Orsino's face changed and his voice took another tone when he spoke.
"Are you playing with me, Consuelo?" he asked gravely.
She started slightly and grew paler than before.
"You are not kind," she said. "I am suffering very much. Do not make it harder."
"I am suffering, too. You mean me to understand that you regret what happened yesterday and that you wish to take back your words, that whether you love me or not, you mean to act and appear as though you did not, and that I am to behave as though nothing had happened. Do you think that would be easy? And do you think I do not suffer at the mere idea of it?"
"Since it must be—"
"There is no must," answered Orsino with energy. "You would ruin your life and mine for the mere shadow of a memory which you choose to take for a binding promise. I will not let you do it."
"You will not?" She looked at him quickly with an expression of resistance.
"No—I will not," he repeated. "We have too much at stake. You shall not lose all for both of us."
"You are wrong, dear one," she said, with sudden softness. "If you love me, you should believe me and trust me. I can give you nothing but unhappiness—"