She cast a frightened glance about the square, which was almost deserted, and began to walk slowly on.
"Why was the door shut with the key?" asked Florio, his head near to hers. "I thought I would break it open And I wish I had done so," he added, suddenly fierce again.
"I have given you no right," stammered Olga, who seemed to suffer under a sort of fascination, which dulled her mind.
"I take it!—Has he a right? Tell me that! You are not good to me; you are not honest to me; you deceive—deceive! Why was the door shut with the key? I am astonished! I did not think this was done in England—a lady—a young lady!"
"Oh, what do you mean?" Olga exclaimed, with a face of misery. "There was no harm. It wasn't I who wished it to be locked!"
Florio gazed at her long and searchingly, till the blood burned in her face.
"Enough!" he said with decision, waving his arm. "I have learnt something. One always learns something new in England. The English are wonderful—yes, they are wonderful. Basta! and addio!"
He raised his hat, turned, moved away. As if drawn irresistibly, Olga followed. Head down, arms hanging in the limpness of shame, she followed, but without drawing nearer. At the corner of the square, Florio, as if accidentally, turned his head; in an instant, he stood before her.
"Then you do not wish good-bye?"
"You are very cruel! How can I let you think such things? You know it's false!"