"I shall walk."

"So much the better. Good-bye, Monsieur Gouache."

"Why say, Monsieur?"

"As you like--you are older than I."

"I? Who has told you that legend? It is only a myth. When you are sixty
years old, I shall still be five-and-twenty."

"And I?" enquired Madame d'Aragona, who was still young enough to laugh
at age.

"As old as you were yesterday, not a day older."

"Why not say to-day?"

"Because to-day has a to-morrow--yesterday has none."

"You are delicious, my dear Gouache. Good-bye."

Madame d'Aragona went out with Orsino, and they descended the broad
staircase together. Orsino was not sure whether he might not be showing
too much anxiety to remain in the company of his new acquaintance, and
as he realised how unpleasant it would be to sacrifice the walk with
her, he endeavoured to excuse to himself his derogation from his
self-imposed character of cool superiority and indifference. She was
very amusing, he said to himself, and he had nothing in the world to do.