t. Gradually a smile stole over it, beginning, as it seemed, from
the deeply set eyes and concentrating itself at last in the full, red
mouth. Then she spoke, still looking upwards and away from him.

"What would you think if I were not a little severe?" she asked. "I am a
woman living--travelling, I should say--quite alone, a stranger here,
and little less than a stranger to you. What would you think if I were
not a little severe, I say? What conclusion would you come to, if I let
you take my hand as often as you pleased, and say whatever suggested
itself to your imagination--your very active imagination?"

"I should think you the most adorable of women--"

"But it is not my ambition to be thought the most adorable of women by
you, Prince Orsino."

"No--of course not. People never care for what they get without an
effort."

"You are absolutely irrepressible!" exclaimed Maria Consuelo, laughing
in spite of herself.

"And you do not like that! I will be meekness itself--a lamb, if you
please."

"Too playful--it would not suit your style."

"A stone--"

"I detest geology."

"A lap-dog, then. Make your choice, Madame. The menagerie of the
universe is at your disposal. When Adam gave names to the animals, he
could have called a lion a lap-dog--to reassure the Africans. But he
lacked imagination--he called a cat, a cat."

"That had the merit of simplicity, at all events."

"Since you admire his system, you may call me either Cain or Abel,"
suggested Orsino. "Am I humble enough? Can submission go farther?"

"Either would be flattery--for Abel was good and Cain was interesting."

"And I am neither--you give me another opportunity of exhibiting my deep
humility. I thank you sincerely. You are becoming more gracious than I
had hoped."

"You are very like a woman, Don Orsino. You always try to have the last
word."

"I always hope that the last word may be the best. But I accept the
criticism--or the reproach, with my usual gratitude. I only beg you to
observe that to let you have the last word would be for me to end the
conversation, after which I should be obliged to go away. And I do not
wish to go, as I have already said."

"You suggest the means of making you go," answered Maria Consuelo, with
a smile. "I can be silent--if you will not."

"It will be useless. If you do not interrupt me, I shall become
eloquent--"

"How terrible! Pray do not!"

"You see! I have you in my power. You cannot get rid of