There were days when he was reduced to borrowing money
for his actual needs, and though an occasional stroke of good fortune at
play temporarily relieved him, Arisa was sure that he was constantly
sinking deeper into debt. But within the week, the aspect of his affairs
had changed. The marriage with Marietta had been proposed, and Arisa had
made a discovery. She told Aristarchi everything, as naturally as she
would have concealed everything from Contarini.
"We shall be rich," she said, twining her white arms round his swarthy
neck and looking up into his murderous eyes with something like genuine
adoration. "We shall get the wife's dowry for ourselves, by degrees,
every farthing of it, and it shall be the dower of Aristarchi's bride
instead. I shall not be portionless. You shall not be ashamed of me when
you meet your old friends."
"Ashamed!" His arm pressed her to him till she longed to cry out for
pain, yet she would not have had him less rough.
"You are so strong!" she gasped in a broken whisper. "Yes--a little
looser--so! I can speak now. You must go to Murano to-morrow and find
out all about this Angelo Beroviero and his daughter. Try to see her,
and tell me whether she is pretty, but most of all learn whether she is
really rich.
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