er would get the better of the porter, had obligingly gone down
upon his hands and knees, thrusting his broad back under the captain's
feet, so that Aristarchi stood upon him and was now prepared to prolong
the interview without any further effort. His terrific shouts rang
through the corridor to the garden.

The first person to enter the little lodge was Marietta herself, and the
Greek broke off short in the middle of another tremendous yell as soon
as he saw her. She turned her face up to him, quite fearlessly, and was
very much inclined to laugh as she saw the sudden change in his
expression.

"Madam," he said with great politeness, "I beg you to forgive my manner
of announcing myself. If your porter were more obliging, I should have
been admitted in the ordinary way."

"What is this atrocious disturbance?" asked Zorzi, entering before
Marietta could answer. "Pray leave the fellow to me," he added, speaking
to Marietta, who cast one more glance at Aristarchi and went out.

"Sir," said the captain blandly, "I admit that my behaviour may give you
some right to call me 'fellow,' but I trust that my apology will make
you consider me a gentleman like yourself. Your porter altogether
refused to take a message to Messer Angelo Beroviero. May I ask whether
you are his son, sir?"

"No, sir. You say that you wish to speak with the master. I can take a
message to him, but I am not sure that he will see any one to-day."

Aristarchi imagined that Beroviero made himself inaccessible, in order
to increase the general idea of his wealth and importance. He resolved
to convey a strong impression of his own standing.

"I am the chief partner in a great house of Greek merchants settled in
Palermo," he said. "My name is Charalambos Aristarchi, and I desire the
honour of speaking with Messer Angelo about the purchase of several
cargoes of glass for the King of Sicily."

"I will deliver your message, sir," said Zorzi. "Pray wait a minute, I
will open the door."

Aristarchi's big head disappeared at last.

"Yes!" growled the porter to Zorzi. "Open the door yourself, and take
the blame. The man has the face of a Turkish pirate, and his voice is
like the bellowing of several bulls."

Zorzi unbarred the door, which opened inward, and Aristarchi turned a
little sideways in order to enter, for his shoulders would have touched
the two door-posts. The slight and gracefully built Dalmatian looked at
him with some curiosity, standing as