The two men went back to the drawing-room where Donna Tullia and Maria Consuelo were discussing the complicated views of the almighty dressmaker. Orsino knew that there was little chance of his speaking a word alone with Madame d'Aranjuez and resigned himself to the effort of helping the general conversation. Fortunately the time to be got over in this way was not long, as all four had engagements in the evening. Maria Consuelo rose at half-past ten, but Orsino determined to wait five minutes longer, or at least to make a show of meaning to do so. But Donna Tullia put out her hand as though she expected him to take his leave at the same time. She was going to a ball and wanted at least an hour in which to screw her magnificence up to the dancing pitch.
The consequence was that Orsino found himself helping Maria Consuelo into the modest hired conveyance which awaited her at the gate. He hoped that she would offer him a seat for a short distance, but he was disappointed.
"May I come to-morrow?" he asked, as he closed the door of the carriage. The night was not cold and the window was down.
"Please tell the coachman to take me to the Via Nazionale," she said quickly.
"What number?"
"Never mind—he knows—I have forgotten. Good-night."
She tried to draw up the window, but Orsino held his hand on it.
"May I come to-morrow?" he asked again.
"No."
"Are you angry with me still?"