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Updated: June 28, 2025
Arisa looked on with savage interest, for she believed that it was some horrible instrument of torture; and indeed it was the iron gag, the 'pear of anguish, which the torturers used in those days, to silence those whom they called their patients. Holding the instrument closed, Aristarchi pushed his hand under the cushion.
"Is Captain Aristarchi going to sea at last?" asked the man who had not spoken yet. "Or do you mean some other captain?" "That is the name, I believe," said Pasquale. "It was an outlandish name like that. Do you ever see him about the docks? I saw him once, a piece of man, I tell you, with bones like a bull and a face like a bear." "He is not often seen," answered the man who had spoken last.
Aristarchi already stood in the doorway taking leave of Beroviero with, many oily protestations of satisfaction in having made his acquaintance. Zorzi went forward to accompany the Greek to the door. "I shall never forget that I have had the honour of being received by the great artist himself," said Aristarchi, who held his big cap in his hand and was bowing low on the threshold.
"Do you mean to kill him?" asked Arisa in a whisper, though it was quite safe for them to talk in natural tones. "I could go behind him and throw something over his head." Aristarchi grinned, and pressed her beautiful head to his breast, caressing her with his rough hands. "You are as bloodthirsty as a little tigress," he said. "No. I do not even mean to hurt him."
Jacopo turned suddenly, when he judged that he could leave the church without overtaking Beroviero, and he walked quietly down the nave. He passed close to Arisa, and Aristarchi guessed that their eyes met for a moment. He almost fancied that Contarini's lips moved, and he was sure that he smiled.
"The man is a fool!" said Aristarchi again. "He puts himself in their power." "He is much more completely in ours," answered Arisa. "The servants believe that his friends come to play dice. And so they do. But they come for something more serious." Aristarchi moved his massive head suddenly to an attitude of profound attention. "They are plotting against the Republic," whispered Arisa.
"It belongs to Messer Angelo Beroviero. His glass-house takes up all the left aide of the canal as far as the bridge." "And beyond the bridge I can see two new houses, on the same side. Whose are they?" "They belong to the two sons of Messer Angelo Beroviero, who have furnaces of their own, all the way to the corner of the Grand Canal." "Is there a Grand Canal in Murano?" asked Aristarchi.
"It was not far from that," Zorzi continued. "Aristarchi lives there. The mate went back to the ship, I suppose, and Aristarchi's servant gave us supper. Then we slept quietly till morning and I stayed there all day, but Aristarchi thought it would not be safe to keep me in his house the next night that was last night. He said he feared that a certain lady had guessed where I was.
The boatman, anxious for drink money, and convinced that his huge employer would get the better of the porter, had obligingly gone down upon his hands and knees, thrusting his broad back under the captain's feet, so that Aristarchi stood upon him and was now prepared to prolong the interview without any further effort. His terrific shouts rang through the corridor to the garden.
I did not know him when he came to the foot of the gallows, howling out that I was innocent." "Were you?" asked Arisa. "Of course I was," answered Aristarchi with conviction. "Who was the man that had been killed?" "I forget his name," said the Greek. "He was a Neapolitan gentleman of great family, I believe. I forget the name. He had red hair." Arisa laughed and stroked Aristarchi's big head.
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