he
suddenly rose to go. She would put on that sad look of hers and give him
her hand coldly. Then just as he reached the door she would call him
back, only to send him away again. He would find on the following day
that she had not left town after all, or, at most, that she had gone to
Florence for a day or two, while the workmen completed the furnishing of
her apartment. Then she would come back and would meet him just as
though there had never been anything between them.

The anticipation was so painful to him that he wished to have it
realised and over as soon as possible, and he looked at her again before
rising from his seat. He could hardly believe that she was the same
woman who had stood with him, watching the thunderstorm, on the previous
afternoon.

He saw that she was pale, but she was not facing the light and the
expression of her face was not distinctly visible. On the whole, he
fancied that her look was one of indifference. Her hands lay idly upon
her fan and by the drooping of her lids she seemed to be looking at
them. The full, curved lips were closed, but not drawn in as though in
pain, nor pouting as though in displeasure. She appeared to be
singularly calm. After hesitating another moment Orsino rose to his
feet. He had made up his mind what to say, for it was little enough, but
his voice trembled a little.

"Good-bye, Madame."

Maria Consuelo started slightly and looked up, as though to see whether
he really meant to go at that moment. She had no idea that he really
thought of taking her at her word and parting then and there. She did
not realise how true it was that she was much older than he and she had
never believed him to be as impulsive as he sometimes seemed.

"Do not go yet," she said, instinctively.

"Since you say that we must part--" he stopped, as though leaving her to
finish the sentence in imagination.

A frightened look passed quickly over Maria Consuelo's face. She made as
though she would have taken his hand, then drew back her own and bit her
lip, not angrily but as though she were controlling something.

"Since you insist upon our parting," Orsino said, after a short,
strained silence, "it is better that it should be got over at once." In
spite of himself his voice was still unsteady.

"I did not--no--yes, it is better so."

"Then good-bye, Madame."

It was impossible for her to understand all that had passed in his mind
while he had sat beside her, after the previous