"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!"
"But there must be explanation!"
"I can easily explain. But not here--one can't talk in the street
----"
"Naturally!--Listen! It is twelve o'clock. You go home; you eat:
you repose. At three o'clock, I pay you a visit.
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