"Hast ever held communication with the Lady Varia?" Marius asked.
"I have served her," Nicanor answered.
Marius laughed, looking him up and down as though he had been a horse put up for sale.
"So I begin to think!" he muttered. "After what fashion, dog?"
Nicanor's eyes blazed beneath their shaggy brows; his brown hands clenched in fury.
"As a servant should," he said harshly.
Again Marius laughed.
"So! That drew blood, did it? What has passed between you? Have you, you base-born clod, dared draw her attention to you, and she a noble's daughter? Speak, you fool, if you would not die the death!"
Nicanor raised his head slowly and looked his questioner in the eyes, a defiance as direct as insolent bravado could make it. Marius's thin lips drew tighter.
"You refuse to answer, do you? Do you know that for this you will be broken on the rack at the lifting of my finger? And if you refuse to speak, this shall be done before another day is past. You have a chance now which you will not have again, to deny or to confess. And it is not every one who would give it!"