Contarini started and looked up at her face in the dim light. She was
bending down to him with a very loving look.
"Why should you not marry?" she asked again. "Why do you start and look
at me so strangely? Do you think I should care? Or that I am afraid of
another woman for you?"
"Yes. I should have thought that you would be jealous." He still gazed
at her in astonishment.
"Jealous!" she cried, and as she laughed she shook her beautiful head,
and the gold of her hair glittered in the flickering candle-light.
"Jealous? I? Look at me! Is she younger than I? I was eighteen years old
the other day. If she is younger than I, she is a child--shall I be
jealous of children? Is she taller, straighter, handsomer than I am?
Show her to me, and I will laugh in her face! Can she sing to you, as I
sing, in the summer nights, the songs you like and those I learned by
the Kura in the shadow of Kasbek? Is her hair brighter than mine, is her
hand softer, is her step lighter? Jealous? Not I! Will your rich wife be
your slave? Will she wake for you, sing for you, dance for you, rise up
and lie down at your bidding, work for you, live for you, die for you,
as I will? Will she love you as I can love, caress you to sleep, or wake
you with kisses at your dear will?"
"No--ah no! There is no woman in the world but you.
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