There was no mistaking the tone in which the threat was uttered.  Spicca meant what he said, though not one syllable was spoken louder than another.  In his mouth the words had a terrific force, and told Orsino more of the man’s true nature than he had learnt in years.  Orsino was not easily impressed, and was certainly not timid, morally or physically; moreover he was in the prime of youth and not less skilful than other men in the use of weapons.  But he felt at that moment that he would infinitely rather attack a regiment of artillery single-handed than be called upon to measure swords with the cadaverous old invalid who sat on the other side of the table.

“It is not in my power to do any harm to Madame d’Aranjuez,” he answered proudly enough, “and you ought to know that if it were, it could not possibly be in my intention.  Therefore your threat is not intended for me.”

“Very good, Orsino.  Your father would have answered like that, and you mean what you say.  If I were young I think that you and I should be friends.  Fortunately for you there is a matter of forty years’ difference between our ages, so that you escape the infliction of such a nuisance as my friendship.  You must find it bad enough to have to put up with my company.”

“Do not talk like that,” answered Orsino.  “The world is not all vinegar.”

“Well, well—­you will find out what the world is in time.  And perhaps you will find out many other things which you want to know.  I must be going, for I have letters to write.  Checco!  My bill.”

Five minutes later they parted.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Although Orsino’s character was developing quickly in the new circumstances which he had created for himself, he was not of an age to be continually on his guard against passing impressions; still less could it be expected that he should be hardened against them by experience, as many men are by nature.  His conversation with Spicca, and Spicca’s own behaviour while it lasted, produced a decided effect upon the current of his thoughts, and he was surprised to find himself thinking more often and more seriously of Maria Consuelo than during the months which had succeeded her departure from Rome.  Spicca’s words had acted indirectly upon his mind.  Much that the old man had said was calculated to rouse Orsino’s curiosity, but Orsino was not naturally curious and though he felt that it would be very interesting to know Maria Consuelo’s story, the chief result of the Count’s half confidential utterances was to recall the lady herself very vividly to his recollection.