other things?" he asked, repeating his question. "Do you mean that
there are reasons which may prevent me from being a good friend of
yours?"

"I am afraid there are. I do not know."

"I think you are mistaken, Madame. Will you name some of those
reasons--or even one?"

Maria Consuelo did not answer at once. She glanced at him, looked down,
and then her eyes met his again.

"Do you think that you are the kind of man a woman chooses for her
friend?" she asked at length, with a faint smile.

"I have not thought of the matter--"

"But you should--before offering your friendship."

"Why? If I feel a sincere sympathy for your trouble, if I am--" he
hesitated, weighing his words--"if I am personally attached to you, why
can I not help you? I am honest, and in earnest. May I say as much as
that of myself?"

"I believe you are."

"Then I cannot see that I am not the sort of man whom a woman might take
for a friend when a better is not at hand."

"And do you believe in friendship, Don Orsino?" asked Maria Consuelo
quietly.

"I have heard it said that it is not wise to disbelieve anything
nowadays," answered Orsino.

"True--and the word 'friend' has such a pretty sound!" She laughed, for
the first time since he had entered the room.

"Then it is you who are the unbeliever, Madame. Is not that a sign that
you need no friend at all, and that your questions are not seriously
meant?"

"Perhaps. Who knows?"

"Do you know, yourself?"

"No." Again she laughed a little, and then grew suddenly grave.

"I never knew a woman who needed a friend more urgently than you do,"
said Orsino. "I do not in the least understand your position. The little
you have told me makes it clear enough that there have been and still
are unusual circumstances in your life. One thing I see. That woman whom
you call your maid is forced upon you against your will, to watch you,
and is privileged to tell lies about you which may do you a great
injury. I do not ask why you are obliged to suffer her presence, but I
see that you must, and I guess that you hate it. Would it be an act of
friendship to free you from her or not?"

"At present it would not be an act of friendship," answered Maria
Consuelo, thoughtfully.

"That is very strange. Do you mean to say that you submit voluntarily--"

"The woman is a condition imposed upon me. I cannot tell you more."

"And no friend, no friendly help can change the condition, I suppose."

"I did not