That there was weight in the argument used by both Spicca and
Maria Consuelo herself, he could not deny; but he failed to see why the
marriage was so utterly impossible as they both declared it to be. There
must be much more behind the visible circumstances than he could guess.

He tried to comfort himself with the assurance that he could leave Rome
on the following day, and that Spicca would not refuse to give him Maria
Consuelo's address in Paris. But the consolation he derived from the
idea was small. He found himself wondering at the recklessness shown by
the woman he loved in escaping from him. His practical Italian mind
could hardly understand how she could have changed all her plans in a
moment, abandoning her half-furnished apartment without a word of notice
even to the workmen, throwing over her intention of spending the winter
in Rome as though she had not already spent many thousands in preparing
her dwelling, and going away, probably, without as much as leaving a
representative to wind up her accounts. It may seem strange that a man
as much in love as Orsino was should think of such details at such a
moment. Perhaps he looked upon them rather as proofs that she meant to
come back after all; in any case he thought of them seriously, and even
calculated roughly the sum she would be sacrificing if she stayed away.

Beyond all he felt the dismal loneliness which a man can only feel when
he is suddenly and effectually parted from the woman he dearly loves,
and which is not like any other sensation of which the human heart is
capable.

More than once, up to the last possible moment, he was tempted to drive
to the station and leave with Maria Consuelo after all, but he would not
break the promise he had given Spicca, no matter how weak he had been in
giving it.

On reaching his home he was informed, to his great surprise, that San
Giacinto was waiting to see him. He could not remember that his cousin
had ever before honoured him with a visit and he wondered what could
have brought him now and induced him to wait, just at the hour when most
people were at dinner.

The giant was reading the evening paper, with the help of a particularly
strong cigar.

"I am glad you have come home," he said, rising and taking the young
man's outstretched hand. "I should have waited until you did."

"Has anything happened?" asked Orsino nervously. It struck him that San
Giacinto might be the bearer of some bad news about his p