d her face softened wonderfully as she looked at him.

"Can you not guess?" he asked.

He was conscious of a very unusual emotion, not at all in harmony with
the imaginary character he had chosen for himself, and which he
generally maintained with considerable success. Maria Consuelo was one
person when she leaned back in her chair, laughing or idly listening to
his talk, or repulsing the insignificant declarations of devotion which
were not even meant to be taken altogether in earnest. She was pretty
then, attractive, graceful, feminine, a little artificial, perhaps, and
Orsino felt that he was free to like her or not, as he pleased, but that
he pleased to like her for the present. She was quite another woman
to-day, as she bent forward, her tawny eyes growing darker and more
mysterious every moment, her auburn hair casting wonderful shadows upon
her broad pale forehead, her lips not closed as usual, but slightly
parted, her fragrant breath just stirring the quiet air Orsino breathed.
Her features might be irregular. It did not matter. She was beautiful
for the moment with a kind of beauty Orsino had never seen, and which
produced a sudden and overwhelming effect upon him.

"Do you not know?" he asked again, and his voice trembled unexpectedly.

"Thank you," she said softly and she touched his hand almost
caressingly.

But when he would have taken it, she drew back instantly and was once
more the woman whom he saw every day, careless, indifferent, pretty.

"Why do you change so quickly?" he asked in a low voice, bending towards
her. "Why do you snatch your hand away? Are you afraid of me?"

"Why should I be afraid? Are you dangerous?"

"You are. You may be fatal, for all I know."

"How foolish!" she exclaimed, with a quick glance.

"You are Madame d'Aranjuez, now," he answered. "We had better change the
subject."

"What do you mean?"

"A moment ago you were Consuelo," he said boldly.

"Have I given you any right to say that?"

"A little."

"I am sorry. I will be more careful. I am sure I cannot imagine why you
should think of me at all, unless when you are talking to me, and then I
do not wish to be called by my Christian name. I assure you, you are
never anything in my thoughts but His Excellency Prince Orsino
Saracinesca--with as many titles after that as may belong to you."

"I have none," said Orsino.

Her speech irritated him strongly, and the illusion which had been so
powerful a few moments