"The Signor Commendatore is not coming this morning," answered the man mysteriously.
Orsino went back to the head clerk, interrupting his conversation with the others. He inquired if it were true that Del Ferice were not coming.
"It is not probable," answered the clerk with a grave face. "They say that the Signora Contessa is not likely to live through the day."
"Is Donna Tullia ill?" asked Orsino in considerable astonishment.
"She returned from Naples yesterday morning, and was taken ill in the afternoon—it is said to be apoplexy," he added in a low voice. "If you will have patience Signor Principe, I will be at your disposal in five minutes."
Orsino was obliged to be satisfied and sat down again by Contini. He told him the news of Del Ferice's wife.
"That will make matters worse," said Contini.
"It will not improve them," answered Orsino indifferently. "Considering the state of affairs I would like to see Del Ferice before speaking with any of the others."
"Those men are all involved with Prince Montevarchi," observed Contini, watching the group of which the head clerk was the central figure. "You can see by their faces what they think of the business. The short, grey haired man is the steward—the big man is the architect. The others are contractors. They say it is not less than thirty millions."
Orsino said nothing. He was thinking of Maria Consuelo and wishing that he could get away from Rome that night, while admitting that there was no possibility of such a thing. Meanwhile the head clerk's gestures to his interlocutors expressed more and more helplessness. At last they went out in a body.