"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.
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