A slight flush rose in his brown cheek, as he felt his shyness increase, but he kept his eyes steadily on her.
'You do not seem to be afraid of me any longer,' he said, by way of answer.
'Have I anything to fear from you?' she asked, in a trusting tone.
She risked everything on the question, or thought she did. She won. His face changed and softened, for by appealing to his generosity she had put him at ease.
'No,' he answered. 'You never were in danger from me. Besides,' he added, with something like an effort, 'I have not made up my mind what to do with you.'
Zoë sat up straight, resting one hand on the edge of the little table.
'The truth is,' he went on, 'I did not buy you for myself.'
Zoë made a quick movement in her seat. Then her tender mouth hardened in a look of contempt.
'So you are only another slave-dealer!' she cried scornfully. But Zeno laughed at the mere idea, and was glad to laugh. It was a relief.
'No,' he said, 'I am not a slave-dealer. I am a Venetian merchant, I believe. I have been a soldier, and I came near being a prebendary!'