lf that Sophia had been wrong to
condemn him and that all was well with the girl.

"While we wait, Tilia," he said, "I would have a private word with you."

When they stepped out of the room Daoud said, "I want to see Rachel."

Tilia frowned and was silent for a moment. "In all honesty, she is well
and happy, and richer by nearly two thousand florins. Your companion
Sophia visited her and found nothing amiss. And the roast kid will get
cold."

Two thousand florins. Nearly enough, Daoud reckoned, to buy a mansion
like Ugolini's. But what of Rachel herself?

"Just take me to her, Madama."

* * * * *

When he first saw Rachel's surprised smile, he thought that she was
indeed well and happy, as Tilia had said. But then her dark gaze was
averted, her straight brows drawn together in a little frown. She
started playing with the gold lace on the hem of her white satin gown.

Daoud said. "Well, Rachel. You look like a queen sitting there."

Each woman at Tilia's had her special room, Daoud knew. The hangings in
Rachel's room were cream-colored, the tables and chairs and the bedposts
painted ivory, and the canopy over the bed was cloth-of-gold. She sat in
one corner of the bed, with her legs curled under her.

_It must have been on this bed that the Tartar had her._

"I am so pleased to see you, Messer David," she said in a low voice.
"How can I serve you?" She smiled at him, but his trained eye saw that
it was a false smile. And the hint of defiance he had noticed on first
meeting her in Rome was gone.

"Rachel, I only wanted to see with my own eyes that you are content here
and well treated."

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, and she shrugged. "I have never till now
known such comfort, Messer David."

Daoud realized that he should ask her about the Tartar. Tilia herself
had given him an account of Rachel's first night with John Chagan. The
pain Daoud felt at hearing what he had delivered Rachel to was relieved
only slightly by knowing that the Tartar had been surprisingly gentle
with her. At first, though, he had hated Tilia for being willing to risk
Rachel, and, impulsively, he had resolved to kill John. That made him
feel a little better, until, a moment later, he remembered that hating
Tilia and killing the Tartar would be no help whatever to Rachel. And
he, as much as anyone, was guilty of what had happened to her.

Since John Chagan's first visit, Daoud knew, he had been back t