Part 28 (1/2)

Pasquale happened to have been right in two guesses out of three, and Zorzi thought it better to say nothing. There was no fear that the surly old man would tell any one of the message; he had proved himself too good a friend to Zorzi to do anything which could possibly bring him into trouble, and Zorzi was willing to let him think what he pleased, rather than run the smallest risk of betraying the society of which he had been obliged to become a member. But he was curious to know why Contarini kept such a singularly unprepossessing servant, and why, if he chose to keep him, he made use of him to deliver invitations. The fellow had the look of a born criminal; he was just such a man as Zorzi had thought of when he had jestingly proposed to Giovanni to hire a murderer. Indeed, the more Zorzi thought of his face, the more he was inclined to doubt that the man came from Contarini at all.

But in this he was mistaken. The message was genuine, and moreover, so far as Contarini and the society were concerned, the man was perfectly trustworthy. Possibly there were reasons why Contarini chose to employ him, and also why the servant was so consistently faithful to his master. After all, Zorzi reflected, he was certainly ignorant of the fact that the n.o.ble young idlers who met at the house of the Agnus Dei were playing at conspiracy and revolution.

But that night, when Contarini's friends were a.s.sembled and had counted their members, some one asked what had become of the Murano gla.s.s-blower, and whether he was not going to attend their meetings in future; and Contarini answered that Zorzi had hurt his foot and was on crutches, and sent a greeting to the guests. Most of them were glad that he was not there, for he was not of their own order, and his presence caused a certain restraint in their talk. Besides, he was poor, and did not play at dice.

”He works with Angelo Beroviero, does he not?” asked Zuan Venier in a tone of weary indifference.

”Yes,” answered Contarini with a laugh. ”He is in the service of my future father-in-law.”

”To whom may heaven accord a speedy, painless and Christian death!” laughed Foscari in his black beard.

”Not till I am one of his heirs, if you please,” returned Contarini. ”As soon after the wedding day as you like, for besides her rich dowry, the lady is to have a share of his inheritance.”

”Is she very ugly?” asked Loredan. ”Poor Jacopo! You have the sympathy of the brethren.”

”How does he know?” sneered Mocenigo. ”He has never seen her. Besides, why should he care, since she is rich?”

”You are mistaken, for I have seen her,” said Contarini, looking down the table. ”She is not at all ill-looking, I a.s.sure you. The old man was so much afraid that I would not agree to the match that he took her to church so that I might look at her.”

”And you did?” asked Mocenigo. ”I should never have had the courage. She might have been hideous, and in that case I should have preferred not to find it out till I was married.”

”I looked at her with some interest,” said Contarini, smiling in a self-satisfied way. ”I am bound to say, with all modesty, that she also looked at me,” he added, pa.s.sing his white hand over his thick hair.

”Of course,” put in Foscari gravely. ”Any woman would, I should think.”

”I suppose so,” answered Contarini complacently. ”It is not my fault if they do.”

”Nor your misfortune,” added Fosoari, with as much gravity as before.

Zuan Venier had not joined in the banter, which seemed to him to be of the most atrocious taste. He had liked Zorzi and had just made up his mind to go to Murano the next day and find him out.

On that evening there was not so much as a mention of what was supposed to bring them together. Before they had talked a quarter of an hour, some one began to throw dice on the table, playing with his right hand against his left, and in a few moments the real play had begun.

High up in Arisa's room the Georgian woman and Aristarchi heard all that was said, crouching together upon the floor beside the opening the slave had discovered. When the voices were no longer heard except at rare intervals, in short exclamations of satisfaction or disappointment, and only the regular rattling and falling of the dice broke the silence, the pair drew back from the praying-stool.

”They will say nothing more to-night,” whispered Arisa. ”They will play for hours.”

”They had not said a word that could put their necks in danger,” answered Aristarchi discontentedly. ”Who is this fellow from the gla.s.s-house, of whom they were speaking?”

Arisa led him away to a small divan between the open windows. She sat down against the cus.h.i.+ons at the back, but he stretched his bulk upon the floor, resting his head against her knee. She softly rubbed his rough hair with the palm of her hand, as she might have caressed a cat, or a tame wild animal. It gave her a pleasant sensation that had a thrill of danger in it, for she always expected that he would turn and set his teeth into her fingers.

She told him the story of the last meeting, and how Zorzi had been made one of the society in order that they might not feel obliged to kill him for their own safety.

”What fools they are!” exclaimed Aristarchi with a low laugh, and turning his head under her hand.

”You would have killed him, of course,” said Arisa, ”if you had been in their place. I suppose you have killed many people,” she added thoughtfully.

”No,” he answered, for though he loved her savagely, he did not trust her. ”I never killed any one except in fair fight.”

Arisa laughed low, for she remembered.