I am no match for you in
birth, Orsino--"
The young man interrupted her now, and fiercely.
"Do you dare to think that I care what your birth may be?" he asked.
"There are those who do care, even if you do not, dear one," she
answered quietly.
"And what is their caring to you or me?"
"It is not so small a matter as you think. I am not talking of a mere
difference in rank. It is worse than that. I do not really know who I
am. Do you understand? I do not know who my mother was nor whether she
is alive or dead, and before I was married I did not bear my father's
name."
"But you know your father--you know his name at least?"
"Yes."
"Who is he?" Orsino could hardly pronounce the words of the question.
"Count Spicca."
Maria Consuelo spoke quietly, but her fingers trembled nervously and
she watched Orsino's face in evident distress and anxiety. As for
Orsino, he was almost dumb with amazement.
"Spicca! Spicca your father!" he repeated indistinctly.
In all his many speculations as to the tie which existed between Maria
Consuelo and the old duellist, he had never thought of this one.
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