“What business may have brought you hither to-night, good Captain Verrina?” he inquired in a tone of ill-subdued apprehension.
“Not to frighten thee out of thy wits, good Isaachar,” responded Stephano, laughing.
“Ah! ha!” exclaimed the Jew, partially reassured: “perhaps you have come to repay me the few crowns I had the honor to lend you—without security, and without interest——”
“By my patron saint! thou wast never more mistaken in thy life, friend Isaachar!” interrupted the robber chief. “The few crowns you speak of, were neither more nor less than a tribute paid on consideration that my men should leave unscathed the dwelling of worthy Isaachar ben Solomon: in other words, that thy treasures should be safe at least from them.”
“Well—well! be it so!” cried the Jew. “Heaven knows I do not grudge the amount in question—although,” he added slowly, “I am compelled to pay almost an equal sum to the syndic.”
“The syndic of Alla Croce and the captain of the banditti are two very different persons,” returned Stephano. “The magistrate protects you from those over whom he has control: and I, on my side, guaranty you against the predatory visits of those over whom I exercise command. But let us to business.”
“Ay—to business!” echoed the Jew, anxious to be relieved from the state of suspense into which this visit had thrown him.
“You are acquainted with the young, beautiful, and wealthy Countess of Arestino, Isaachar?” said the bandit.
The Jew stared at him in increased alarm, now mingled with amazement.
“But, in spite of all her wealth,” continued Stephano, “she was compelled to pledge her diamonds to thee, to raise the money wherewith to discharge a gambling debt contracted by her lover, the high-born, handsome, but ruined Marquis of Orsini.”