CHAPTER IX
A month had passed, and yet, to all outward appearance, Zeno's mannerof living had undergone no change. He rose early and bathed in theGolden Horn on fine days. He attended to his business in the morning,and dined with Sebastian Polo twice a week, but generally at home onthe remaining days; and he rode out in the afternoon with a singlerunning footman, or stayed indoors if it rained. Even his own servantsand slaves hardly noticed any change in his habits, and only observedthat he often looked preoccupied, and sometimes sat on his balcony foran hour without moving, his eyes fixed on the towers of the Blachernaepalace.
They did not know how much time he spent with his beautiful Greekslave; and they found that the two little maids, Yulia and Lucilla,were not inclined to gossip when they came downstairs on an errand.Omobono probably knew a good deal, but he kept it to himself, andstored the fruits of his lively curiosity to enjoy alone the delicioussensation of the miser gloating over his useless gold. On the whole,therefore, life in the Venetian merchant's house had gone on much asusual for a whole month after Zoe had fired a train which was destinedto produce momentous results when it reached the mine at last.
Zeno saw her every day now, and often twice, and she had become a partof his life, and necessary to him; though he did not believe that hewas in love with her, any more than she would have admitted that sheloved him.
For each was possessed by one dominant thought; and it chanced, as itrarely chances in real life, that one deed, if it could be performed,would satisfy the hopes of both. Zeno, born patriot and leader, sawthat the whole influence of his country in the East was at stake inthe matter of Tenedos; Zoe thirsted to revenge the death of MichaelRhangabe, her adopted father and the idol of her childhood.
If the imprisoned Emperor Johannes could be delivered from the Amenatower, both would certainly obtain what they most desired. Johanneswould give Tenedos to Venice, in gratitude for his liberty, and thepeople of Constantinople would probably tear Andronicus to ribands inthe Hippodrome, on the very spot where Rhangabe had suffered.
They would rally round their lawful sovereign if he could only be gotout of the precincts of the palace, where the usurper was stronglyguarded by his foreign mercenaries, mostly Circassians, Mingrelians,Avars, and Slavonians. The people would not rise of themselves tostorm Blachernae, nor would the Greek troops revolt of their ownaccord; but as they all feared the soldiers of the foreign legion,they hated them and their master Andronicus, and the presence ofJohannes amongst them would restore their courage and make the issuecertain.
Such a leader as Carlo Zeno might indeed have successfully besiegedAndronicus in his palace; but he knew, and every man and woman inConstantinople knew well enough, that Andronicus would make an end ofhis father and of his two younger brothers in prison, at the firstsign of a revolution, so that there might be no lawful heir to thethrone left alive but he himself.
Therefore it was the first and the chief object of the patriots tobring Johannes secretly from his place of confinement to the heart ofthe city, or to one of the islands, beyond the reach of danger, tillthe revolution should be over and his son a prisoner in his stead;though it was much more probable that the latter would be summarilyput to death as a traitor.
All this Zeno had understood before Zoe had spoken to him about it;but he had not known that the Genoese had demanded Tenedos ofAndronicus as the price of their protection against the Turks; for thenegotiations had been kept very secret, and at first Carlo had notbelieved the girl, and had deemed that the tale might be a pureinvention.
He had come again to see her on the following day, and again he hadvainly tried to find out who she was, and in what great Fanariotehouse she had been brought up. It was impossible to get a word fromher on this subject; and she warned him that what she had told himmust not be repeated in the hearing of any Genoese, nor of any oneconnected with the Court. The Genoese meant that no one should know ofthe treaty till it was carried out, and until Tenedos was theirs; forthe place was very strong, as they afterwards found by experience,and Andronicus needed their help too much to risk losing their favourby an indiscretion.
These injunctions of silence made Carlo still more doubtful as to theveracity of Zoe's story, and he frankly told her so and demandedproof; but she only answered as she had at first.
'If it is not true,' she said, 'brand me in the forehead, as theybrand thieves, and sell me in the open market.'
And again he was angry, and swore that he would do so by her indeed ifthe story was a lie; but she smiled confidently, and nodded herassent.
'If you do not save the Emperor,' she said, 'you Venetians will bedriven out of Constantinople before many months; and if Genoa onceholds Tenedos how shall you ever again sail up the Dardanelles?'
Many a time she had heard Michael Rhangabe say as much to his friends,and she knew that it was wisdom. So did Zeno, and he wondered at theknowledge of his bought slave. So he came and went, turning over thegreat question in his brain; and she awaited his coming gladly,because she saw that he was roused, and because the longing for justrevenge was uppermost in her thoughts. Thus were the two drawntogether more and more, fate helping. Yet he told her nothing of thesteps he took so quickly after he had once made up his mind to act.
She no longer asked him what he meant to do with her; she did notagain send for the secretary to complain that her existence was dull;she no longer was impatient with her maids; she seemed perfectlysatisfied with her existence.
She went out when she pleased to go, in the beautiful skiff, in chargeof Omobono, and always with one of the girls; and she sat in the deepcushioned seat as the great ladies did when they were rowed to theSweet Waters, and as she had sat many times in old days, beside KyriaAgatha. The secretary sat on a little movable seat in the waist of theboat, which was built almost exactly like a modern Venetian gondolawithout the hood, and the slave-girl sat in the bottom at hermistress's feet. Zoe, the adopted daughter of the Protosparthos, hadgone abroad with uncovered face, but Arethusa, the slave, was closelyveiled, though that was not the general custom. And often, as sheglided along in the spring afternoons, she passed people she had knownonly a year ago, or a little more, who wondered why she hid herfeatures; or told each other, as was more or less true, that she wassome handsome white slave, whose jealous master would not suffer herbeauty to be seen. For it was clear that Omobono was only arespectable elderly person placed in charge of her.
The two generally conversed in Latin, and the secretary told her ofhis search for Kyria Agatha, the children, and old Nectaria. She hadnever shown him her face since she had been a slave, and she believedthat he did not connect her with the ragged girl he had seen bendingover the sick woman's bed in the beggars' quarter. She had enjoinedupon him the greatest discretion in case he found the little family,and with Omobono such an injunction was quite unnecessary, for outwarddiscretion is the characteristic quality of curiosity, which isinwardly the least discreet of failings. People who look throughkeyholes, listen behind curtains, and read other people's letters aregenerally the last to talk of what they learn in that way.
As yet, the secretary's search had been fruitless, but he had long agomade up his mind that Zoe was Kyria Agatha's daughter. Thebandy-legged sacristan of Saint Bacchus had helped him to thisconclusion by informing him that Rustan Karaboghazji had not come toperform his devotions in the church for some time; never, in fact,since that Friday afternoon on which Omobono had inquired after him.
The secretary had searched the beggars' quarter in vain. He rememberedthe ruined house very well, and the crazy shutters with bits ofrain-bleached string tied to them for fastenings. There were peopleliving in it, but they were not the same beggars; it was now inhabitedby the chief physician of the beggars himself, whose business it wasto prepare misery for the public eye, at fixed rates. For among thosewho were really starving there lived a small tribe of professionalpaupers, who displayed the horrors of their loathsome diseases at thedoors of the churches all over Constantinople. The physician w
asskilful in his way, and though he preferred a real cripple, or a realsore for his art to improve upon, he could produce the semblance ofeither on sound limbs and a whole skin, though the process wasexpensive. Yet that increased cost was balanced by the ability of hishealthy patients to go alone to a great distance, and thus to vary thescene of their industry. They thus picked up the charity which shouldhave reached the real poor, most of whom could hardly crawl as far asthe great thoroughfares more than once or twice a week, at the risk oftheir lives. The sham beggar always has a marvellous power of coveringthe ground, but you must generally seek the real one in the lair wherehe is dying. Omobono had learnt much about beggars which he had notknown before then, and he had found no trace whatever of the peoplewhom he was seeking.
They seemed very far away when Zoe thought of them. She wonderedwhether any of them missed her, except Nectaria, now that they hadwarm clothes and plenty to eat. The sacrifice had been very terribleat first,--it did not seem so now; and she knew that on that veryafternoon when she went home after being out in the boat, she wouldlisten for Zeno's footstep in the vestibule, and think the time longtill he came.
But Omobono had gathered a good deal of information about her from hisacquaintance, the sacristan, whom he strongly suspected of being inleague with Rustan to inform him when there was anything worth buyingin the beggars' quarter; for the Bokharian was a busy man, and had notime to spend in searching for unusual merchandise, nor, when therewas any to be had, would it have been to his advantage to be seenoften in its neighborhood. So he paid the sacristan to quarter theground continually for him, while he was engaged elsewhere. It is tothe credit of Rustan's splendid business intelligence that the systemhe employed has not been improved on in five hundred years; for whenthe modern slave-dealers make their annual journeys to the centres ofsupply they find everything ready for them, like any other commercialtraveller.
Having understood Rustan's mode of procedure, Omobono had extractedfrom the sacristan such information as the latter possessed about Zoeand Kyria Agatha, but that was not very much after all. They had livedthree or four weeks in the ruined house, or perhaps six; he could notremember exactly. At first they all came to the church, but they hadsold their miserable clothes and their wretched belongings. The lasttime the girl had come, she had been alone, and she had worn a blanketover her shoulders to keep her warm. That had been at dusk. ThenRustan had bought her, and soon afterwards they must have gone away,since the beggars' physician was now installed in the house. Whyshould the sacristan take any interest in them? They were gone, andConstantinople was a vast city. No, the woman had not died, for hewould have known it. When people died they were buried, even if theyhad starved to death in the beggars' quarter.
Zoe thanked Omobono for the information, and begged him to continueher search. He wondered why she did not burst into tears, andconcluded that she was either quite heartless, or was in love withZeno, or both. He inclined to the latter theory. Love, he told himselfwith all the conviction of middle-aged inexperience, was a selfishpassion. Zoe loved Zeno, and did not care what had become of hermother.
Besides, he knew that she was jealous. She had heard of Giustina, andwas determined to see her. She insisted that the boat should keep tothe left, going up the Golden Horn, and she made the secretary pointout Sebastian Polo's dwelling. It was a small palace, a hundred yardsbelow the gardens of Blachernae, and it had marble steps, like those atZeno's house. A girl with dyed hair sat in the shade in an upperbalcony; her hair was red auburn, like that of the Venetian women, andher face was white, but that was all Zoe could see. She wished she hada hawk's eyes. Omobono said it might be Giustina, but as the latterhad many friends, it might also be one of them, for most Venetianwomen had hair of that colour.
Farther up, they neared Blachernae, and came first to the great Amenatower, of which the foundations stood on an escarped pier in thewater. Zoe looked up, trying to guess the height of the upper windowsfrom the water, but she had no experience, and they were veryhigh--perhaps a hundred palms, perhaps fifty--Zeno would know. Couldhe get up there by a rope? She wondered, and she thought of what sheshould feel if she herself were hanging there in mid-air by a singlerope against the smooth wall. Then in her imagination she saw Zenohalf-way up, and some one cut the line above, for he was discovered,and he fell. A painful thrill ran down the back of her neck and herspine and through her limbs, and she shrank in her seat.
It was up there, in the highest story, that Johannes had been aprisoner nearly two years. The windows needed no gratings, for itwould be death to leap out, and no one could climb up to get in. Thepier below the tower sloped to the stream, and its base ran out so farthat no man could have jumped clear of it from above--even if he daredthe desperate risk of striking the water. Bertrandon de la Broquieresaw it, years afterwards, when Zeno was an old man, and you may lookat a good picture of it in his illuminated book.
A solitary fisherman was perched on the edge of the sloping pier,apparently hindered from slipping off by the very slight projection ofthe lowest course of stones, which was perpendicular. His brown legswere bare far above the knee, he wore a brown fisherman's coat of awoollen stuff, not woven but fulled like felt; a wide hat of sennet,sewn round and round a small crown of tarred sailcloth, flapped overhis ears. He angled in the slow stream with a long reed and a shortline.
Zoe looked at him attentively as the boat passed near him, and she sawthat he was watching her, too, from under the limp brim of his queerhat.
Her left hand hung over the gunwale of the skiff, and when she wasopposite the fisherman she wetted her fingers and carelessly raisedthem to her lips as if she were tasting the drops. The man instantlyreplied by waving his rod over the water thrice, and he cast his shortline each time. She had seen his mouth and chin and scanty beard belowthe hanging brim of his hat, and she had fancied that she recognisedhim; she had no doubt of it now. The solitary fisherman was GorliasPietrogliant, the astrologer.
Omobono had scarcely noticed him, for his own natural curiosity madehim look steadily up at the high windows, on the chance that theimperial prisoner might look out just then. He had seen him once ortwice before the revolution, and wondered whether he was much changedby his long confinement. But instead of the handsome bearded face thesecretary remembered, a woman appeared and looked towards Pera for amoment, and drew back hastily as she caught sight of the skiff; shewas rather a stout woman with red cheeks, and she wore the Greekhead-dress of the upper classes. So much Omobono saw at a glance,though the window was fully ninety feet above him, and she had onlyremained in sight a few seconds. He had always had good eyes.
But without seeing her at all Zoe had understood that communicationbetween the prisoner and the outer world was carried on throughGorlias, and that by him a message could be sent directly to theEmperor. She did not speak till the boat had passed the whole lengthof the palace and was turning in the direction of the Sweet Waters.
'That astrologer,' she said, 'do you remember him? Why has he nevercome again?'
Omobono promised to send for him the very next day. After that therewas silence for a while, and the skiff slipped along upstream, tillthe secretary spoke again, to correct what he had last said.
'He had better not come to-morrow. I will tell him to come the nextmorning.'
'Why?' Zoe asked, in some surprise.
'To-morrow,' said Omobono, 'Messer Sebastian Polo comes to dine withthe master. There will be confusion in the house.'
'Confusion, because one guest comes to dinner?' Zoe spokeincredulously.
'I believe,' said Omobono rather timidly, 'that he will not be theonly guest.'
'He brings his daughter with him, then?' Zoe felt that she changedcolour under her veil.
'I do not know,' the secretary said smoothly; 'but there will beseveral guests.'
Zoe turned towards him impatiently.
'You will have orders to keep me out of the way while they are in thehouse,' she said. 'I shall receive through you the master's commandsnot to s
how myself at my window!'
'How can you think such a thing?' cried Omobono, protesting. 'Ratherthan put you to such inconvenience I am sure the master will beg hisguests to enter by the other side of the house.
If it was his object to exasperate her, he had succeeded, but if heexpected her to break out in anger he was mistaken. She was too proud,and she already regretted the few hasty words she had spoken.Moreover, her anger told her something that surprised her, and woundedher self-respect. She understood for the first time how jealous shewas, and that she could feel no such jealousy if she were not in love.She was not a child, and but for misfortune she would have beenmarried at least two years by this time. This was not the dreamy andslowly stealing dawn of girlhood's day; her sun had risen in a flashamidst angry clouds, as he does in India in mid-June, when thesouth-west monsoon is just going to break and the rain is very near.
When Omobono had spoken she leaned back in her seat and drew the foldsof her mantle more closely round her, as if to separate herself fromhim more completely, and she did not speak again for a long time. Onhis side, the secretary understood, and instead of feeling rebuked byher silence, he was pleased with himself because his curiosity hadmade another step forward in the land of discovery.
It occurred to him that it would be very interesting to bring Zoe andGiustina within sight of each other, if no nearer. Zeno had not saidthat his guests were to come by land instead of by water; thesecretary had only argued that he would request them to do so, toavoid their seeing Zoe if she happened to be at her window. Omobonohad power to do whatever he thought necessary for keeping the houseand the approach to it in repair without consulting any one. That wasa part of his duty.
It was usual to repair the road in the spring. Omobono chose to havethe work done now, sent for a gang of labourers, and gave a few simpleorders. Before Zeno knew what was going on the way to the mainentrance was quite impassable, though a narrow passage had been leftto the door of the kitchen for the servants and slaves. The secretaryhad suddenly discovered that the road was in such a deplorablecondition as to make it necessary to dig it out to the depth of ayard here and there, where the soil was soft, thus making a series ofpits, over which no horse could pass.
'What in the world possessed you to do this now?' asked Zeno, withannoyance, 'I told you that Messer Sebastian and his daughter werecoming to dine with me to-morrow, as well as other friends.'
'They will see nothing, sir,' answered the secretary imperturbably.'The guests always come by water, they dine on that side of the house,and they go away by water. How could they see the road, sir? It isbeyond the court!'
Zeno did not choose to explain that he had especially begged Polo andthe others to come by land, and he now concealed his displeasure, orbelieved that he did. But when Omobono had gone to his own room Zenosent for the running footmen and bade them go to each of the invitedguests early the next morning to say that the road was torn up andthat they must be good enough to come in their boats.
Then he went upstairs, for he had not seen Zoe all day, and it pleasedhim to sup with her. As soon as he entered the room and saw her hefelt that something was wrong, but he made as if he noticed nothing,and sat down in his usual place.
'We will have supper together,' he said in a cheerful tone, settlinghimself in his big chair, and rubbing his hands, like a man who hasfinished his day's work and looks forward to something pleasant.
As a matter of fact he had done nothing in particular, and had sethimself a rather disagreeable task; for he did not wish MesserSebastian to know that Zoe or any other woman was in the house, and hewas reduced to the necessity of telling the girl not to show herself.She was legally his chattel, and if he chose he might lock her up in aroom on the other side of the house for a few hours, or in the cellar.He told himself this; and for the hundredth time he recalled her ownstory of her birth and bringing up, which was logical and clear, andexplained both her gentle breeding and the careful education she hadevidently received. But logic is often least convincing when it ismost unanswerable, and Zeno remained in the belief that the mostimportant part of Zoe's story was still a secret.
She said nothing now in answer to his announcement, but she beckonedto Yulia to bring supper, and the maid disappeared. Being out oftemper with him at that moment, she was asking herself how she couldpossibly be jealous of Giustina Polo; she mentally added that shewould no more think of sitting at the window to see her go by, than oflooking at her through a keyhole. Also, she wished Zeno would sitwhere he was for an hour or two, and not utter a word, so that shemight show him how utterly indifferent she was to his presence, andthat she could be just as silent as he; and women much older than Zoehave felt just as she did then.
But Zeno, who was uncomfortable, was also resolved to be cheerful andat his ease.
'It has been a beautiful day,' he observed. 'I hope you had a pleasantmorning on the water.'
'Thanks,' Zoe answered, and said no more.
This was not encouraging, but Zeno was not easily put off.
After a few moments he tried again.
'I fear you do not find my secretary very amusing,' he said.
Zoe was on the point of asking him whether he himself consideredOmobono a diverting person, but she checked herself with a littlesnort of indignation which might have passed for a laugh without asmile. Zeno glanced at her profile, raised his eyebrows, and saidnothing more till the slave-girls came with the supper. While theybrought the small table and set it between the two, he leaned back inhis carved chair, crossed one shapely leg over the other, and drummeda noiseless tattoo with the end of his fingers on his knee, thepicture of unconcern. Zoe half sat and half lay on her divan,apparently scrutinising the nail of one little finger, pushing it andrubbing it gently with the thumb of the same hand, and then looking atit again as if she expected to observe a change in its appearanceafter being touched.
The maids placed the dishes on the table and poured out wine, and Zoebegan to eat in silence, without paying any attention to Zeno. That isone way of showing indifference, and both men and women use it, yet itstill remains surprisingly effective.
'What is the matter with you?' Zeno asked, suddenly.
Zoe pretended to be surprised and then smiled coldly.
'Oh! you mean, because I am hungry, I suppose. I have been in the openair. It must be that.'
She at once took another mouthful, and went on eating.
'No,' answered Zeno, watching her. 'I did not mean that.'
She raised her beautiful eyebrows, just as he had raised his a fewminutes earlier, but she said nothing and seemed very busy with thefish. Carlo took another piece, swallowed some of it deliberately, anddrank a little before he leaned back in his chair and spoke again.
'Something has happened,' he said at last with great conviction.
'Really?' Zoe pretended surprised interest. 'What?' she asked withaffected eagerness.
'You understand me perfectly,' he replied with a shade of sternness,for he was growing tired of her mood.
She glanced at him sideways, as a woman does when she hears a man'stone change suddenly, and she is not sure what he may do or say next.
'You do not make it easy to understand you, my lord,' she said afteran instant's hesitation.
'The matter is simple enough. I find you in a bad humour----'
'Oh no! I assure you!' Zoe broke in, with a woman's diabolicalfacility in interrupting a man just at the right moment for her ownadvantage. 'I was never in a better temper in my life!'
To prove this, she took a bird and some salad, and smiled sweetly ather plate, leaving him to prove his assertion, but he did not fallinto the trap.
'Then you are not easy to live with,' he observed bluntly. 'I am gladit is over.'
'Do take some of this salad!' suggested Zoe. 'It is really delicious!'
'To-morrow,' Zeno said, without paying any attention to herrecommendation, 'I shall have a few guests at dinner.'
'I should advise you to give them a salad exact
ly like this,' answeredZoe. 'It could not be better!'
'I am glad you like it. I leave the fare to Omobono. It is aboutanother matter that I have to speak.'
'You need not!' Zoe laughed carelessly. 'I know what you are going tosay. Shall I save you the trouble?'
'I do not see how you can guess what it is----'
'Oh, easily! You do not wish your friends to see me and you are goingto order me not to look out of the window when they come. Is that it?'
'Yes--more or less----' Zeno was surprised.
'Yes, that is it,' laughed Zoe. 'But it is quite useless, sir. I shallmost certainly look out of the window, unless you lock me up inanother room; and as for your doing that, I will yield only to force!'
She laughed again, much amused at the dilemma in which she was placinghim. And indeed, he did not at first know how to answer herdeclaration of independence.
'I cannot imagine why you should be so anxious to show yourself topeople you do not know,' he said. 'Or perhaps you fancy they may befriends--you think that if they recognise you--but that is absurd. Ihave told you that if you have friends in the world you may go tothem, and you say you have none.'
Zoe's tone changed again and became girlishly petulant.
'It is nothing but curiosity, of course!' she answered. 'I want to seethe people you like. Is that so unnatural? In a whole month I havenever seen one of your friends--'
'I have not many. But such as I have, I value, and I do not care tolet them get a mistaken impression of me, or of the way I live.'
'Especially not the women amongst them,' Zoe added, halfinterrogatively.
'There are none,' said Zeno, as if to cut short the suggestion.
'I see. You do not want your men friends to know that there are womenliving in your house, do you? They are doubtless all grave and elderlypersons, who would be much shocked and grieved to learn that you havebought a pretty Greek slave. After all, you came near being a priest,did you not? They naturally associate you in their minds with theclergy, and for some reason or other you think it just as well foryou, or your affairs, that they should! I have always heard that theVenetians are good men of business!'
'You are probably the only person alive who would risk saying that tome,' said Zeno, looking at her.
'What do I risk, my lord?' asked Zoe, with a sort of submissivegravity.
'My anger,' Zeno answered curtly.
'Yes sir, I understand. Your anger--but pray, my lord, how will itshow itself? Shall I be beaten, or put in chains and starved, orturned out of your house and sold at auction? Those are the usualpunishments for disobedient slaves, are they not?'
'I am not a Greek,' said Zeno, annoyed.
'If you were,' answered Zoe, turning her face from him to hide hersmile, 'you would probably wish to tear out my tongue!'
'Perhaps.'
'It might be a wise precaution!' she laughed.
Zeno looked at her sharply now, for the words sounded like a threatthat was only half-playful. She knew enough to compass his destructionat the hands of Andronicus if she betrayed him, but he did not believeshe would do that, and he wondered what she was driving at, for hisexperience of women's ways was small.
'Listen,' he said, dropping his voice a little. 'I shall not beat you,I shall not starve you, and I shall not sell you. But if you try tobetray me, I will kill you.'
She raised her head proudly and met his eyes without fear.
'I would spare you the trouble--if I ever betrayed you or any one.'
'It is one thing to talk of death, it is another to die!' Zeno laughedrather incredulously, as he quoted the old Italian proverb.
'I have seen death,' Zoe answered, in a different tone. 'I know whatit is.'
He wondered what she meant, but he knew it was useless to questionher, and for a few moments there was silence. The lamps burnedsteadily in the quiet air, for the evenings were still and cool, andthe windows were shut and curtained; through the curtains and theshutters the song of a passing waterman was heard in the stillness, along-drawn, plaintive melody in the Lydian Mode, familiar to Zoe'sears since she had been a child.
But Zeno saw how intensely she listened to the words. She clasped herhands tightly over her knee, and bent forwards to catch each note andsyllable.
The waters are blue as the eyes of the Emperor's daughter, In the crystal pools of her eyes there are salt tears. The water is both salt and fresh. Over the water to my love, this night, over the water--
The voice died away, and Zoe no longer heard the words distinctly;presently she could not hear the voice at all, yet she strained herears for a few seconds longer. The boat must have passed, on its waydown to the Bosphorus.
For a whole month she had sat in the same room at that hour, and manytimes already she had heard men singing in their boats, sometimes tothat same ancient Lydian Mode, but never once had they pronouncedthose meaning words. Often and often again she had passed within sightof the Amena tower, but not until to-day had she seen a solitaryfisherman sitting at the pier's edge below it, and he had waved hisrod thrice over the water when she passed by. And now in a flash ofintuition she guessed that the singer was the fisherman and noneother, and that the song was for her, and for no one else; and it wasa signal which she could understand and should answer if she could;and there was but one way of answering, and that was to show somelight.
'It is hot,' she said, beckoning to Yulia. 'Open the large window widefor a few minutes and let in the fresh air.'
Yulia obeyed quickly. The night was very dark.
'Besides,' Zoe continued carelessly, as Zeno looked at her, 'thatfellow has a fine voice, and we shall still hear him.'
And indeed, as the window was opened, the song was heard again, atsome distance--
Over the water to my love, she is awake to-night, I see her eyes amongst the stars. Love, I am here in the dark, but to-morrow I shall see the day in your face, I shall see the noon in your eyes, I shall look upon the sun in your hair. Over the water, the blue water, the water both salt and fresh----
Once more the voice died away and the faint plash of oars told Zoethat the message was all delivered, and that Gorlias was gone, on hisway downstream.
Zeno, whose maternal tongue was not Greek, could not be supposed tounderstand much of the song, for unfamiliar words sung to such ancientmelodies can only be caught by native-born ears, and sharp ones atthat. At a signal from Zoe, the maid shut the window again, and drewthe curtains.
'Could you understand the fellow?' Zeno asked, glad in reality thatthe conversation had been interrupted.
'Yes,' Zoe answered lightly, 'as you would understand an Italianfisherman, I suppose. The man gave you a message, my lord. Shall Iinterpret what he said?'
'Can you?' He laughed a little.
'He tells you that if you will not try to force Arethusa to keep awayfrom the window to-morrow, she will probably do as you wish--probably!'
'Your friend must have good ears!' Zeno smiled. 'But then he only said"probably." That is not a promise.'
'Why should you trust the promise of a poor slave, sir? You would notbelieve a lady of Constantinople in the same case if she took oath onthe four Gospels! Imagine any woman missing a chance of looking atanother about whom she is curious!'
'Who is the other?' asked Zeno, not much pleased.
'She is young, and as fresh as spring. Her hair is like that of allthe Venetian ladies----'
'Since you have seen her, why are you so anxious to see her again?'
'Ah! You see! It is she! I knew it! She is coming to-morrow with herfather.'
'Well? If she is, what of it?' asked Zeno, impatiently.
'Nothing. Since you admit that it is she, I do not care to see her atall. I will be good and you need not lock me up.'
Thereupon she bent towards the table and began to eat again, daintily,but as if she were still hungry. Zeno watched her in silence for sometime, conscious that of all women he had ever seen none had so ea
silytouched him, none had played upon his moods as she did, making himimpatient, uneasy, angry, and forgiving by turns, within a quarter ofan hour. A few minutes ago he had been so exasperated that he hadrudely longed to box her little ears; and now he felt much moreinclined to kiss her, and did not care to think how very easy andwholly lawful it was for him to do so. That was one of his manydilemmas; if he spoke to her as his equal she told him she was aslave, but when he treated her ever so little as if she were one, herproud little head went up, and she looked like an empress.
She had never been so much like one as to-night, he thought, thoughthere was nothing very imperial in the action of eating a very stickystrawberry, drawn up out of thick syrup with a forked silver pin. Shedid it with grace, no doubt, twisting the pin dexterously, so that thebig drop of syrup spread all round the berry just at the right moment,and it never dripped. Zeno had often seen the wife of the EmperorCharles eating stewed prunes with her fingers, which was not neat orpleasant to see, though it might be imperial, since she was a genuineempress. But it was neither Zoe's grace nor her delicate ways thatpleased him and puzzled him most; the mystery lay rather in thefearless tone of her voice and the proud carriage of her head when shewas offended, in the flashing answer of her brave eyes and the noblecurve of her tender mouth; for these are things given, not learnt, andif they could be taught at all, thought Zeno, they would not be taughtto a slave.
He let his head rest against the back of his chair and wished manythings, rather incoherently. For once in his life he felt inclined foranything rather than action or danger, or any sudden change; and inthe detestable natural contradiction of duty and inclination itchanced that on that night, of all nights, he could not stay where hewas to idle away two or three hours in careless talk, till it shouldbe time to go downstairs and sleep. The habit of spending his eveningsin that way had grown upon him during the past month more than herealised; but to-night he knew that he must break through it, andperhaps to-morrow, too, and for long afterwards, if not for ever. Thatwas one reason why it had annoyed him to find Zoe out of temper.
He rose with an effort, and with something like a sigh.
'I must be going,' he said, standing beside the divan. 'Good-night.'
Zoe had looked up in surprise when he left his seat, and now her facefell.
'Already? Must you go already?' she asked.
'Yes. I have to keep an appointment. Good-night.'
'Good-night, Messer Carlo,' answered Zoe softly and a little sadly.
She had never before addressed him in that way, as an equal and aVenetian would have done, and the expression, with the tone in whichit was uttered, arrested his attention and stopped him when he was inthe act of turning away. He said nothing, but there was a question inhis look.
'I am sorry that I made you angry,' she said, and she turned her faceup to him with one of those half-pathetic, hesitating little smilesthat ask forgiveness of a man and invariably get it, unless he is abrute.
'I am sorry that I let you see I was annoyed,' he answered simply.
'If I had not been so foolish, you would not go away so early!'
Her tone was contrite and regretfully thoughtful, as if theexplanation were irrefutable but humiliating. Eve was, on the whole, agood woman, and is believed to be in Paradise; yet with the slightprevious training of a few minutes' conversation with the serpent shewas an accomplished temptress, and her rustic taste for apples hassent untold millions down into unquenchable fire. It was a merecoincidence that Eve should have been always called Zoe in the earlyGreek translations of Genesis, and that Zoe Rhangabe should haveinherited a dangerous resemblance to the first beautiful--andenterprising--mother of men.
'I would stay if I could,' Zeno said. 'But indeed I have anappointment, and I must go.'
'Is it very important, very--very?'
Zeno smiled at her now, but did not answer at once. Instead, he walkedto the window, opened the shutters again, and looked out. The nightwas very dark. Here and there little lights twinkled in the houses ofPera, and those that were near the water's edge made tiny paths overthe black stream. After his eyes had grown used to the gloom Zenocould make out that there was a boat near the marble steps, and a verysoft sound of oars moving in the water told him that the boatman waspaddling gently to keep his position against the slow current. Zenoshut the window again and turned back to Zoe.
'Yes,' he said, answering her last speech after the interval, 'it isvery important. If it were not, I would not go out to-night.'
He was going out of the house, then. She knew that he rarely did soafter dark, and she could not help connecting his going with theinvitation he had given to Polo and his daughter for the next day.Zoe's imagination instantly spun a thread across the chasms ofimprobability, and ran along the fairy bridge to the regions of theimpossible beyond. He was to be betrothed to Giustina to-morrow, hewas going now to settle some urgent matter of business connected withthe marriage-contract; or he was betrothed already; yes, and he was tobe married in the morning and would bring his bride home; Zoe, in herlonely room upstairs, would hear the noisy feasting of thewedding-guests below----
When the thread broke, leaving her in the unreality, her lip quivered,and she was a little pale. Zeno was standing beside her, holding herhand.
'Good-night, Arethusa,' he said in a tone that frightened her.
The words sounded like 'good-bye,' for that was what they might mean;he knew it, and she guessed it.
'You are going away!' she cried, springing to her feet and slippingher hand from his to catch his wrist.
'Not if I can help it,' he answered. 'But you may not see meto-morrow.'
'Not in the evening?' she asked in great anxiety. 'Not even after theyare gone?'
'I cannot tell,' he replied gravely. 'Perhaps not.'
She dropped his wrist and turned from him.
'You are going to be married,' she said in a low voice. 'I was sure ofit.'
'No!' he answered with emphasis. 'Not that!'
She turned to him again; it did not occur to her to doubt his word,and her eyes asked him the next question with eager anxiety, but hewould not answer. He only repeated the three words, very tenderly andsoftly--
'Good-night--Arethusa!'
She knew it was good-bye, though he would not say it; she was notguessing his meaning now. But she was proud. He should not see howhurt she was.
'Good-night,' she answered. 'If you are going away--then, good-bye.'
Her voice almost broke, but she pressed her lips tight together whenthe last word had passed them, and though the tears seemed to beburning her brain she would not shed them while his eyes were on her.
'God keep you,' he said, as one says who goes on a long journey.
Again he was turning from her, not meaning to look back; but it wasmore than she could bear. In an inward tempest of fear and pain shehad been taught suddenly that she truly loved him more than her soul,and in the same instant he was leaving her for a long time, perhapsfor ever. She could not bear it, and her pride broke down. She caughthis hand as he turned to go and held it fast.
'Take me with you!' she cried. 'Oh, do not go away and leave mebehind!'
A silence of three seconds.
'I will come back,' he said. 'If I am alive, I will come back.'
'You are going into danger!' Her hand tightened on his, and she grewpaler still.
He would not answer, but he patted her wrist kindly, trying to sootheher anxiety. He seemed quiet enough at that moment, but he felt theslow, full beat of his own heart and the rush of the swelling pulse inhis throat. He had not guessed before to-night that she loved him; hewas too simple, and far too sure that he himself could not love aslave. Even now he did not like to own it, but he knew that the handshe held was not passive; it pressed hers tighter in return, and drewit to him instead of pushing it away, till at last it was close to hisbreast.
'Oh, let me go with you, take me with you!' she repeated, beseechingwith all her heart.
He was not thi
nking of danger now, he had forgotten it so far that hescarcely paid attention to her words or to her passionate entreaty.Words had lost sense and value, as they do in battle, and the fire ranalong his arm to her hand. It had been cold; it was hot now, andthrobbed strangely.
Then he dropped it and took her suddenly by her small throat, almostviolently, and turned her face up to his; but she was not frightened,and she smiled in his grasp.
'I did not mean to love you!'
He still held her as he spoke; she put up her hands together and tookhis wrists, but not to free herself; instead, she pressed his holdcloser upon her throat, as if to make him choke her.
'I wish you would kill me now!' she cried, in a trembling, happylittle voice.
He laughed low, and shook her the least bit, as a strong man shakes achild in play, but her eyes drew him to her more and more.
'It would be so easy now,' she almost whispered, 'and I should be sohappy!'
Then they kissed; and as their lips touched they closed their eyes,for they were too near to see each other any longer. Her head sankback from his upon his arm, for she was almost fainting, and he laidhis palm gently on her forehead and pushed away her hair, and lookedat her long.
'I had not meant to love you,' he said again.
Her lips were still parted, tender as rose-leaves at dewfall, and hereyes glistened as she opened them at the sound of his voice.
'Are you sorry?' she asked faintly.
'I did not mean to love you!']
He kissed the question from her lips, and her right hand went up tohis brown throat and round it, and drew him, to press the kiss closer;and then it held him down while she moved her head till she couldwhisper in his ear:--
'It was only because you were angry,' she said. 'You are not reallygoing out to-night! Tell me you are not!'
He would not answer at first, and he tried to kiss her again, but shewould not let him, and she pushed him away till she could see hisface. He met her eyes frankly, but he shook his head.
'It must be to-night, and no other night,' he said gravely. 'I havemade an appointment, and I have given my word. I cannot break it, butI shall come back.'
She slipped from his hold, and sat down on the broad divan, againstthe cushions.
'You are going into danger,' she said. 'You may not come back. Youtold me so.'
He tried to laugh, and answered in a careless tone:--
'I have come back from far more dangerous expeditions. Besides, I haveguests to-morrow--that is a good reason for not being killed!'
He stood beside her, one hand half-thrust into his loose belt. Shetook the other, which hung down, and looked up to him, still pleading.
'Please, please do not go to-night!'
Still he shook his head; nothing could move him, and he would go. Apiteous look came into her eyes while they appealed to his in vain,and suddenly she dropped his hand and buried her face in the softleathern pillow.
'You had made me forget that I am only a slave!' she cried.
The cushion muffled her voice, and the sentence was broken by a sob,though no tears came with it.
'I would go to-night, though my own mother begged me to stay,' Zenoanswered.
Zoe turned her head without lifting it, and looked up at him sideways.
'Then much depends on your going,' she said, with a question in hertone. 'If it were only for yourself, for your pleasure, or yourfortune, you would not refuse your own mother!'
Zeno turned and began to walk up and down the room, but he saidnothing in reply. A thought began to dawn in her mind.
'But if it were for your country--for Venice----'
He glanced sharply at her as he turned back towards her in his walk,and he slackened his pace. Zoe waited a moment before she spoke again,looked down, thoughtfully pinched the folds of silk on her knee, andlooked up suddenly again as if an idea had struck her.
'And though I am only your bought slave,' she said, 'I would nothinder you then. I mean, I would not even try to keep you from runninginto danger--for Venice!'
She held her head up proudly now, and the last words rang out in atone that went to the man's heart. He was not far from her when shespoke them. The last syllable had not died away on the quiet air andhe already held her up in his arms, lifted clear from the floor, andhis kisses were raining on her lips, and on her eyes, and her hair.She laughed low at the storm she had raised.
'I love you!' he whispered again and again softly, roughly, andtriumphantly by turns.
She loved him too, and quite as passionately just then; every kisswoke a deep and delicious thrill that made her whole body quiver withdelight, and each oft-repeated syllable of the three whispered wordsrang like a silver trumpet-note in her heart. But for all that herthoughts raced on, already following him in the coming hours.
With every woman, to love a man is to feel that she must positivelyknow just where he is going as soon as he is out of her sight. If itwere possible, he should never leave the house without aticket-of-leave and a policeman, followed by a detective to watchboth; but that a man should assert any corresponding right to watchthe dear object of his affections throws her into a paroxysm of fury;and it is hard to decide which woman most resents being spied upon,the angel of light, the siren that walketh in darkness, or thesemi-virginal flirt.
Zoe really loved Zeno more truly at that moment, because the glorioustempest of kisses her speech had called down upon her willing littlehead brought with it the certainty that he was not going to spend therest of the evening at the house of Sebastian Polo. This, at least, ishow it strikes the story-teller in the bazaar; but the truth is thatno man ever really understood any woman. It is uncertain whether anyone woman understands any other woman; it is doubtful whether anywoman understands her own nature; but one thing is sure, beyondquestion--every woman who loves a man believes, or tells him, that hehelps her to understand herself. This shows us that men are notaltogether useless.
Yet, to do Zoe justice, there was one other element in her joy. Shehad waited long to learn that Zeno meant to free Johannes if it couldbe done, and he had met all her questions with answers that told hernothing; she was convinced that he did not even know the passwords ofthose who called themselves conspirators, but who had done nothing intwo years beyond inventing a few signs and syllables by which torecognise each other. Whether he knew them or not, he was ready to actat last, and the deed on which hung the destinies of Constantinoplewas to be attempted that very night. Before dawn Michael Rhangabe'sdeath might be avenged, and Kyria Agatha's wrongs with Zoe's own.
'I want to help you,' she said, when he let her speak. 'Tell me howyou are going to do it.'
'With a boat and a rope,' he answered.
'Take me! I will sit quite still in the bottom. I will watch; no onehas better eyes or ears than I.'
'More beautiful you mean!'
He shut her eyes with his lips and kissed the lobe of one little ear.But she moved impatiently in his arms, with a small laugh that meantmany things--that she was happy, and that she loved him, but that akiss was no answer to what she had just said, and that he must notkiss her again till he had replied in words.
'Take me!' she repeated.
'This is man's work,' he answered. 'Besides, it is the work of one manonly, and no more.'
'Some one must watch below,' Zoe suggested.
'There is the man in the boat. But watching is useless. If any onesurprises us in the tower, I can get away; but if I am caught by anenemy from the water the game is up. That is the only danger.'
'That is the only danger,' Zoe repeated, more to herself than for him.
He saw that she had understood now, and that she would not try to keephim longer, nor again beg to be taken. She went with him to the doorof the vestibule without calling the maids, and she parted from himthere, very quietly.
'God speed you!' she said, for good-bye.
When he reached the outer entrance and looked back once more, she wasalready gone within, and the quiet lamplight fell
across the folds ofthe heavy curtain.
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