Orsino looked away, and then turned to her again, his glance drawn back to her by something he could not resist.
'Vittoria,' he began in a very low tone.
He had never called her by that name before. The quadrille was very noisy, and she did not understand. She leaned forward anxiously towards him when she spoke.
'What did you say? I did not hear. The music makes such a noise!'
The man was more than ever irritated at the sound; and as she bent over to him, he could almost feel her breath on his cheek. The blood rose in him, and he sprang to his feet impatiently.
'Come!' he said. 'Come outside! We cannot even hear each other here.'
Vittoria rose, too, without a word, and went with him, walking close beside him, and glancing at his face. She was excessively pale now; and all the golden light seemed to have faded at once, even from her hair and eyes, till she looked delicate and almost fragile beside the big dark man.
'Out of doors?' she asked timidly, at the threshold.
'Yes—it is very warm,' answered Orsino, in a voice that was a little hoarse.
Once out on the bridge, in the shadow, over the dark street, he stopped, and instantly his hand found hers and closed all round it, covering it altogether.