To be short, Orsino Saracinesca was too enthusiastic to be wholly cold, and too thoughtful to be thoroughly enthusiastic.  He saw things differently according to his moods, and being dissatisfied, he tried to make one mood prevail constantly over the other.  In a mean nature the double view often makes an untruthful individual; in one possessing honourable instincts it frequently leads to unhappiness.  Affectation then becomes aspiration and the man’s failure to impose on others is forgotten in his misery at failing to impose upon himself.

The few words Orsino had exchanged with Maria Consuelo on the morning of the great ceremony recalled vividly the pleasant hour he had spent with her ten days earlier, and he determined to see her as soon as possible.  He was out of conceit with himself and consequently with all those who knew him, and he looked forward with pleasure to the conversation of an attractive woman who could have no preconceived opinion of him, and who could take him at his own estimate.  He was curious, too, to find out something more definite in regard to her.  She was mysterious, and the mystery pleased him.  She had admitted that her deceased husband had spoken of being connected with the Saracinesca, but he could not discover where the relationship lay.  Spicca’s very odd remark, too, seemed to point to her, in some way which Orsino could not understand, and he remembered her having said that she had heard of Spicca.  Her husband had doubtless been an Italian of Spanish descent, but she had given no clue to her own nationality, and she did not look Spanish, in spite of her name, Maria Consuelo.  As no one in Rome knew her it was impossible to get any information whatever.  It was all very interesting.

Accordingly, late on the afternoon of the second of January, Orsino called and was led to the door of a small sitting-room on the second floor of the hotel.  The servant shut the door behind him and Orsino found himself alone.  A lamp with a pretty shade was burning on the table and beside it an ugly blue glass vase contained a few flowers, common roses, but fresh and fragrant.  Two or three new books in yellow paper covers lay scattered upon the hideous velvet table cloth, and beside one of them Orsino noticed a magnificent paper cutter of chiselled silver, bearing a large monogram done in brilliants and rubies.  The thing contrasted oddly with its surroundings and attracted the light.  An easy chair was drawn up to the table, an abominable object covered with perfectly new yellow satin.  A small red morocco cushion, of the kind used in travelling, was balanced on the back, and there was a depression in it, as though some one’s head had lately rested there.