plying his lack of
resolution to release himself from his horrible servitude by any other
means; not from personal animosity toward the Countess Alessandra
Ammiani, known as la Vittoria. When seized, fear had urged him to escape.
Such was his second story. The points seemed irreconcilable to those who
were not in the habit of taking human nature into their calculations of a
possible course of conduct; even Wilfrid, though he was aware that Barto
Rizzo hated Vittoria inveterately, imagined Sarpo's first lie to have
necessarily fathered a second. But the second story was true: and the
something like lover's wrath with which the outrage to Vittoria fired
Pericles, prompted him to act on it as truth. He told Wilfrid that he
should summon Barto Rizzo to his presence. As the Government was unable
to exhibit so much power, Wilfrid looked sarcastic; whereupon Pericles
threw up his chin crying: "Oh! you shall know my resources. Now, my
friend, one bit of paper, and a messenger, and zen home to my house, to
Tokay and cigarettes, and wait to see." He remarked after pencilling a
few lines, "Countess d'Isorella is her enemy? hein!"

"Why, you wouldn't listen to me when I told you," said Wilfrid.

"No," Pericles replied while writing and humming over his pencil; "my ear
is a pelican-pouch, my friend; it--and Irma is her enemy also?--it takes
and keeps, but does not swallow till it wants. I shall hear you, and I
shall hear my Sandra Vittoria, and I shall not know you have spoken, when
by-and-by I tinkle, tinkle, a bell of my brain, and your word walks
in,--'quite well?'--'very well! '--sit down'--'if it is ze same to you, I
prefer to stand'--'good; zen I examine you.' My motto:--'Time opens ze
gates: my system: 'it is your doctor of regiment's system when your
twelve, fifteen, forty recruits strip to him:--'Ah! you, my man, have
varicose vein: no soldier in our regiment, you!' So on. Perhaps I am not
intelligible; but, hear zis. I speak not often of my money; but I say--it
is in your ear--a man of millions, he is a king!" The Greek jumped up and
folded a couple of notes. "I will not have her disturbed. Let her sing
now and awhile to Pericles and his public: and to ze Londoners, wiz your
permission, Count Ammiani, one saison. I ask no more, and I am satisfied,
and I endow your oldest child, signor Conte--it is said! For its mama was
a good girl, a brave girl; she troubled Pericles, because he is an
intellect; but he forgives when he se