Yes, Signor Elgar was in his chamber; he had entered but a quarter of an hour since. The signor seemed not quite well, unhappily--said Olimpia, the domestic, in her chopped Neapolitan. Mallard vouchsafed no reply. He knocked sharply at the big solid door. There was a cry of "Avanti!" and he entered. Elgar advanced a few steps. He did not affect to smile, but looked directly at his visitor, who--as if all the pain of the interview were on him rather than the other--cast down his eyes. "I was expecting you," said Reuben, without offering his hand. "So was I you--three days ago." "Sit down, and let us talk. I'm ashamed of myself, Mallard. I ought at all events to have written." "One would have thought so." "Have you seen Mrs. Lessingham?" "Yes." "Then you understand everything. I repeat that I am ashamed of my behaviour to you. For days--since last Saturday--I have been little better than a madman. On Saturday I went to say good-bye to Mrs. Lessingham and her niece; it was _bona fide_, Mallard." "In your sense of the phrase. Go on." "I tell you, I then meant to leave Naples," pursued Elgar, who had repeated this so often to himself, by way of palliation, that he had come to think it true. "It was not my fault that I couldn't when that visit was over. It happened that I saw Miss Doran alone--sat talking with her till her aunt returned." Mrs. Lessingham had made no mention of this little matter. Hearing of it, Mallard ejaculated mentally, "Idiot!" "It was all over with me. I broke faith with you--as I should have done with any man; as I should have done if the lives of a hundred people had depended on my coming. I didn't write, because I preferred not to write lies, and if I had told the truth, I knew you would come at once. To be sure, silence might have had the same result, but I had to risk something, and I risked that." "I marvel at your disinclination to lie." "What do you mean by saying that?" broke out Elgar, with natural warmth. "I mean simply what I say. Go on." "After all, Mallard, I don't quite know why you should take this tone with me. If a man falls in love, he thinks of nothing but how to gain his end; I should think even you can take that for granted. My broken promise is a trifle in view of what caused it." "Again, in _your_ view. In mine it is by no means a trifle. It distinguishes you from honourable men, that's all; a point of some moment, I should think, when your character is expressly under discussion." "You mean, of course, that I am not worthy of Cecily. I can't grant any such conclusion." "Let us leave that aside for the present," said Mallard. "Will you tell me how it came to pass that you met Miss Doran and her companions at Pompeii?" Elgar hesitated; whereupon the other added quickly: "If it was with Miss Doran's anticipation, I want no details." "No, it wasn't." Their looks met. "By chance, then, of course?" said Mallard, sourly. Elgar spoke on an impulse, leaning forward.