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.

“When I first saw you,” she said, “your hands were covered with blood.  I think the reason why I liked you was that you seemed so much more terrible than all the others who looked in at my cabin door.”

“I am as mild as milk and almonds,” said Aristarchi.  “I am as timid as a rabbit.”

His deep voice was like the purring of a huge cat.  Arisa looked down at his head.  Then her hands suddenly clasped his throat and she tried to make her fingers meet round it as if she would have strangled him, but it was too big for them.  He drew in his chin a little, the iron muscles stiffened themselves, the cords stood out, and though she pressed with all her might she could not hurt him, even a little; but she loved to try.

“I am sure I could strangle Contarini,” she said quietly.  “He has a throat like a woman’s.”

“What a murderous creature you are!” purred the Greek, against hex knee.  “You are always talking of killing.”

“I should like to see you fighting for your life,” she answered, “or for me.”

“It is the same thing,” he said.

“I should like to see it.  It would be a splendid sight.”

“What if I got the worst of it?” asked Aristarchi, his vast mouth grinning at the idea.

“You?” Arisa laughed contemptuously.  “The man is not born who could kill you.  I am sure of it.”

“One very nearly succeeded, once upon a time,” said Aristarchi.

“One man?  I do not believe it!”

“He chanced to be an executioner,” answered the Greek calmly, “and I had my hands tied behind me.”

“Tell me about it.”

Arisa bent down eagerly, for she loved to hear of his adventures, though he had his own way of narrating them which always made him out innocent of any evil intention.

“There is nothing to tell.  It was in Naples.  A woman betrayed me and they bound me in my sleep.  In the morning I was condemned to death, thrown into a cart and dragged off to be hanged.  I thought it was all over, for the cords were new, so that I could not break them.  I tried hard enough!  But even if I had broken loose, I could never have fought my way through the crowd alone.  The noose was around my neck.”

He stopped, as if he had told everything.

“Go on!” said Arisa.  “How did you escape?  What an adventure!”