"No, indeed. You never tease me with questions—nor does my father either, for that matter. Would you really like to know what I am doing?"
"If you will tell me."
"I am building a house," said Orsino, looking at her to see the effect of the announcement.
"A house?" repeated Corona in surprise. "Where? Does your father know about it?"
"He said he did not care what I did." Orsino spoke rather bitterly.
"That does not sound like him, my dear. Tell me all about it. Have you quarrelled with him, or had words together?"
Orsino told his story quickly, concisely and with a frankness he would perhaps not have shown to any one else in the world, for he did not even conceal his connection with Del Ferice. Corona listened intently, and her deep eyes told him plainly enough that she was interested. On his part he found an unexpected pleasure in telling her the tale, and he wondered why it had never struck him that his mother might sympathise with his plans and aspirations. When he had finished, he waited for her first word almost as anxiously as he would have waited for an expression of opinion from Maria Consuelo.
Corona did not speak at once. She looked into his eyes, smiled, patted his lean brown hand lovingly and smiled again before she spoke.
"I like it," she said at last. "I like you to be independent and determined. You might perhaps have chosen a better man than Del Ferice for your adviser. He did something once—well, never mind! It was long ago and it did us no harm."
"What did he do, mother? I know my father wounded him in a duel before you were married—"