In the days which followed Maria Consuelo’s departure, Orsino came to a state of indifference which surprised himself.  He remembered that when she had gone away in the spring he had scarcely missed her, and that he had not thought his own coldness strange, since he was sure that he had not loved her then.  But that he had loved her now, during her last stay in Rome, he was sure, and he would have despised himself if he had not been able to believe that he loved her still.  Yet, if he was not glad that she had quitted him, he was at least strangely satisfied at being left alone, and the old fancy for analysis made him try to understand himself.  The attempt was fruitless, of course, but it occupied his thoughts.

He met Spicca in the street, and avoided him.  He imagined that the old man must despise him for not having resisted and followed Maria Consuelo after all.  The hypothesis was absurd and the conclusion vain, but he could not escape the idea, and it annoyed him.  He was probably ashamed of not having acted recklessly, as a man should who is dominated by a master passion, and yet he was inwardly glad that he had not been allowed to yield to the first impulse.

The days succeeded each other and a week passed away, bringing Saturday again and the necessity for a visit to the bank.  Business had been in a very bad state since it had been known that Montevarchi was ruined.  So far, he had not stopped payment and although the bank refused discount he had managed to find money with which to meet his engagements.  Probably, as San Giacinto had foretold, he would pay everything and remain a very poor man indeed.  But, although many persons knew this, confidence was not restored.  Del Ferice declared that he believed Montevarchi solvent, as he believed every one with whom his bank dealt to be solvent to the uttermost centime, but that he could lend no more money to any one on any condition whatsoever, because neither he nor the bank had any to lend.  Every one, he said, had behaved honestly, and he proposed to eclipse the honesty of every one by the frank acknowledgment of his own lack of cash.  He was distressed, he said, overcome by the sufferings of his friends and clients, ready to sell his house, his jewelry and his very boots, in the Roman phrase, to accommodate every one; but he was conscious that the demand far exceeded any supply which he could furnish, no matter at what personal sacrifice, and as it was therefore impossible to help everybody, it would be unjust to help a few where all were equally deserving.

In the meanwhile he proved the will of his deceased wife, leaving him about four and a half millions of francs unconditionally, and half a million more to be devoted to some public charity at Ugo’s discretion, for the repose of Donna Tullia’s unquiet spirit.  It is needless to say that the sorrowing husband determined to spend the legacy magnificently in the improvement of the town represented by him in parliament.