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Out with it, I say!" "I would rather talk about business. I think it is all over now." "Just like your father always full of secrets! As if I did not know all about it. You are in love with that Madame d'Aranjuez." Orsino turned a little pale. "Please do not call her 'that' Madame d'Aranjuez," he said, gravely. "Eh? What? Are you so sensitive about her?" "Yes." "You are? Very well I like that.
"What sort of person is he?" inquired Spicca, evidently for the sake of making conversation. "Contini is a man of business," Orsino answered. "An odd fellow, full of talent, and a musical genius. One would not expect very much of him at first, but he will do all that Madame d'Aranjuez needs." "Otherwise you would not have recommended him, I suppose," said Spicca.
Nor did Madame d'Aranjuez actually ask his help at every turn, any more than she made any difficulty about accepting it. There was a tacit understanding between them which did away with all necessity for inventing excuses on the one hand, or for the affectation of fearing to inconvenience Orsino on the other.
"A man who can jump through the paper ring of Roman prejudice without stumbling must be nimble and have good legs. So nobody gave you a word of encouragement?" "Only one person, at first. I think you know her Madame d'Aranjuez. I used to see her often just at that time." "Madame d'Aranjuez?" Spicca looked up sharply, pausing with his glass in his hand. "You know her?"
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 neighbours, when he has more than one hearer, is in danger of being numbered with the tormentors.
And the statement certainly changed the face of the situation. Orsino admitted to himself that he had never before thought of marrying Madame d'Aranjuez. He had not even taken into consideration the consequences of loving her and of being loved by her in return.
It was a nice question, and while trying to make conversation he weighed the arguments in his mind. Strange to say he decided in favour of Spicca. The decision was to some extent an index of the state of his feelings towards Madame d'Aranjuez. If he had been quite in love with her, he would have stayed. If he had wished to make her love him, he would have stayed also.
He was exchanging indifferent remarks with Donna Tullia, while Del Ferice looked on benignantly, and all three waited for Madame d'Aranjuez. Five minutes had not elapsed before she came, and her appearance momentarily dispelled Orsino's annoyance at his own rashness.
Short of laying violent hands upon me, you will find it quite impossible to provoke me. I am almost old enough to be your grandfather, and I understand you very well. You love Madame d'Aranjuez. She knows that to marry you would be to bring about such a quarrel with your family as might ruin half your life, and she has the rare courage to tell you so and to refuse your offer.
Orsino noticed all these details as he stood waiting for Madame d'Aranjuez to appear, and they were not without interest to him, for each one told a story, and the stories were contradictory. The room was not encumbered with those numberless objects which most women scatter about them within an hour after reaching a hotel. Yet Madame d'Aranjuez must have been at least a month in Rome.
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