Arethusa Part 12

'Go,' said Zeno to the maids. 'I will call you.'

The two slipped away noiselessly. Zeno had forgotten his displeasure, and he felt her presence again.

'You must eat and drink,' he said gently. 'If there is anything you like, tell me. You shall have it.'

'You are kind,' she answered, but she did not lift her hand. 'I have no appet.i.te,' she added, after a little pause.

I do not know why no man believes a woman when she says that she is not hungry. Zeno was annoyed, and by way of showing his displeasure he himself began to eat more than he wanted. Zoe looked on in silence while he finished another bird and all the salad he had made. She would not have been a woman if she had not seen that he felt a little shy, all at once, as the most fearless and energetic men may before a woman they do not understand. Then there was a change for the better in her own state; she breathed more freely, her heart beat more steadily, the weight that lay like lead on her chest, just below her throat, was lightened. When a woman sees that a man is shy with her, she is sure that sooner or later he will turn at her will; and though she is sometimes mistaken, the chances are that she is right.

Zeno had never been shy before; but now, when he wished to speak, he could find nothing to say, and Zoe knew it, and would not help him. It was strange that as her fear subsided she thought him handsomer than at first sight, in the morning. When he had finished eating, he drank some wine, set down the gla.s.s, and looked at her with an expression that was meant to show something like anger; for he already regretted the time--distant five minutes--when she had been afraid of him, and he had been master of the situation. He drew his brows together, set his lips, and glared at her, but to his amazement she did not seem frightened. He had lost the thread, for the time, and she had found it. She answered his look with one of gentle surprise.

'Have you finished supper already?' she asked sweetly.

A slight flush rose in his brown cheek, as he felt his shyness increase, but he kept his eyes steadily on her.

'You do not seem to be afraid of me any longer,' he said, by way of answer.

'Have I anything to fear from you?' she asked, in a trusting tone.

She risked everything on the question, or thought she did. She won.

His face changed and softened, for by appealing to his generosity she had put him at ease.

'No,' he answered. 'You never were in danger from me. Besides,' he added, with something like an effort, 'I have not made up my mind what to do with you.'

Zoe sat up straight, resting one hand on the edge of the little table.

'The truth is,' he went on, 'I did not buy you for myself.'

Zoe made a quick movement in her seat. Then her tender mouth hardened in a look of contempt.

'So you are only another slave-dealer!' she cried scornfully. But Zeno laughed at the mere idea, and was glad to laugh. It was a relief.

'No,' he said, 'I am not a slave-dealer. I am a Venetian merchant, I believe. I have been a soldier, and I came near being a prebendary!'

'A priest!' Zoe's face showed her disgust.

'No, for I never was in orders,' answered Zeno, growing more sure of himself as she grew more angry. 'But as for you, a friend of mine, a rich gentleman of Venice, has asked me as a favour to send him the most beautiful slave to be had in Constantinople for the large price he named. As a matter of fact----'

But here he was interrupted, for Zoe turned from him and buried her face in the leathern cushion. Her body shook a little, and Zeno thought she was crying. She had grown almost used to him, and had begun to feel that she might have some power over him; and she was ashamed to own that he attracted her, though she meant to hate him.

But the idea that he had only bought her like a piece of goods, to pa.s.s her on to an unknown man far away, was more than she could bear at first. Moreover, though the idea of eating sickened her, she was really weakened by need of food, and she had undergone within twenty-four hours as much as her nature could bear without breaking down in some way.

Zeno was distressed, and bent over her, rather awkwardly, anxious to soothe her. She turned her face to him suddenly, without warning, and he saw that her eyes were dry and her cheeks flushed.

'Venice is a beautiful city,' he said coaxingly. 'You will be a great person in my friend's house--he will give you----'

'When are you going to send me? To-morrow?' The girl had mastered herself a little.

'I have told you that I have not made up my mind about you,' Zeno answered. 'The money I gave the Bokharian was my own. I may keep you here after all.'

Zoe detested him in that moment. She longed to insult him, to strike him, to drive him away. There was something so condescending in what he said. He would make up his mind about her! He might keep her after all! He had paid his own money for her! It was not possible that she could have thought him handsome, that she could have been even momentarily attracted by his face, his manner, or his voice.

'I hate you!' she cried, shutting her teeth tightly as she spoke.

He was near her, and she drew back from him as far as she could against the cushions of the divan. He resumed his seat, for he saw how angry she was. He had purposely spoken as if she were really the slave she told him that she was, and against the natural instinct which bade him treat her as his equal.

'Indeed,' he said coldly, and he took a cracked walnut from the table and began to peel the kernel, 'it is not easy to know what will please you. You seem horrified at the idea of going to Venice and furious at the thought of staying here! Of course, there is a third possibility.

I would not send my friend a slave who would be so discontented as to poison him and his family, and I shall certainly not keep one in my house who hates me and may take it into her head to cut my throat in my sleep. The only thing that remains will be to sell you back to the Bokharian at a loss. Should you like that?'

Zoe felt again that he was her master.

'You made me think you would be kind to me!' she said, and her voice quavered.

Zeno laughed, for he had been too much annoyed to yield at once to her appeal.

'That did not prevent you from saying that you hated me, a while ago,'

he answered. 'You must not expect too much Christian virtue of me, for I am no saint. I never learned to love those that hate me!'

She liked him better now; as he threw back his head a little, looking at her from under his half-closed lids, she glanced at his brown throat and she did not think of cutting it, as he had suggested. But she was angry with herself for pa.s.sing through so many phases of like and dislike in so short a time, and for not feeling relief at the thought of being sent on a long journey, which certainly would mean safety while it lasted, and perhaps a chance of freedom. She wondered, too, why she no longer wished to die outright now that she had saved Kyria Agatha. Her answer to his last speech was humble.

'You made me say it,' she said. 'I am sorry, sir.'

'At least, I have learnt that you would rather stay here than go back to Rustan Karaboghazji and that gentle wife of his--his red-haired dove!'

'Anything rather than that!'

Her tone was earnest, for it was the fate she feared most, both for herself and because she fancied that the dealer would in some way claim his money from Kyria Agatha. Zeno was apparently satisfied with her answer, for he looked more kindly at her and was silent for a time. Again he allowed his eyes to be delighted with her beauty.

'I will not send you back,' he said at last; and he held out his hand towards her, as if he were giving a promise to an equal.

She was grateful, but she thought that perhaps he was trying to make her betray her birth. No slave would take the master's hand familiarly in her own; she knew the ways of slaves, for there had been many in her adopted father's house, and she touched the tips of Zeno's fingers with her own and pressed her lips to the back of her own hand when she withdrew it. The action disconcerted him a little, for it was performed perfectly, with all the deference of born servitude.

'You were not long in Rustan's house, were you?' he asked, not seeming to be much interested in the answer, for he hoped to take her unawares.

If she told the truth, which he knew, he would show surprise and press her with another question; if she answered with an untruth he should gain that much knowledge of her character for future use.

Quick-witted, she did neither.

'It pleased my lord to remind me a while ago that a slave's oath is never to be believed,' she said. 'It is the law that a slave must be tortured when giving evidence, is it not?'

'I believe it is,' answered Zeno, with a smile. 'But you are quite safe! I only ask you how long you were in Rustan's house.'

'One night and part of a day,' Zoe answered after a moment.

Zeno pretended surprise.

'So short a time! Then he only bought you yesterday?'

'Yesterday evening.'