"Tell me about it."
Arisa bent down eagerly, for she loved to hear of his adventures, though he had his own way of narrating them which always made him out innocent of any evil intention.
"There is nothing to tell. It was in Naples. A woman betrayed me and they bound me in my sleep. In the morning I was condemned to death, thrown into a cart and dragged off to be hanged. I thought it was all over, for the cords were new, so that I could not break them. I tried hard enough! But even if I had broken loose, I could never have fought my way through the crowd alone. The noose was around my neck."
He stopped, as if he had told everything.
"Go on!" said Arisa. "How did you escape? What an adventure!"
"One of my men saved me. He had a little learning, and could pass for a monk when he could get a cowl. He went out before it was daylight that morning, and exchanged clothes with a burly friar whom he met in a quiet place."
"But how did the friar agree to that?" asked Arisa in surprise.
"He had nothing to say. He was dead," answered Aristarchi.
"Do you mean to say that he chanced to find a dead friar lying in the road?" asked the Georgian.
"How should I know? I daresay the monk was alive when he met my man, and happened to die a few minutes afterwards—by mere chance. It was very fortunate, was it not?"