My honour is concerned.

I must leave this place.

I trust you will remain my guest here, though in the absence of your host.
You know that I have engaged the apartment for the next three months." "Humph!" said Ferrers, "as that is the case I may as well stay here.
But why so secret?
Have you seduced Madame de Ventadour, or has her wise husband his suspicions?
Hein, hein!" Maltravers smothered his disgust at this coarseness; and, perhaps, there is no greater trial of temper than in a friend's gross remarks upon the connection of the heart.
"Ferrers," said he, "if you care for me, breathe not a word disrespectful to Madame de Ventadour: she is an angel!" "But why leave Naples ?" "Trouble me no more." "Good day, sir," said Ferrers, highly offended, and he stalked out of the chamber; nor did Ernest see him again before his departure.
It was late that evening when Maltravers found himself alone in his carriage, pursuing by starlight the ancient and melancholy road to Mola di Gaeta.
His solitude was a luxury to Maltravers; he felt an inexpressible sense of relief to be freed from Ferrers.

The hard sense, the unpliant, though humorous imperiousness, the animal sensuality of his companion would have been torture to him in his present state of mind.
The next morning, when he rose, the orange blossoms of Mola di Gaeta were sweet beneath the window of the inn where he rested.

It was now the early spring, and the freshness of the odour, the breathing health of earth and air, it is impossible to describe.