now. Nor did he reason about it at first, for he was not a great reasoner and his pleasures in life were really very few.
A moment or two after Vittoria had spoken, and when she had already turned away her face, Orsino shook his head almost imperceptibly, as though trying to throw something off which annoyed him. It was near the end of dinner before the two spoke to each other again, though Vittoria half turned towards him twice in the mean time, as though expecting him to speak, and then, disappointed, looked at her plate again.
'Are you going to stay in Rome, or shall you go back to Sicily?' he asked suddenly, not looking at her, but at the small white hand that touched the edge of the table beside him.
Vittoria started perceptibly at the sound of his voice, as though she had been in a reverie, and her hand disappeared at the same instant. Orsino found himself staring at the tablecloth, at the spot where it had lain.
'I think—I hope we shall stay in Rome,' she answered. 'My brother has a great deal of business here.'
'Yes. I know. He sees my cousin San Giacinto about it almost every day.'
'Yes.'
Her face grew thoughtful again, but not dreamily so as before, and she seemed to hesitate, as though she had more to say.
'What is it?' asked Orsino, encouraging her to go on.
'Perhaps I ought not to tell you. The Marchese wishes to buy Camaldoli of us.'
'What is Camaldoli?'
'It is the old country house where my mother and my brothers lived so long, while I was in the convent, after my father died. There is a little land. It was all we had until now.'
'Shall you be glad if it is sold, or sorry?' asked Orsino, thoughtfully, and watching her face.
'I shall be glad, I suppose,' she answered. 'It would have to be divided among us, they say. And it is half in ruins, and the land is worth nothing, and there are always brigands.'
Orsino laughed.
'Yes. I should think you might be very glad to get rid of it. There is no difficulty about it, is there?'
'Only—I have another brother. He likes it and has remained there. His name is Ferdinando. No one knows why he is so fond of the place. They need his consent, in order to sell it, and he will not agree.'
'I understand. What sort of a man is your brother Ferdinando?'
'I have not seen him for ten years. They are afraid of—I mean, he is afraid of nothing.'
There was something odd, Orsino thought, about the way the young girl shut her lips when she checked herself in the middle of the sentence, but he had no idea what she had been about to say. Just then Corona nodded slightly to the aged Prince at the other end of the table, and dinner was over.
'I should think it would be necessary for San Giacinto to see this other brother of yours,' observed Orsino, finishing the conversation as he rose and stood ready to take Vittoria out.
The little ungloved hand lay like a white butterfly on his black sleeve, and she had to raise her arm a little to take his, though she was not short. Just before them went San Giacinto, darkening the way like a figure of fate. Vittoria looked up at him, almost awe-struck at his mere size.
'How tall he is!' she exclaimed in a very low voice. 'How very tall he is!' she said again.
'We are used to him,' answered Orsino, with a short laugh. 'But he has a big heart, though he looks so grim.'
Half an hour later, when the men were smoking in a room by themselves, San Giacinto came and sat down by Orsino in the remote corner where the latter had established himself, with a cigarette. The giant, as ever of old, had a villainous-looking black cigar between his teeth.
'Do you want something to do?' he asked bluntly.
'Yes.'
'Do you care to live in Sicily for a time?'
'Anywhere—Japan, if you like.'
'You are easily pleased. That means that you are not in love just at present, I suppose.'
San Giacinto looked hard at his young cousin for some time, in silence. Orsino met his glance quietly, but with some curiosity.
'Do you ever go to see the Countess Del Ferice?' asked the big man at last.
Orsino straightened himself in his chair and frowned a little, and then looked away as he answered by a cross-question, knocking the ash off his cigarette upon a little rock crystal dish at his elbow.
'Why do you ask me that?' he inquired rather sternly.
'Because you were very much attracted by her once, and I wished to know whether you had kept up the acquaintance since her marriage.'
'I have kept up the acquaintance—and no more,' answered Orsino, meeting his cousin's eyes again. 'I go to see the Countess from time to time. I believe we are on very good terms.'
'Will you go to Sicily with me if I need you, and stay there, and get an estate in order for me?'
'With pleasure. When?'
'I do not know yet. It may be in a week, or it may be in a month. It will be hot there, and you will have troublesome things to do.'
'So much the better.'
'There are brigands in the neighbourhood just now.'
'That will be very amusing. I never saw one.'
'You may tell Ippolito if you like, but please do not mention it to anyone else until we are ready to go. You know that your mother will be anxious about you, and your father is a conservative—and your grandfather is a firebrand, if he dislikes an idea. One would think that at his age his temper should have subsided.'
'Not in the least!' Orsino smiled, for he loved the old man, and was proud of his great age.
'But you may tell Ippolito if you like, and if you warn him to be discreet. Ippolito would let himself be torn in pieces rather than betray a secret. He is by far the most discreet of you all.'
'Yes. You are right, as usual. You have a good eye for a good man. What do you think of all these Pagliuca people, or Corleone, or d'Oriani—or whatever they call themselves?' Orsino looked keenly at his cousin as he asked the question.
'Did you ever meet Corleone? I mean the one who married Norba's daughter—the uncle of these boys.'
'I met him once. From all accounts, he must have been a particularly disreputable personage.'
'He was worse than that, I think. I never blamed his wife. Well—these boys are his nephews. I do not see that any comment is necessary.' San Giacinto smiled thoughtfully.
'This young girl is also his niece,' observed Orsino rather sharply.
'Who knows what Tebaldo Pagliuca might have been if he had spent ten years
