Don Orsino

X.

ORSINO went directly to San Giacinto’s house, and found him in the room which he used for working, and in which he received the many persons whom he was often obliged to see on business. The giant was alone, and was seated behind a broad polished table, occupied in writing. Orsino was struck by the extremely orderly arrangement of everything he saw. Papers were tied together in bundles of exactly like shape, which lay in two lines of mathematical precision. The big inkstand was just in the middle of the rows, and a paper-cutter, a penrack, and an erasing-knife lay side by side in front of it. The walls were lined with low bookcases of a heavy and severe type, filled principally with documents neatly filed in volumes, and marked on the back in San Giacinto’s clear handwriting. The only object of beauty in the room was a full-length portrait of Flavia. by a great artist, which hung above the fireplace. The rigid symmetry of everything was made imposing by the size of the objects: the table was larger than ordinary tables ; the easy - chairs were deeper, broader, and lower than common; the inkstand was bigger; even the penholder in San Giacinto’s fingers was longer and thicker than any Orsino had ever seen. And yet the latter felt that there was no affectation about all this. The man to whom these things belonged, and who used them daily, was himself created on a scale larger than other men.

Though he was older than Sant’ Ilario, and was, in fact, not far from sixty years of age, San Giacinto might easily have passed for less than fifty. There was hardly a gray thread in his short, thick black hair, and he was still as lean and strong, and almost as active, as he had been thirty years earlier. The large features were perhaps a little more bony and the eyes somewhat deeper than they had been, but these changes lent an air of dignity rather than of age to the face.

He rose to meet Orsino, and then made him sit down beside the table. The young man suddenly felt an unaccountable sense of inferiority, and hesitated as to how he should begin.

“ I suppose you want to consult me about something? ” said San Giacinto quietly.

“Yes. I want to ask your advice, if you will give it to me, about a matter of business.”

“Willingly. What is it?”

Orsino was silent for a moment and stared at the wall. He was conscious that the very small sum of which he could dispose must seem even smaller in the eyes of such a man, but this did not disturb him. He was oppressed by San Giacinto’s personality, and prepared himself to speak as though he had been a student undergoing oral examination. He stated his case plainly, when he at last spoke. He was of age, and he looked forward with dread to an idle life. All careers were closed to him. He had fifteen thousand francs in his pocket. Could San Giacinto help him to occupy himself by investing the sum in a building speculation ? Was the sum sufficient as a beginning? Those were the questions.

San Giacinto did not laugh, as Sant’ Ilario had done. He listened very attentively to the end, and then deliberately offered Orsino a cigar and lit one himself, before he delivered his answer.

“ You are asking the same question which is put to me very often, ” he said at last. ‘‘I wish I could give you any encouragement. I cannot.”

Orsino’s face fell, for the reply was categorical. He drew back a little in his chair, but said nothing.

“ That is my answer, ” continued San Giacinto thoughtfully; “but when one says‘no ’ to another the subject is not necessarily exhausted. On the contrary, in such a case as this I cannot let you go without giving you my reasons. I do not care to give my views to the public, but, such as they are, you are welcome to them. The time is past. That is why I advise you to have nothing to do with any speculation of this kind. That is the best of all reasons. ”

“ But you yourself are still engaged in this business,” objected Orsino.

“ Not so deeply as you fancy. I have sold almost everything which I do not consider a certainty, and am selling what little I still have as fast as I can. In speculation there are only two important moments, — the moment to buy and the moment to sell. In my opinion this is the time to sell, and I do not think that the time for buying will come again without a crisis.”

“But everything is in such a flourishing state ” —

“No doubt it is, to-day. But no one can tell what state business will be in next week, nor even to-morrow.”

“There is Del Ferice ” —

“No doubt, and a score like him.” answered San Giacinto, looking quietly at Orsino. “Del Ferice is a banker, and I am a speculator, as you wish to be. His position is different from ours. It is better to leave him out of the question. Let us look at the matter logically. You wish to speculate ” —

“Excuse me,” said Orsino, interrupting him. “I want to try what I can do in business.”

“You wish to risk money, in one way or another. You therefore wish one or more of three things, — money for its own sake, excitement, or occupation. I can hardly suppose that you want money. Eliminate that. Excitement is not a legitimate aim, and you can get it more safely in other ways. Therefore you want occupation. ”

“That is precisely what I said at the beginning, ” observed Orsino, with a shade of irritation.

“Yes. But I like to reach my conclusions in my own way. You are, then, a young man in search of an occupation. Speculation — and what you propose is nothing else.—is no more an occupation than playing at the public lottery, and much less one than playing at baccarat. There at least you are responsible for your own mistakes, and in decent society you are safe from the machinations of dishonest people. That would matter less if the chances were in your favor, as they might have been a year ago, and as they were in mine from the beginning. They are against you now, because it is too late, and they are against me. I would as soon buy a piece of land on credit, at the present moment, as give the whole sum in cash to the first man I met in the street.”

“Yet there is Montevarchi, who still buys ” —

“Montevarchi is not worth the paper on which he signs his name, ” said San Giacinto calmly,

Orsino uttered an exclamation of surprise and incredulity.

“You may tell him so, if you please,” answered the giant, with perfect indifference. “If you tell any one what I have said, please to tell him first. — that is all. He will not believe you. But in six months he will know it, I fancy, as well as I know it now. He might have doubled his fortune, but he was and is totally ignorant of business. He thought it enough to invest all he could lay hands on, and that the returns would be sure. He has invested forty millions, and owns property which he believes to be worth sixty, but which will not bring ten in six months; and those remaining ten millions he owes on all manner of paper, on mortgages on his original property, in a dozen ways which he has forgotten himself.”

“I do not see how that is possible!

“I am a plain man, Orsino, and I am your cousin. You may take it for granted that I am right. Do not forget that I was brought up in a handto-hand struggle for fortune such as you cannot dream of. When I was your age I was a practical man of business, — I had taught myself; and it was all on such a small scale that a mistake of a hundred francs made the difference between profit and loss. I dislike details, but I have been a man of detail all my life, by force of circumstance. Successful business implies the comprehension of details. It is tedious work, and if you mean to try it you must begin at the beginning. You ought to do so. There is an enormous business before you. with considerable capabilities in it. If I were in your place, I would take what fell naturally to my lot.”

“What is that ? ”

“Farming. They call it agriculture in parliament, because they do not know what farming means. The men who think that Italy can live without farmers are fools. We are not a manufacturing people any more than we are a business people. The best dictator for us would be a practical farmer, a ploughman like Cincinnatus. Nobody who has not tried to raise wheat on an Italian mountain side knows the great difficulties or the great possibilities of our country. Do you know that, bad as our farming is, and absurd as is our system of land taxation, we are food exporters, to a small extent? The beginning is there. Take my advice,— be a farmer. Manage one of the big estates you have amongst you for five or six years. You will not do much good to the land in that time, but you will learn what land really means. Then go into parliament and tell people facts. That is an occupation and a career as well, which cannot be said of speculation in building lots, large or small. If you have any ready money, keep it in government bonds until you have a chance of buying something worth keeping. ”

Orsino went away disappointed and annoyed. San Giacinto’s talk about farming seemed very dull to him. To bury himself for half a dozen years in the country in order to learn the rotation of crops and the principles of land draining did not present itself as an attractive career. If San Giacinto thought farming the great profession of the future, why did he not try it himself? Orsino dismissed the idea rather indignantly, and his determination to try his luck became stronger by the opposition it met. Moreover, he had expected very different language from San Giacinto. whose sober view jarred on Orsino’s enthusiastic impulse.

But he now found himself in considerable difficulty. He was ignorant even of the first steps to be taken, and knew no one to whom he could apply for information. There was Prince Montevarchi, indeed, who, though he was San Giacinto’s brother - in - law, seemed, by the latter’s account, to have got into trouble. He did not understand how San Giacinto could allow his wife’s brother to ruin himself without lending him a helping hand; but San Giacinto was not the kind of man of whom people ask indiscreet questions, and Orsino had heard that the two men were not on the best of terms. Possibly good advice had been offered and refused. Such affairs generally end in a breach of friendship. However that might be, Orsino would not go to Montevarchi.

He wandered aimlessly about the streets, and the money seemed to burn in his pocket, though he had carefully deposited it in a place of safety at home. Again and again Del Ferice’s story of the carpenter and his two companions recurred to his mind. He wondered how they had set about beginning, and he wished he could ask Del Ferice himself. He could not go to the man’s house, but he might possibly meet him at Maria Consuelo’s. He was surprised to find that he had almost forgotten her in his anxiety to become a man of business. It was too early to call yet, and in order to kill the time he went home, got a horse from the stables, and rode out into the country for a couple of hours.

At half past five o’clock he entered the familiar little sitting-room in the hotel. Madame d’Aranjuez was alone, cutting a new book with the jeweled knife which continued to be the only object of the kind visible in the room. She smiled as Orsino entered, and laid aside the volume as he sat down in his accustomed place.

“I thought you were not coming,” she said.

“Why?”

“You always come at five. It is half past to-day.”

Orsino looked at his watch.

“ Do you notice whether I come or not? ” he asked.

Maria Consuelo glanced at his face, and laughed.

“ What have you been doing today?” she inquired. “That is much more interesting. ”

“Is it? I am afraid not. I have been listening to those disagreeable things which are called truths by the people who say them. I have listened to two lectures delivered by two very intelligent men for my especial benefit. It seems to me that as soon as I make a good resolution it becomes the duty of sensible people to demonstrate that I am a fool.”

“You are not in a good humor. Tell me all about it.” “And weary you with my grievances? No. Is Del Ferice coming this afternoon ? ”

“ How can I tell ? He does not come often.”

“ I thought he came almost every day,” said Orsino gloomily.

He was disappointed, but Maria Consuelo did not understand what was the matter. She leaned forward in her low seat, her chin resting upon one hand, and her tawny eyes fixed on Orsino’s.

“Tell me, my friend, are you unhappy? Can I do anything ? Will you tell me ? ”

It was not easy to resist the appeal. Though the two had grown intimate of late, there had hitherto always been something cold and reserved behind her outwardly friendly manner. To - day she seemed suddenly willing to be different. Her easy, graceful attitude, her soft voice full of promised sympathy, above all the look in her strange eyes, revealed a side of her character which Orsino had not suspected, and which affected him in a way he could not have described.

Without hesitation he told her his story from beginning to end, simply, without comment, and without any of the cutting phrases which came so readily to his tongue on most occasions. She listened very thoughtfully to the end.

“Those things are not misfortunes,” she said; “but they may be the beginnings of unhappiness. To be unhappy is worse than any misfortune. What right has your father to laugh at you ? Because he never needed to do anything for himself, he thinks it absurd that his son should dislike the lazy life that is prepared for him. It is not reasonable, it. is not kind.”

“Yet he means to be both, I suppose,” said Orsino bitterly.

“Oh, of course! People always mean to be the soul of logic and the paragon of charity, especially where their own children are concerned.” Maria Consuelo added the last words with more feeling than seemed justified by her sympathy for Orsino’s woes. The moment was perhaps favorable for asking a leading question about herself, and her answer might have thrown light on her problematic past. But Orsino was too busy with his own troubles to think of that, and the opportunity slipped by and was lost.

“ You know now why I want to see Del Ferice,” he said. “I cannot go to his house. My only chance of talking to him lies here.”

“ And that is what brings you ? You are very flattering! ”

“ Do not be unjust. We all look forward to meeting our friends in heaven. ”

“Very pretty. I forgive you. But I am afraid that you will not meet Del Ferice. I do not think he has left the Chambers yet. There was to be a debate this afternoon in which he had to speak.”

“Does he make speeches? ”

“Very good ones. I have heard him. ”

“I have never been inside the Chambers, ” observed Orsino.

“You are not very patriotic. You might go there and ask for Del Ferice. You could see him without going to his house, without compromising your dignity.”

“ Why do you laugh ? ”

“Because it all seems to me so absurd. You know that you are perfectly free to go and see him when and where you will. There is nothing to prevent you. He is the one man of all others whose advice you need. He has an unexceptionable position in the world. No doubt he has done strange things, but so have dozens of people whom you know. His present reputation is excellent, I say. And yet, because some twenty years ago, when you were a child, he held one opinion and your father held another, you are interdicted from crossing his threshold ! If you can shake hands with him here, you can take his hand in his own house. Is not that true ? ”

“Theoretically, I dare say, but not in practice. You see it yourself. You have chosen one side from the first, and all the people on the other side know it. As a foreigner, you are not bound to either, and you can know everybody in time, if you please. Society is not so prejudiced as to object to that. But because you begin with the Del Ferice in a very uncompromising way, it would take a long time for you to know the Montevarchi, for instance.”

“ Who told you that I was a foreigner ? ” asked Maria Consuelo, rather abruptly.

“You yourself ” —

“That is good authority!” She laughed. “I do not remember - ah! because I do not speak Italian? You mean that ? One may forget one’s own language, or, for that matter, one may never have learned it.”

“Are you Italian, then, madame? ” asked Orsino, surprised that she should lead the conversation so directly to a point which he had supposed must be reached by a series of tactful approaches.

“Who knows? I am sure I do not. My father was Italian. Does that constitute nationality ? ”

“Yes. But the woman takes the nationality of her husband, I believe,” said Orsino, anxious to hear more.

“Ah, yes, —poor Aranjuez! ” Maria Consuelo’s voice suddenly took that sleepy tone which Orsino had heard more than once. Her eyelids drooped a little, and she lazily opened and shut her hand, and spread out the fingers and looked at them.

But Orsino was not satisfied to let the conversation drop at this point, and after a moment’s pause he put a decisive question.

“And was Monsieur d’Aranjuez also Italian? ” he asked.

“ What does it matter ? ” she asked, in the same indolent tone. “Yes, since you ask me, he was Italian, poor man. ”

Orsino was more and more puzzled. That the name did not exist in Italy he was almost convinced. He thought of the story of the Signor Aragno, who had fallen overboard in the South Seas, and then he was suddenly aware that he could not believe in anything of the sort. Maria Consuelo did not betray a shade of emotion, either, at the mention of her deceased husband. She seemed absorbed in the contemplation of her hands. Orsino had not been rebuked for his curiosity, and would have asked another question if he had known how to frame it. An awkward silence followed. Maria Consuelo raised her eyes slowly and looked thoughtfully into Orsino’s face.

“I see, ” she said at last. “You are curious. I do not. know whether you have any right to be, have you ? ”

“I wish I had! ” exclaimed Orsino thoughtlessly.

Again she looked at him in silence for some moments.

“I have not known you long enough,” she said. “And if I had known you longer, perhaps it would not be different. Are other people curious, too? Do they talk about me ? ”

“The people I know do. But they do not know you. They see your name in the papers as a beautiful Spanish princess. Yet everybody is aware that there is no Spanish nobleman of your name. Of course they are curious. They invent stories about you, which I deny. If I knew more, it would be easier. ’’

“Why do you take the trouble to deny such things? ”

She asked the question with a change of manner. Once more she leaned forward, and her face softened wonderfully as she looked at him.

“Can you not guess?” he returned.

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 before 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 her hand, 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 inquired, 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 earlier all but disappeared.

“Then you advise me to go and find Del Ferice at Monte Citorio ? ” he observed.

“If you like,” She laughed. “There is no mistaking your intention when you mean to change the subject, ” she added.

“You made it sufficiently clear that the other was disagreeable to you.”

“I did not mean to do so.”

“Then, in Heaven’s name, what do you mean, madame ? ” he asked, suddenly losing his head in his extreme annoyance.

Maria Consuelo raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Why are you so angry? ” she asked. “Do you know that it is very rude to speak like that ? ”

“I cannot help it. What have I done to-day that you should torment me as you do ? ”

“I? I torment you? My dear friend, you are quite mad.”

“I know I am. You make me so.”

“Will you tell me how? What have I done ? What have I said ? You Romans are certainly the most extraordinary people. It is impossible to please you. If one laughs, you become tragic. If one is serious, you grow gay. I wish I understood you better.”

“You will end by making it impossible for me to understand myself, ” said Orsino. “You say that I am changeable. Then what are you? ”

“Very much the same to-day as yesterday,” said Maria Consuelo calmly ; “and I do not suppose that I shall be very different to-morrow.”

“At least I will take my chance of finding that you are mistaken, ” said Orsino, rising at once, and standing before her.

“Are you going? ” she inquired, as though she were surprised.

“Since I cannot please you.”

“Since you will not.”

“I do not know how.”

“ Be yourself, — the same that you always are. You are affecting to be some one else to-day.”

“ I fancy it is the other way, ” answered Orsino, with more truth than he really owned to himself.

“Then I prefer the affectation to the reality.”

“As you will, madame. Goodevening. ”

He crossed the room to go out. She called him back.

“ Don Orsino ! ”

He turned sharply round.

“ Madame ? ”

Seeing that he did not move, she rose and went to him.

He looked down into her face, and saw that it was changed again.

“Are you really angry ? ” she asked. There was something girlish in the way she asked the question, and for a moment in her whole manner.

Orsino could not help smiling. But he said nothing.

“No, you are not,” she continued. “I can see it. Do you know, I am very glad. It was foolish of me to tease you. You will forgive me? This once ? ”

“If you will give me warning the next time.” He found that he was looking into her eyes.

“What is the use of warning? ” she asked.

They were very close together, and there was a moment’s silence. Suddenly Orsino forgot everything, and bent down, clasping her in his arms and kissing her again and again. It was brutal, rough, senseless, but he could not help it.

Maria Consuelo uttered a short, sharp cry, more of surprise, perhaps, than of horror. To Orsino’s amazement and confusion, her voice was immediately answered by another, which was that of the dark and usually silent maid whom he had seen once or twice. The woman ran into the room, terrified by the cry site had heard.

“Madame felt faint in crossing the room, and was falling when I caught her, ” said Orsino, with a coolness that did him credit.

And in fact Maria Consuelo closed her eyes, as he let her sink into the nearest chair. The maid fell on her knees beside her mistress and began chafing her hands.

“The poor signora! ” she exclaimed. “She should never be left alone! She has not been herself since the poor signore died. You had better leave us, sir. I will put her to bed when she revives. It often happens, —pray do not be anxious.”

Orsino picked up his hat and left the room.

“Oh, it often happens, does it?” he said to himself, as he closed the door softly behind him and walked down the corridor of the hotel.

He was more amazed at his own boldness than he cared to own. He had not supposed that scenes of this description produced themselves so very unexpectedly, and, as it were, without any fixed intention on the part of the chief actor. He remembered that he had been very angry with Madame d’Aranjuez, that she had spoken half a dozen words, and that he had felt an irresistible impulse to kiss her. He had done so, and he thought with considerable trepidation of their next meeting. She had screamed, which showed that she was outraged by his boldness. It was doubtful whether she would receive him again. The best thing to be done, he thought, was to write her a very humble letter of apology, explaining his conduct as best he could. This did not accord very well with his principles, but he had already transgressed them in being so excessively hasty. Her eyes had certainly been provoking in the extreme, and it had been impossible to resist the expression of her lips. But at all events he should have begun by kissing her hand, which she would certainly not have withdrawn again ; then he might have put his arm round her and drawn her head to his shoulder. These were preliminaries in the matter of kissing which it was undoubtedly right to observe, and he had culpably neglected them. He had been abominably brutal, and he ought to apologize. Nevertheless, he would not have forfeited the recollection of that moment for all the other recollections of his life, and he knew it. As he walked along the street he felt a wild exhilaration such as he had never known before. He owned gladly to himself that he loved Maria Consuelo, and resolutely thrust away the idea that his boyish vanity was pleased by the snatching of a kiss.

Whatever the real nature of his delight might be, it was for the time so sincere that he even forgot to light a cigarette in order to think over the circumstances.

Walking rapidly up the Corso, he came to Piazza Colonna, and the glare of the electric light somehow recalled him to himself.

“Great speech of the Honorable Del Ferice! ” yelled a newsboy in his ear. “Ministerial crisis! Horrible murder of a grocer! ” Orsino mechanically turned to the right, in the direction of the Chambers. Del Ferice had probably gone home, since his speech was already in print. But fate had ordained otherwise. Del Ferice had corrected his proofs on the spot, and had lingered to talk with his friends before going home. Not that it mattered much, for Orsino could have found him as well on the following day. His brougham was standing in front of the great entrance, and he himself was shaking hands with a tall man under the light of the lamps. Orsino went up to him.

“Could you spare me a quarter of an hour ? ” asked the young man, in a voice constrained by excitement. He felt that he was embarked at last upon his great enterprise.

Del Ferice looked up in some astonishment. He had reason to dread the quarrelsome disposition of the Saracinesca as a family, and he wondered what Orsino wanted.

“Certainly, certainly, Don Orsino,” he answered, with a particularly bland smile. “Shall we drive, or at least sit in my carriage? I am a little fatigued with my exertions to-day. ”

The tall man bowed and strolled away, biting the end of an unlit cigar.

“It is a matter of business,” said Orsino, before entering the carriage. “Can you help me to try my luck — in a very small way — in one of the building enterprises you manage ? ”

“Of course I can, and will,” answered Del Ferice, more and more astonished. “After you, my dear Don Orsino, after you, ” he repeated, pushing the young man into the brougham. “Quiet streets — till I stop you. ” he said to the footman, as he himself got in.

XI.

Del Ferice was surprised beyond measure at Orsino’s request, and was not guilty of any profoundly nefarious intention when he so readily acceded to it. His own character made him choose as a rule to refuse nothing that was asked of him, though his promises were not always fulfilled afterwards. To express his own willingness to help those who asked was of course not the same as asserting his power to give assistance when the time should come. In the present case, he did not even make up his mind which of two courses he would ultimately pursue. Orsino came to him with a small sum of ready money in his hand. Del Ferice had it in his power to make him lose that sum, and a great, deal more besides, thereby causing the boy endless trouble with his family ; or else the banker could, if he pleased, help him to a very considerable success. His really superior talent for diplomacy inclined him to choose the latter plan, but he was far too cautious to make any hasty decision.

The brougham rolled on through quiet and ill-lighted streets, and Del Ferice leaned back in his corner, not listening at all to Orsino’s talk, though he occasionally uttered a polite though entirely unintelligible syllable or two which might mean anything agreeable to his companion’s views. The situation was easy enough to understand, and he had grasped it in a moment. What Orsino might say was of no importance whatever, but the consequences of any action on Del Ferice’s part might be serious and lasting.

Orsino stated his many reasons for wishing to engage in business, as be had stated them more than once already during the day and during the past weeks, and when he had finished he repeated his first question.

“Can you help me to try my luck ? ” he asked.

Del Ferice awoke from his reverie with characteristic readiness, and realized that he must say something. His voice had never been strong, and he leaned out of his corner of the carriage in order to speak near Orsino’s ear. “I am delighted with all you say,” he began, “and I scarcely need repeat that my services are altogether at your disposal. The only question is, how are we to begin ? The sum you mention is certainly not large, but that does not matter. You would have little difficulty in raising as many hundreds of thousands as you have thousands, if money were necessary. But in business of this kind the only ready money needed is for stamp duty and for the wages of workmen; and the banks advance what is necessary for the latter purpose, in small sums on notes of hand guaranteed by a general mortgage. When you have paid the stamp duties, you may go to the club and lose the balance of your capital at baccarat, if you please. The loss in that direction will not affect your credit as a contractor. All that is very simple. You wish to succeed, however, not at cards, but at business. That is the difficulty.” Del Ferice paused.

“That is not very clear to me,” observed Orsino.

“No, no,” answered Del Ferice thoughtfully. “No, I dare say it is not so very clear. I wish I could make it clearer. Speculation means gambling only when the speculator is a gambler. Of course there are successful gamblers in the world, but there are not many of them. I read somewhere, the other day, that business was the art of handling other people’s money. The remark is not particularly true. Business is the art of creating a value where none has yet existed. That is what you wish to do. I do not think that a Saracinesca would take pleasure in turning over money not belonging to him.”

“Certainly not! ” exclaimed Orsino. “That is usury.”

“Not exactly, but it is banking; and banking, it is quite true, is usury within legal bounds. There is no question of that here. The operation is simple in the extreme. I sell you a piece of land on the understanding that you will build upon it, and instead of payment you give me a mortgage. I lend you money from month to month in small sums at a small interest, to pay for material and labor. You are responsible only upon one point, — the money is to be used for the purpose stated. When the building is finished you sell it. If you sell it for cash, you pay off the mortgage, and receive the difference. If you sell it with the mortgage, the buyer becomes the mortgagor and pays you the difference only, which remains yours, out and out. That is the whole process from beginning to end.”

“How wonderfully simple! ”

“It is almost primitive in its simplicity,” answered Del Ferice gravely. “But in every case two difficulties present themselves, and I am bound to tell you that they are serious ones.”

“What are they ? ”

“You must know how to buy in the right part of the city, and you must have a competent, assistant. The two conditions are indispensable.”

“What sort of an assistant? ” asked Orsino.

“A practical man. If possible, an architect, who will then have a share of the profits instead of being paid for his work. ”

“Is it very hard to find such a person ? ”

“It is not easy.”

“Do you think you could help me? ”

“I do not know. I am assuming a great responsibility in doing so. You do not seem to realize that, Don Orsino. ”

Del Ferice laughed a little in his quiet way, but Orsino was silent. It was the first time that the banker had reminded him of the vast difference in their social and political positions.

“I do not think it would be very wise of me to help you into such a business as this,” said Del Ferice cautiously. “ I speak quite selfishly and for my own sake. Success is never certain, and it would be a great injury to me if you failed.” He was beginning to make up his mind.

“Why?” asked Orsino. His own instincts of generosity were aroused. He would certainly not do Del Ferice an injury if he could help it, nor allow him to incur the risk of one.

“If you fail,” answered the other, “all Rome will say that I have intentionally brought about your failure, You know how people talk. Thousands will become millions, and I shall be accused of having plotted the destruction of your family, because your father once wounded me in a duel, nearly five-and-twenty years ago.”

“ How absurd ! ”

“No. no; it is not absurd. I am afraid I have the reputation of being vindictive. Well, well, it is in bad taste to talk of one’s self. I am good at hating, perhaps, but I have always felt that I preferred peace to war. and now I am growing old. I am not what I once was, Don Orsino, and I do not like quarreling. But I would not allow people to say impertinent things about me; and if you failed and lost money, I should be abused by your friends, and perhaps censured by my own. Do you see? Yes, I am selfish. I admit it. You must forgive that weakness in me. I like peace.”

“It is very natural, ” said Orsino, “and I have no right to put you in danger of the slightest inconvenience. But, after all, why need I appear before the public ? ”

Del Ferice smiled in the dark.

“True,” he answered. “You could establish an anonymous firm, so to say, and the documents would be a secret between you and me and the notary. Of course there are many ways of managing such an affair quietly.”

He did not add that the secret could be kept only so long as Orsino was successful. It seemed a pity to damp so much good enthusiasm. “ We will do that, then, if you will show me how. My ambition is not to see my name on a doorplate, but to be really occupied.”

“I understand, I understand,” said Del Ferice thoughtfully. “I must ask you to give me until to - morrow to consider the matter. It needs a little thought. ”

“Where can I find you, to hear your decision ? ”

Del Ferice was silent for a moment.

“I think I once met you late in the afternoon at Madame d’Aranjuez’s. We might manage to meet there tomorrow and come away together. Shall we name an hour? Would it suit you ? ”

“Perfectly,” answered Orsino, with alacrity.

The idea of meeting Maria Consuelo alone was very disturbing, in his present state of mind. He felt that he had lost his balance in his relations with her, and that in order to regain it he must see her in the presence of a third person, if only for a quarter of an hour. It would be easier, then, to resume the former intercourse and to say whatever he should determine upon saying. If she were offended, she would at least not show it in any marked way before Del Ferice. Orsino’s existence, he thought, was becoming complicated for the first time; and though he enjoyed the vague sensation of impending difficulty. he wanted as many opportunities as possible for reviewing the situation and for meditating upon each new move.

He got out of Del Fence’s carriage at no great distance from his own home, and after a few words of most sincere thanks walked slowly away. He found it very hard to arrange his thoughts in any consecutive order, though he tried several methods of self - analysis, and repeated to himself that he had experienced a great happiness, and was probably on the threshold of a great success. These two reflections did not help him much. The happiness had been of the explosive kind, and the success in the business matter was more than problematic, as well as certainly distant in the future.

He was very restless, and craved the immediate excitement of further emotions, so that he would certainly have gone to the club that night, had not the fear of losing his small and precious capital deterred him. He thought of all that was coming, and he determined to be careful, even sordid if necessary, rather than lose his chance of making the great attempt. Besides, he would cut a poor figure on the morrow, if he were obliged to admit to Del Feriee that he had lost his fifteen thousand francs and was momentarily penniless. Accordingly, he shut himself up in his own room at an early hour, and smoked in solitude until he was sleepy, reviewing the various events of the day, or trying to do so, though his mind reverted constantly to the one chief event of all, — to the unaccountable outburst of passion by which he had perhaps offended Maria C nsuelo beyond forgiveness. With all his affectation of cynicism he had not learned that sin is easy only because it meets with such very general encouragement. Even if he had been aware of that undeniable fact, the knowledge might not have helped him materially.

The hours passed very slowly during the next day, and even when the appointed time had come Orsino allowed another quarter of an hour to go by before he entered the hotel and ascended to the little sitting-room in which Maria Consuelo received. He meant to be sure that Del Ferice was there before entering, but he was too proud to watch for the latter’s coming, or to inquire of the porter whether Maria Consuelo were alone or not. It seemed simpler in every way to appear a little late.

But Del Ferice was a busy man and not always punctual, so that, to Orsino ’ s considerable confusion, he found Maria Consuelo alone, in spite of his precaution. He was so much surprised as to become awkward, for the first time in his life, and he felt the blood rising in his face, dark as he was.

“Will you forgive me?” he asked, almost timidly, as he held out his hand.

Maria Consuelo’s tawny eyes looked curiously at him. Then she smiled suddenly.

“My dear child,” she replied, “you should not do such things. It is very foolish, you know.”

The answer was so unexpected and so exceedingly humiliating, as Orsino thought at first, that he grew pale and drew back a little. But Maria Consuelo took no notice of his behavior, and settled herself in her accustomed chair.

“ Did you find Del Ferice last night ?” she asked, changing the subject without the least hesitation.

“Yes,” answered Orsino.

Almost before the word was spoken there was a knock at the door and Del Ferice appeared. Orsino’s face cleared as though something pleasant had happened, and Maria Consuelo observed the fact. She concluded, naturally enough, that the two men had agreed to meet in her sitting-room, and she resented the punctuality which she supposed they had displayed in coming almost together, especially after what had happened on the preceding day. She noted the cordiality with which they greeted each other, and she felt sure that she was right. On the other hand, she could not afford to show the least coldness to Del Ferice, lest he should suppose that she was annoyed at being disturbed in her conversation with Orsino. The situation was irritating to her, but she made the best of it, and began to talk to Del Ferice about the speech he had made on the previous evening. He had spoken well, and she found it easy to be just and flattering at the same time.

“ It must he an immense satisfaction to speak as you do, ” observed Orsino, wishing to say something at least agreeable.

Del Ferice acknowledged the compliment by a deprecatory gesture.

“To speak as some of my colleagues can, —yes, it must be a great satisfaction. But Madame d’Aranjuez exaggerates. And, besides, I make speeches only when I am called upon to do so. Speeches are wasted in nine cases out of ten, too. They are, if I may say so, the music at the political ball. Sometimes the guests will dance, and sometimes they will not, but the musicians must try and suit the taste of the great invited. The dancing itself is the thing.”

“ Deeds, not words, ” suggested Maria Consuelo, glancing at Orsino, who chanced to be looking at her.

“That is a good motto enough,” he said gloomily.

“Deeds may need explanation post facto, ” remarked Del Ferice, unconsciously making such a direct allusion to recent events that Orsino looked sharply at him, and Maria Consuelo smiled.

“That is true, ” she said.

“And when you need any one to help you, it is necessary to explain your purpose beforehand,” continued Del Ferice. “That is what happens so often in politics, and in other affairs of life as well. If a man takes money from me without my consent, he steals; but if I agree to his taking it, the transaction becomes a gift or a loan. A despotic government steals; a constitutional one borrows or receives free offerings. The fact that the despot pays interest on a part of what he steals raises him to the position of the magnanimous brigand who leaves his victims just enough money to carry them to the nearest town. Possibly it is after all a quibble of definitions, and the difference may not be so great as it seems at first sight. But then, all morality is but the shadow cast on one side or the other of a definition.” “Surely that is not your political creed! ” said Maria Consuelo.

“Certainly not, madame, certainly not,” answered Del Ferice, in gentle protest. “It is not a creed at all, but only a very poor explanation of the way in which most experienced people look upon the events of their day. The idea in which we believe is very different from the results it has brought about, and very much higher, and very much better. But the results are not all bad, either. Unfortunately the bad ones are on the surface, and the good ones, which are enduring, must be sought in places where the honest sunshine has not yet dispelled the early shadows.”

Maria Consuelo smiled faintly, and the slight cast in her eye was more than usually apparent, as though her attention were wandering. Orsino said nothing, and wondered why Del Ferice continued to talk. The latter, indeed, was allowing himself to run on because neither of his hearers seemed inclined to make a remark which might serve to turn the conversation, and he began to suspect that something had occurred before his coming which had disturbed their equanimity.

He presently began to talk of people instead of ideas, for he had no intention of being thought a bore by Madame d’Aranjuez; and the man who is foolish enough to talk of anything but his neighbors, when he has more than one hearer, is in danger of being numbered with the tormentors.

Half an hour passed quickly enough after the common chord had been struck, and Del Ferice and Orsino exchanged glances of intelligence, meaning to go away together, as had been agreed. Del Ferice rose first, and Orsino took up his hat. To his surprise and consternation, Maria Consuelo made a quick and imperative sign to him to remain. Del Ferice’s dull blue eyes saw most things that happened within the range of their vision, and neither the gesture nor the look that accompanied it escaped him.

Orsino’s position was extremely awkward. He had put Del Ferice to some inconvenience on the understanding that they were to go away together, and he did not wish to offend him by not keeping his engagement. On the other hand, it was next to impossible to disobey Maria Consuelo, and to explain his difficulty to Del Ferice was wholly out of the question. He almost wished that the latter might have seen and understood the signal. But Del Ferice made no sign, and took Maria Consuelo’s offered hand in the act of leave-taking. Orsino grew desperate, and stood beside the two, holding his hat. Del Ferice turned to shake hands with him also.

“ But perhaps you are going, too ? ” he said, with a distinct interrogation.

Orsino glanced at Maria Consuelo as though imploring her permission to take his leave, but her face was impenetrable, calm, and indifferent. Del Ferice understood perfectly what was takingplace, but he found a moment while Orsino hesitated. If the latter had known how completely he was in Del Ferice’s power throughout the little scene, he would have then and there thrown over his financial schemes in favor of Maria Consuelo. But Del Ferice’s quiet, friendly manner did not suggest despotism, and he did not suffer Orsino’s embarrassment to last more than five seconds.

“I have a little proposition to make,” said the fat count, turning again to Maria Consuelo. “My wife and I are alone this evening. Will you not come and dine with us, madame? And you. Don Orsino, will you not come too ? We shall just make a party of four, if you will both come.”

“I shall he enchanted! ” exclaimed Maria Consuelo, without hesitation.

“ I shall be delighted! ” answered Orsino, with an alacrity which surprised himself. “At eight, then,” said Del Ferice, shaking hands with him again, and in a moment he was gone.

Orsino was too much confused, and too much delighted at having escaped so easily from his difficulty, to realize the importance of the step he was taking in going to Del Fence’s house, or to ask himself why the latter had so opportunely extended the invitation. He sat down in his place with a sigh of relief.

You have compromised yourself forever.”said Maria Consuelo, with a scornful laugh. “You, the blackest of the Black, are to be numbered henceforth with the acquaintances of Count Del Ferice and Donna Tullia. ”

“ What difference does it make ? Besides. I could not have done otherwise.”

“You might have refused the dinner. ”

“I could not possibly have done that. To accept was the only way out of a great difficulty. ”

“What difficulty?” asked Maria Consuelo relentlessly.

Orsino was silent, wondering how be could explain, as explain he must, without offending her.

“You should not do such things,” she said suddenly. “ I shall not always forgive you. ”

A gleam of light, which indeed promised little forgiveness, flashed in her eyes.

“What things? ” asked Orsino.

“Do not pretend that you think me so simple, ” she remarked, in a tone of irritation. “You and Del Ferice come here almost at the same moment. When he goes, you show the utmost anxiety to go, too. Of course you have agreed to meet here. It is evident. You might have chosen the steps of the hotel for your place of meeting instead of my sitting-room.”

The color rose slowly in her cheeksShe was handsome when she was angry.

“If I had imagined that you could be displeased ” — “Is it so surprising? Have you forgotten what happened yesterday? You should be on your knees asking my forgiveness for that; and instead you make a convenience of your visit to-day in order to meet a man of business. You have very strange ideas of what is due to a woman. ”

“Del Ferice suggested it,” said Orsino, “and I accepted the suggestion.”

“What is Del Ferice to me. that I should be made the victim of his suggestions, as you call them? Besides, he does not know anything of your folly of yesterday, and he has no right to suspect it.”

“I cannot tell you how Sorry I am.”

“And yet you ought to tell me, if you expect that I shall forget all this. You cannot? Then be so good as to do the only other sensible thing in your power, and leave me as soon as possible.”

“Forgive me, this once!” Orsino entreated in great distress, but not finding any words to express his sense of humiliation.

“You are not eloquent,” she said scornfully. “ You had better go. Do not come to the dinner this evening, either. I would rather not see you. You can easily make an excuse.”

Orsino recovered himself suddenly.

“I will not go away now, and I will not give up the dinner to-night, ” he said quietly.

“I cannot make you do either, but I can leave you, ” returned Maria Consuelo, with a movement as though she were about to rise from her chair.

“You will not do that.”

She raised her eyebrows in real or affected surprise at his persistence.

“You seem very sure of yourself,” she said, “Do not be so sure of me,”

“I am sure that I love you. Nothing else matters.” He leaned forward and took her hand so quickly that she had not time to prevent him. She tried to draw it away, but he held it fast.

“Let me go! ” she cried. “I will call, if you do not! ”

“Call all Rome, if you will, to see me ask your forgiveness. Consuelo, do not be so hard and cruel. If you only knew how I love you, you would be sorry for me; you would see how I hate myself, how I despise myself for all this” —

“You might show a little more feeling,” she said, making a final effort to disengage her hand, and then relinquishing the struggle.

Orsino wondered whether he were really in love with her or not. Somehow, the words he sought did not rise to his lips, and he was conscious that his speech was not of the same temperature, so to say, as his actions. There was something in Maria Consuelo’s manner which disturbed him disagreeably, like a cold draught blowing unexpectedly through a warm room. Still he held her hand and endeavored to rise to the occasion.

“Consuelo! ” he cried, in a beseechingtone. “Do not send me away; see how I am suffering; it is so easy for you to say that you forgive! ”

She looked at him a moment, and her eyelids drooped.

“ Will you let me go, if I forgive you ? ” she asked, in a low voice.

“Yes.”

“ I forgive you, then. Well ? Do you still hold my hand? ”

“Yes.”

Orsino leaned forward and tried to draw her toward him, looking into her eyes. She yielded a little, and their faces came a little nearer to each other, and still a little nearer. All at once a deep blush rose in her cheeks; she turned her head away and drew back quickly.

“Not for all the world! ” she cried, in a tone that was new to Orsino’s ear.

He tried to take her hand again, but she would not give it.

“No, no! Go, —you are not to be trusted! ” she cried, avoiding him. “Why are you so unkind ? ” he asked, almost passionately.

“I have been kind enough for this day, ” she answered. “ Pray go — do not stay any longer — I may regret it.”

“ My staying ? ”

“No, my kindness. And do not come again for the present. I would rather see you at Del Ferice’s than here.”

Orsino was quite unable to understand her behavior, and an older and more experienced man might have been almost as much puzzled as he. A long silence followed, during which he sat quite still, and she looked steadily at the cover of a book which lay on the table.

“Please go,” she said at last, in a voice which was not unkind.

Orsino rose from his seat and prepared to obey her. reluctantly enough, and feeling that he was out of tune with himself and with everything.

“Will you not even tell me why you send me away ? ” he asked.

“Because I wish to be alone,” she answered. “ Good-by. ”

She did not look up as he left the room, and when he was gone she did not move from her place, but sat as she had sat before, staring at the yellow cover of the novel on the table.

Orsino went home in a very unsettled frame of mind, and was surprised to find that the lighted streets looked less bright and cheerful than on the previous evening, and his own immediate prospects far less pleasing. He was angry with himself for having been so foolish as to make his visit to Maria Consuelo a mere appointment with Del Ferice, and he was surprised beyond measure to find himself all at once engaged in a social acquaintance with the latter, when he had meant only to enter into relations of business with him. Yet it did not occur to him that Del Ferice had in any way entrapped him into accepting the invitation. Del Ferice had saved him from a very awkward situation. Why? Because Del Ferice had seen the gesture Maria Consuelo had made, and had understood it, and wished to give Orsino another opportunity of discussing his project. But if Del Ferice had seen the quick sign, he had probably interpreted it in a way compromising to Madame d’Aranjuez. This was serious, although it was assuredly not Orsino’s fault if she compromised herself. She might have let him go without question, and since an explanation of some sort was necessary she might have waited until the next day to demand it of him. He resented what she had done, and yet within the last quarter of an hour he had been making a declaration of love to her. He was further conscious that the said declaration had been wholly lacking in spirit, in passion, and even in eloquence. He probably did not love her, after all, and, with an attempt at his favorite indifference, he tried to laugh at himself.

But the effort was not successful, and he felt something approaching to pain as he realized that there was nothing to laugh at. He remembered her eyes and her face and the tones of her voice, and he imagined that if he could turn back now and see her again he could say in one breath such things as would move a statue to kisses. The very phrases rose to his lips, and he repeated them to himself as he walked along.

Most unaccountable of all had been Maria Consuelo’s own behavior. Her chief preoccupation seemed to have been to get rid of him as soon as possible. She had been very seriously offended with him to-day, — much more deeply, indeed, than yesterday, though the cause appeared, to his inexperience, to be a far less adequate one. It was evident, he thought, that she had not really pardoned his want of tact, but had yielded to the necessity of giving a reluctant forgiveness, merely because she did not wish to break off her acquaintance with him. On the other hand, she had allowed him to say again and again that he loved her, and she had not forbidden him to call her by her name.

Orsino had always heard that it was hard to understand women, and he began to believe it. There was one hypothesis which he had not considered: it was faintly possible that Maria Consuelo loved him already, though he was slow to believe that, his vanity lying in another direction. But even if she did, matters were not clearer. The supposition could not account for her sending him away so abruptly and with such evident intention. If she loved him, she would naturally, he supposed, wish him to stay as long as possible. She had only wished to keep him long enough to tell him how angry she was. He resented that again, for he was in the humor to resent most things.

It was all extremely complicated, and Orsino began to think that he might find the complication less interesting than he had expected a few hours earlier. He had little time for reflection, either, since he was to meet both Maria Consuelo and Del Ferice at dinner. He felt as though the coming evening were in a measure to decide his future existence, and it was indeed destined to exercise a great influence upon his life, as any person not disturbed by the anxieties which beset him might easily have foreseen.

Before leaving the house he made an excuse to his mother, saying that he had unexpectedly been asked to dine with friends, and at the appointed hour he rang at Del Ferice’s door.

F. Marion Crawford.