as he turned aside his head , since he could not bear to look at her beautiful , pleading face , he was suddenly attacked by suspicion . you wish to marry someone else ! he cried in a voice roughened by jealousy . she sighed deeply , and looked away . do you ? do you ? he repeated , fiercely . if , she said gently , giving him a look that set his pulses throbbing , if I wished to marry some young gallant , do you think I would ask your help ? you would be the last man I would ask . before he could collect his wits to reply to this , there was a bustle and confusion at the end of the room . Prince Doria had wearied of his toy and was packing it away in its painted coffer . the party was now preparing to see the tapestries , and in the general movement , Vittoria was separated from Orsini . although neither of them wished to follow the sightseers , there seemed no alternative . as she was about to mount a wide and shallow flight of marble stairs , she became aware of someone watching her intently , and turning in that direction , she saw Olimpia , standing beside her admirer , Orlando Cavalcanti . the young man was bending over her with the assiduity of a lover , but the girl appeared to be more interested in her cousin &apos;s wife , whom she was regarding through half-closed eyes . this was a slight shock to Vittoria , who had forgotten the existence of the girl , and , up to this moment had been unaware of the young man &apos;s presence at the palazzo . are you enjoying yourself , Olimpia ? she asked idly , tapping the girl &apos;s cheek lightly with her fan , in passing ; but she did not wait for the answer . disturbed by vague uneasiness , she was wondering whether Olimpia had been watching her talk with Orsini . surely she could not have overheard anything they said ? a moment &apos;s reflection reassured her on that point , for she was certain no one had been standing near them . however , something inimical in the girl &apos;s look put Vittoria on guard . Santa Maria ! these spying eyes ! she thought , bitterly . Doria was continually stopping on the way , to point out , with childish pride , objects of beauty or interest . Vittoria , on the fringe of the party , caught snatches of this information , which held no interest for her : &amp;hellip; now this sapphire &amp;hellip; . I like to think it may have fallen from the dark hair of the Empress Messalina , as she crouched in terror in the gardens of Lucullus , awaiting the sword of the executioner . ah ! exclaimed Farnese , with a snigger . the old cuckold Claudius had the last word , after all . he knew how to deal with an adulterous wife , eh , Orsini ? if the duke made any reply to this , Vittoria did not hear it . now they entered the long gallery where they dispersed and wandered around , admiring and commenting on the glowing hues and barbaric splendours of the tapestries Doria had brought back from Lepanto . after a short interval , Orsini found an opportunity to rejoin Vittoria . we must talk further , he said in a low urgent voice . where ? be careful , she whispered from behind her fan . Olimpia is watching us . the young man with her is Orlando Cavalcanti , Francesco &apos;s friend . Orsini shot an impatient glance at the couple . the young man with the mole ? yes , indeed . no matter . they are not looking at us . now I must know , he whispered , what you meant , cara mia . do you want your freedom in order to marry ? before replying to this , she glanced hastily around , then spoke in tones so low that he had to bend his head to hear : I will never be any man &apos;s mistress . as to marrying again &amp;hellip; if I were free ... there is only one man I would wish to marry &amp;hellip; but ... he , like myself , is now bound . with a swift gesture she closed her fan and moved away from him towards the group in the centre of the gallery , leaving him standing alone , against that glowing , barbaric background , with a deeply thoughtful expression on his face . chapter six . on a bright unclouded morning a few days after the visit to the Doria Palace , the cardinal &apos;s coach left the villa , lurched over the unpaved track and turned towards the ruined baths of Diocletian . Vittoria , accompanied by her maid , Lucia , was on her way to the Accoramboni villa , ostensibly to pay a daughterly call on her father , actually to coax money from that indulgent parent to settle her mounting debts . Lucia was thinking how beautiful her mistress looked , and how cunningly the olive-green dress with its underskirt of rose-brocade fitted her perfect figure . Vittoria &apos;s thoughts were more complex . the sparkling society of the Doria Palace , the flattery of Orsini &apos;s obsession , the thwarted ambitions of her restless spirit , all threw into sharp relief the contrast of her grey life with the splendid one that filled her dreams . at the Villa Montalto she felt an alien , and although she had repeatedly urged Francesco to give her a separate establishment , he invariably pleaded his financial dependence on his uncle , who had built the villa for his family . he reminded her that they must abide by Roman custom , and dwell there with their relations . her values were those of the materialist who assesses every human being in terms of fame , power and wealth . Francesco she despised for his dullness , his lack of initiative , his subservience to his uncle . her husband &apos;s gentleness and amiability , his unselfish love for her , she regarded as signs of weakness . he was a futile creature who had not even proved capable of giving her a child . whatever passion she had experienced in the first months of marriage had been ousted by contempt . she had never loved him . her thoughts rushed to Orsini . since the meeting in the Doria Palace , no word had come from him , and this silence oppressed her spirits with a weight of misgiving . she had , perhaps , demanded too much . the kiss in the garden had plumbed unsuspected depths in her , and she knew that if she yielded to him , her passion could , indeed , match his . every instinct urged her to surrender , for there was that in his nature to which her own had responded as it had responded to no other human being . prudence , ambition and reason had held instinct in check , and they must dictate her course . there could be no compromise . for a brief interval she allowed herself the luxury of dreams . she began to imagine life at Bracciano , the balls and f&amp;ecirc;tes , the conversation of poets and dilettanti . she visualized the pageantry of the tournament , and herself on the ducal dais beside Orsini , placing a chaplet of roses on the brows of some young conqueror in the lists . this reverie was rudely ended as the coach gave a sickening jolt and came to an abrupt stop , nearly throwing the two girls from their seats . Lucia uttered a cry of alarm . look , madonna , we are surrounded ! it was true . men armed with pikes and daggers swarmed about them and a lean , swarthy fellow was peering through the window , grinning impudently . Santa Maria ! shrieked Lucia . banditti ! Vittoria now realized that they were outside Santa Maria degli Angeli , and that except for a few beggars crouching in the doorway of the church and exhibiting loathsome sores , the area was deserted . they are not banditti , Lucia , said Vittoria , pointing to the badge on the man &apos;s shoulder . the words were clear . beware my hug ! Lucia stared speechlessly at the golden bear ; Vittoria swiftly averted her head to avoid the impertinent glance of the retainer . her thoughts at this moment were chaotic . the coach now turned in another direction , towards the wild and desolate region behind the baths . it was sparsely inhabited , dotted with fallow fields and terraced vineyards , and here and there jutted a brown outcrop of flower-wreathed ruins , a pathetic reminder of Rome &apos;s former greatness . in this region of Monti most of the public baths had been built in the time of the Caesars , but with the breaking of the aqueducts during the barbarian invasions the baths had lost their purpose ; they had become stone quarries and their precious marble had been burnt for lime . now escaped criminals and bandits used these quarries as hiding places , to the danger of travellers in the district . as they lumbered past at a rattling pace , Vittoria could see a wisp of smoke curling above the fire of a gypsy encampment and a few tatterdemalion creatures gathered about it , cooking their frugal meal . these were left far behind . an old man belabouring an overladen donkey , and a withered crone appeared on the horizon , were overtaken and forgotten . except for their escort , Vittoria and Lucia might have been the only living creatures on an empty planet . after the initial shock , Vittoria felt calm . she knew exactly what she wanted , and was prepared to take it without scruple , if she could . what she had forgotten in her self-absorption in her own schemes was that other people were equally absorbed in their schemes , which were likely to run counter to her own . this move today was a reminder of that fact . whilst she automatically patted the hand of the agitated Lucia , her brain was working rapidly , and she decided that she must be prepared to counter Orsini &apos;s demands , difficult though that would be . she became aware that the pace was slackening ; now the coach stopped . the moment had come . upon the ensuing interview the future would depend . outwardly she was calm , but her heart was beating fast , and the palms of her hands were damp . Orsini &apos;s high-crowned hat with its jaunty plume blotted out the light ; his hand was on the door . glancing at Lucia he said in French to Vittoria : your maid &amp;hellip; is she reliable ? she shrugged her shoulders , and replied in the same language : yes . but make it worth her while . I see . I know how to deal with people like that , and turning to the cowering Lucia , he spoke in her own language . do you know who I am ? no , signor , she whispered . I am the Orsini . my word is law in Rome . Lucia was regarding him as a rabbit looks at a stoat . thrusting his head farther into the coach , he said sombrely : have you ever heard of a punishment called the cord ? she blanched and shrank away . was there not a street near Sant&apos; Angelo called the Lane of the Corda where criminals were hoisted by their wrists forty , fifty , sixty feet into the air , and dropped again and again , until their arms were wrenched from their sockets . you have heard of it ? the Orsini give that to traitors . there is no escaping the vengeance of an Orsini . we hunt a traitor down to the ends of the earth , and no power can save him &amp;hellip; or her . do you understand ? yes , signor , she faltered . on the other hand , he continued , giving her a keen look , the Orsini are generous to those who serve them faithfully . remember that , my girl . Lucia was beyond speech . he turned to Vittoria , sitting erect , with flushed cheeks and eyes sparkling with anger . and now , madonna , he said smoothly , we will continue the conversation started at the Doria Palace . be pleased to alight . I think , she replied coolly , I prefer to stay where I am . in that case , he reverted to French , I shall be obliged to lift you from the coach . without answering him , she rose , and bending over the agitated girl , said softly : no one will harm you , Lucia . remain here . ignoring his proffered hand , she stepped from the vehicle . will you be so good as to order your men not to molest my maid , she said coldly to Orsini . she is absolutely safe , he replied ; but he turned , nevertheless , to the man who had peered into the coach , whom he had addressed as Luigi , and gave him sharp instructions on the matter . Vittoria stood looking about her , breathing the scent of thyme . the land at her feet sloped away into a tiny valley beyond which , on the crest of a wooded hill-side , the ruins of a small temple were etched against the clear blue of the sky . 