ty of conversation, I think that I can do nothing
more graceful--pardon me, nothing less ungraceful--than wish you a
pleasant journey, which I do with all my heart, Madame."

Thereupon Orsino rose and took his hat.

"Sit down. Do not go yet," said Maria Consuelo, growing a shade paler,
and speaking with an evident effort.

"Ah--true!" exclaimed Orsino. "We were forgetting the little commission
you spoke of in your note. I am entirely at your service."

Maria Consuelo looked at him quickly and her lips trembled.

"Never mind that," she said unsteadily. "I will not trouble you. But I
do not want you to go away as--as you were going. I feel as though we
had been quarrelling. Perhaps we have. But let us say we are good
friends--if we only say it."

Orsino was touched and disturbed. Her face was very white and her hand
trembled visibly as she held it out. He took it in his own without
hesitation.

"If you care for my friendship, you shall have no better friend in the
world than I," he said, simply and naturally.

"Thank you--good-bye. I shall leave to-morrow."

The words were almost broken, as though she were losing control of her
voice. As he closed the door behind him, the sound of a wild and
passionate sob came to him through the panel. He stood still, listening
and hesitating. The truth which would have long been clear to an older
or a vainer man, flashed upon him suddenly. She loved him very much, and
he no longer cared for her. That was the reason why she had behaved so
strangely, throwing her pride and dignity to the winds in her desperate
attempt to get from him a single kind and affectionate word--from him,
who had poured into her ear so many words of love but two months
earlier, and from whom to draw a bare admission of friendship to-day she
had almost shed tears.

To go back into the room would be madness; since he did not love her, it
would almost be an insult. He bent his head and walked slowly down the
corridor. He had not gone far, when he was confronted by a small dark
figure that stopped the way. He recognised Maria Consuelo's elderly
maid.

"I beg your pardon, Signore Principe," said the little black-eyed woman.
"You will allow me to say a few words? I thank you, Eccellenza. It is
about my Signora, in there, of whom I have charge."

"Of whom, you have charge?" repeated Orsino, not understanding her.

"Yes--precisely. Of course, I am only her maid. You understand that. But
I have charge of he