carriage, and walked out upon the small square.

He had not gone far, hindered as he was at every step, when some one touched his arm.  It was Spicca, looking more cadaverous and exhausted than usual.

“Are you going home in a cab?” he asked.  “Then let us go together.”

They got out of the square, scarcely knowing how they had accomplished the feat.  Spicca seemed nervous as well as tired, and he leaned on Orsino’s arm.

“There was a chance lost this morning,” said the latter when they were under the colonnade.  He felt sure of a bitter answer from the keen old man.

“Why did you not seize it then?” asked Spicca.  “Do you expect old men like me to stand up and yell for a republic, or a restoration, or a monarchy, or whichever of the other seven plagues of Egypt you desire?  I have not voice enough left to call a cab, much less to howl down a kingdom.”