"Master porter," he began in a friendly tone, "can you tell me who that
beautiful lady is, who came here a moment ago?"
"There is no reason why I should," snarled the porter, beginning to
strip the outer leaves from a large onion which he pulled from a string
of them hanging by the wall.
Aristarchi said nothing for a few moments, but watched the man with an
air of interest.
"Were you ever a pirate?" he inquired presently.
"No, I never served in your crew."
The porter was not often at a loss for a surly answer. The Greek laughed
outright, in genuine amusement.
"I like your company, my friend," he said. "I should like to spend the
day here."
"As the devil said to Saint Anthony," concluded the porter.
Aristarchi laughed again. It was long since he had enjoyed such amusing
conversation, and there was a certain novelty in not being feared. He
repeated his first question, however, remembering that he had not come
in search of diversion, but to gather information.
"Who was the beautiful lady?" he asked. "She is Messer Angelo's
daughter, is she not?"
"A man who asks a question when he knows the answer is either a fool or
a knave. Choose as you please."
"Thanks, friend," answered Aristarchi, still grinning and showing his
jagged teeth.
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