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And I was always miserably conscious that Consuelo possessed an exalted sentimentality, and a predilection for the highest mediaeval romance, in which I knew I was lamentably deficient. Even in our most confidential moments I was always aware that I weakly lagged behind this daughter of a gloomily distinguished ancestry, in her frequent incursions into a vague but poetic past.
I retain a very vivid picture of that walk the ascent of a gentle slope towards a prospect as yet unknown, but full of glorious possibilities; the tender dropping light of an autumn sky, slightly filmed with the promise of the future rains, like foreshadowed tears, and the half frightened, half serious talk into which Consuelo and I had insensibly fallen.
The frequency of these exhibitions in the public highway were not only distressing to me as a simple escort, but as it had the effect on the casual spectators of making Consuelo seem to participate in Chu Chu's objections, I felt that, as a lover, it could not be borne. Any attempt to coerce Chu Chu ended in her running away. And my frantic pursuit of her was open to equal misconstruction.
It is possible that Maria Consuelo discovered this. But she made no profession of analysis, and while appearing outwardly far colder than Orsino, she seemed much more disposed than he to yield to unexpected impulses when she felt their influence. And Orsino was quite unconscious that he might be exhibiting the defects of his moral nature to eyes keener than his own.
But he announced his intention of joining her before long, and expressed the certainty that she would receive him. To this Maria Consuelo made no reply for some time. When she wrote at last, it was to say that she had carefully considered her decision and saw no good cause for changing it. To Orsino her tone seemed colder and more distant than ever.
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?
The question seemed to be, whether he loved Maria Consuelo or not, since he was able to display such apparent indifference to her absence. In reality he also doubted whether he was loved by her, and the one uncertainty was fully as great as the other. He went over all that had passed.
Donna Tullia had indeed been near to marrying Giovanni, and in that sense, too, she might have been Orsino's mother. "I fancied you spoke rather disparagingly," said Maria Consuelo with a certain degree of interest. "I? No indeed. On the contrary, Don Orsino is a very fine fellow but thrown away, positively thrown away in his present surroundings.
She softly opened the door, looked at him once more and went out. When he realised that she was gone he sprang after her, calling her by name. "Consuelo!" There were a few people walking in the broad passage. They stared at Orsino, but he did not heed them as he passed by. Maria Consuelo was not there, and he understood in a moment that it would be useless to seek her further.
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 "
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