Vendramin flung a hearty greeting to them all, and stooped to kiss the hand of the seated Vicomtesse.

As he straightened himself, his smiling eyes met those of Marc-Antoine.

'Ah, Monsieur l'Anglais! You, too, are here. Still lingering in Venice. You threaten to become permanently domiciled.'

'The enchantment of Venice is an abundant justification. But I don't like "threaten." I am not a menace, Ser Leonardo.'

'Not a serious one. No,' said Vendramin, in a tone that set them staring. 'And I can understand that these our enchantments should lay a potent spell upon one accustomed to a barbarous northern country.'

There was a stir at this. But Marc-Antoine, whilst mystified, continued easily to smile.

'Alas, yes! We are barbarians up there. So we come to Venice to improve our manners; to study the elegancies of deportment, the courtesies of phrase.'

Major Sanfermo laughed outright at the sly hit, and some laughed with him, hoping to end the matter thus.

'You come then to achieve the impossible; to grow figs on thistles.'

Marc-Antoine could no longer be in doubt of Vendramin's purpose, however little he might understand the reason for it. But, unruffled, he avoided Sanfermo's uneasy, warning glance.

'You judge us harshly, Ser Leonardo. Possibly you will not have known many Englishmen.'

'As many as desirable. I have known you.'

'I see. And so with you it is ex uno omnes.' No tone or manner could have been more amiable. 'But it is bad reasoning to assume that the shortcomings discerned in one poor Englishman are common to all his fellow-countrymen. Even if you had been the only Venetian I had ever met, I should still hesitate to believe that all Venetians are crude and mannerless, stupid and vulgar.'

There was a sudden hush about them. Vendramin was looking white and ugly. Roughly he shook off the clutch of the Vicomtesse, who had risen in alarm.

'That will suffice, I think. None could expect me to suffer quite so much. My friend here, Messer Nani, will have the honour to wait upon you at your lodging.'

Marc-Antoine looked innocent surprise. 'To what end?'

There was a hubbub about them, for by now most of the occupants of the anteroom had been attracted to the spot. The Vicomtesse was begging Sanfermo to intervene, imploring Nani not to heed his friend.

Then Vendramin, thrusting back those who pressed about him, made himself heard. 'Do you ask me to what end? You'll know something, I suppose, even in England, of satisfaction between gentlemen.'

'I see. I see,' said Marc-Antoine, with the air of one penetrated at last by understanding. 'Forgive my dullness. It arises from our different codes. I do not know what I may have done to invite this provocation. But I do know that there are certain circumstances which it seemed to me must make impossible in honour a meeting between us. It would certainly be impossible in barbarian England. And even now I can hardly believe that this is how you pay your debts in Venice.'

'Pay our debts? What the devil do you mean?'

'Oh, but is it possible that I am obscure?'

He was still the essence of urbanity, and still supremely at ease. Carelessly he flicked a speck from his laces as he spoke. But under this serenity a wickedness was stirring. There had been so many reasons why he could not himself have taken the easy road of provoking Vendramin. But since the fool delivered himself so into Marc-Antoine's hands, he should have full measure. Marc-Antoine would spare him nothing. He would humble him to the dust, strip the fine coat from this detestable fellow's shoulders and reveal the ulcers it covered.

'I must be plainer, then. In the last three months, Vendramin, you have borrowed from me various sums amounting in all to about a thousand ducats. It does not suit me that you should cancel the debt by killing me. Nor does it suit me to lose my money by killing you. No man of honour would compel me to put the matter quite so plainly.'

Vendramin's face was the colour of lead. Here was a foul, cowardly blow that he had not expected.

He strove with Nani and the Vicomtesse, who were holding him, and then suddenly he fell still to hear Major Sanfermo's vibrant exclamation.

'You are right, by God! no man of honour would.'

'My affair just now is with this Englishman, Major Sanfermo; this coward who shelters himself behind his ducats.'

But Marc-Antoine was concerned to shelter himself no longer. His wicked purpose had been served. For Vendramin there were now only scornful eyes and hostile mutterings.

'Oh! If you call my courage in question, that is entirely another matter, ducats or no ducats.' He bowed to Nani. 'I shall have the honour of expecting you, sir.'

Even as the gleam of satisfaction leapt to Vendramin's eyes, it was quenched by Nani's unexpected answer.

'I carry no messages for Messer Vendramin.'

'Nor will any other Venetian gentleman,' added Major Sanfermo.

Vendramin looked about him, bewildered, furious, everywhere to meet eyes of condemnation. He understood now to the full how Melville had dealt with him. For an instant he was shaken. Then he rallied his wits and his courage.

'You are very quick to conclude, and very quick to condemn. As rash, indeed, as Mr. Melville. It does not occur to you, any more than it occurred to him, that a man of honour would liquidate his debts before meeting his creditor. You make it necessary that I should tell you that Mr. Melville shall be paid to the last ducat before we meet.'

'You will be putting the meeting off indefinitely,' sneered Balbi.

Vendramin turned on him sharply. 'Your irony is wasted, Balbi. I count upon meeting Mr. Melville tomorrow, or the next day at the latest. And I shall not want for a gentleman to carry my message, without troubling any of you.'

He swung on his heel, and went out, swaying more than ever from the hips in his walk.

Marc-Antoine laughed softly. 'He had the last word, after all.'

They were closing in upon him, men and women, volubly condemning Vendramin, whilst scarcely a man amongst them, in his eagerness to vindicate the Venetian character, did not offer his service to Mr. Melville in what might follow.

The Vicomtesse in an obvious agitation hung on the skirts of the little crowd. At first she had made shift to follow Vendramin when he had left. Thinking better of it, she had turned again; and in her eyes Marc-Antoine could read now the anxiety with which she waited for a word with him.

When presently he was departing, she made the opportunity by requesting his escort to her gondola which waited at the Piazzetta steps.

As they came out under the arcades of the square, she hung heavily on his arm. She was wearing mask and bauta, for they were in October now, from when until the following Lent the mask was worn so commonly in Venice that scarcely a lady of quality would show her uncovered face abroad.

'What have you done, monsieur?' she wailed. 'What have you done?'

'I could answer you better if I knew for whom you are concerned; for me or for him.'

'I am concerned for you both.'

'Be reassured, then. We shall not both die.'

'Oh, in God's name, do not jest about it. There must be no meeting between you.'

'You will prevail upon him to apologize?'

'If necessary, I will endeavour.'

'There's a more certain way,' said Marc-Antoine. They were crossing the square in the dusk. Lights gleamed from shops under the procuratie. The stained-glass windows of Saint Mark's ahead of them glowed like colossal jewels, and the rhythmic pealing of bells was in the air, for this was Saint Theodore's Eve. 'There's the condition attaching to this meeting. He is first to pay me a matter of a thousand ducats. If when he comes to borrow the money from you, you deny him, that will settle the matter.'

Amazement robbed her of breath for a moment. 'Why . . . why should you suppose that he would come to me for the money?'

'The answer is a simple one. Because he has nowhere else to go. No one else—forgive me—would be so foolish as to lend it to him.'

She reflected. 'You are quick. Quick and shrewd.' Her little nervous laugh was an admission. 'Do you promise me that unless he pays you the money you will not meet him?'

'I swear it.'

She seemed to breathe more freely. She swore in her turn that Vendramin should not have a sequin from her.

And upon that oath she acted when, on arrival home, she found Vendramin awaiting her.

Her refusal left him stricken. Her assertion that she could not procure the money, or even half that sum, threw him into a passion. He pointed to the string of pearls about her neck, to the brilliants flashing in her solitaire. Did she hold these baubles dearer than his honour?

This roused on her side a royally responsive anger. Was she to strip herself naked so that he might be clothed? How much money had he had from her in these last six months? Did he know that it amounted to more than five thousand ducats? If he denied or doubted it, she could bring him the drafts which Vivanti's Bank had honoured, all bearing his signature in proof that he had received the money.

He looked at her with dull eyes. 'If you won't help me, Anne, in God's name, what am I to do?'

He sprawled dejectedly on her brocade couch. She stood over him, white-faced, almost contemptuous.

'What need had you to vent your spleen against him? Why did you not think of this, you fool, before you deliberately put this quarrel on him?