lid either,
and he had found his hold on things, since the days when Folco had been
used to lead him as easily as if he had no will of his own. No one would
have judged him to be a weak man now, physically or mentally. His frame
was spare and graceful still, but there was energy and directness in his
movements, his shoulders were square and he held his head high; yet it
was his face that had changed most, though in a way very hard to define.
A strong manhood sometimes follows a weak boyhood, very much to the
surprise of those who have long been used to find feebleness where
strength has suddenly developed. Marcello Consalvi had never been
cowardly, or even timid; he had only been weak in will as in body, an
easy prey to the man who had tried to ruin him, body and soul, in the
hope of sending him to his grave.

"I really cannot understand you, my dear boy," Corbario said very
sweetly. "You used to be so gentle! But now you fly into a passion for
the merest thing."

"I told you that I would not argue with you," Marcello said, keeping his
temper. "This is my house, and I choose that you should leave it at
once. Go your way, and leave me to go mine. You are amply provided for,
as long as you live, and you do not need my hospitality any longer,
since you are no longer my guardian. Live where you please. You shall
not stay here."

"I certainly don't care to stay here if you don't want me," Folco
answered. "But this is really too absurd! You must be going mad, to take
such a tone with me!"

"It is the only one which any honourable man who knows you would be
inclined to take."

"Take care! You are going too far."

"Because you are under my roof? Yes, perhaps. As my guest, if I have
been hasty, I apologise for expressing my opinion of you. I am going out
now. I hope you will find it convenient to have left before I come in."

Thereupon Marcello turned his back on Corbario, crossed the great
library deliberately, and went out without looking round.

Folco was left alone, and his still face did not even express surprise
or annoyance. He had indeed foreseen the coming break, ever since he had
returned to the villa three weeks earlier, when Marcello had received
him with evident coldness, not even explaining where he had been since
they had last parted. But Folco had not expected that the rupture would
come so suddenly, still less that he was literally to be turned out of
the house which he still regarded as his own, and i