“I was passing at the time of the hailstorm, and came in for shelter,” Tarsis continued, feigning the tone of one who felt obliged to explain an intrusion. “I saw your horses out there, and recognising one of them, I judged that Donna Hera was near by. Uncertain of the other horse, I jumped to the natural--possibly you will say foolish--conclusion that it was her father’s.” He paused again, and waited for one of the others to speak, but both remained silent. “I say this much in extenuation of the fact that I began to look about in search of my friends,” Tarsis went on, retaining his tone of apology. “Otherwise it might appear that I was spying upon my promised wife. I assure you that it never occurred to me to set a watch upon you, Donna Hera. At the door I saw you and--waited until the scene should come to an end. I have been waiting some time. I hope my conduct in the somewhat trying situation meets with your approval--yours, Donna Hera, and yours, _Honourable_ Forza?” He gave the “Honourable” a long-drawn emphasis on the first syllable, and the sound came back in a blood-chilling echo from the glistening damp walls. Mario moved forward and looked him squarely in the eye. “Signor Tarsis,” he began, his voice without a quaver, “I am sorry, helplessly sorry. We are confronted with an invincible fact of life. I love Donna Hera. She loves me. By every natural law we belong to each other.” A flush of anger overspread the face of Tarsis. He returned a derisive laugh and put on his cap. “Law of nature, eh!” he flung back. “Society is not governed by laws of nature, and will not be until your anarchistic wishes prevail!” “Do you mean,” Mario asked, retaining his self-control, “that after what you have seen and what I have told you it is still your intention to hold Donna Hera to her engagement?” “I will not answer your question,” Tarsis replied, snapping his upturned fingers at Mario in the Southern manner. “Whatever my intention may be is not your affair. It is a subject for myself and my promised wife. Of course, you will have some theory about what I ought to do,” he added, his lip curving to the sneer. Humanly sensible that the other’s provocation was great, Mario quelled the words of resentment that came to his tongue, and said, calmly: “There is no question of theory here. It is a fact inexorable.” “And one, I suppose, in which I am not to be reckoned with,” Tarsis retorted, his mouth twitching and his thick neck red with the mounting blood. “You plot to rob me of the woman who is pledged to me--you do me the greatest wrong one man can do another--and you call it a fact inexorable. Bah! I know your breed! My factories are full of fellows like you!”