“My price is three thousand lire.” Then, as he seemed to hesitate, I added from a cramped chest, “With an understanding between us as to her disposal.”
Paulos Angelos gave me a slight bow. “Your considerateness of her does you credit. I don’t think we would have trouble on that score. And I’ll not deny she’s worth more than that, in the eyes of a connoisseur. But the question is, what can I get for her? I was prepared to pay seven hundred bezants to make a quick sale to the duke at nine hundred. To please him, although against my better judgment, I might have paid eight hundred bezants. But it’s unthinkable that I would pay such a sum with nowhere to place her. I assure you, signor, that six hundred would be a very fair price indeed.”
“I’ve been offered six, and rejected it.”
“I see very little chance of my offering more than that. However, if you wish, I’ll look at the girl again. It may be I’ll see her as suiting some good customer.”
It was in my throat to tell him he must decide now—one thousand gold bezants and not a dinero less. At least she would be saved another inspection. What would I be saved? Was that what I was getting at? I must not work in the dark or shrink from the light. Did I fear that he would reject her or that he would accept her? I did not know. I was not only deeply torn but inordinately perplexed.
He was speaking again. . . .
“I can see her the day after tomorrow, if you’re at leisure then.”
“If you please, I’d rather you saw her today.”
He looked at me curiously, then with a winning half-smile, “I’ve been through it myself, young man,” he told me, with grave charm. “She’s the first you’ve owned, and truly beautiful. If you can afford to keep her for your own, I’d envy you.”
“I thank you for your expression.”
“Since I know you wouldn’t offer her to me if she weren’t a virgin, I’ll present myself at your abode at the second hour past noon.”
When I went home, I found Miranda seated in the sunlit window, mending with thimble and thread some of the household clothes. Her eyes rose slowly to meet mine.
“Miranda, the slave dealer Paulos Angelos will be here at two o’clock,” I told her, standing still in the middle of the floor.
“Am I to dress to be shown or to be taken away?”
“He’s coming to look at you with a view to buying you.”
“Don’t tell Mustapha Sheik until after his meal.”
Paulos Angelos came in what I thought was his richest dress. When he had paid due honors to the house, I escorted him to what Mustapha called our durbar—merely our best room overlooking the lagoon. Then I opened a door and summoned Miranda. She came in, light-footed, and took her stand by a window. Her eyes were darkly glimmering and her face was calm. Angelos looked at her a long time.
“Maiden, will you turn a little to the right?” he asked. . . . “Now a little to the left. . . . Signor, she’s more beautiful to my sight than the first time I saw her—but also, more nearly unique.”
“I take it that will affect the business in hand,” I answered.
“To some degree. I would prize her more, but find her harder to place. Signor, any price I offer for her is with the understanding that she is virginal and has no unsightly mark of canker.”
“I guarantee her virginity. She has a red scar from a severe burn on the sole of her right foot.”
“A brand?” Angelos asked, palpably startled.
“It might be called that. It’s in the shape of a crescent.”
“How did she come by it, signor?”
“She told me in confidence. I may say that it does her credit. You may look at it if you like, or make any examination you wish.”
“None is necessary. I’m prepared to make an offer for her.”
He paused, plainly waiting for me to dismiss Miranda from the room.
“If you have no objection, Messer Angelos, I’ll have her remain while we conclude our business,” I said on sudden impulse.
“I’ve no objection,” he replied, almost but not quite concealing his surprise. “It’s not customary, as you know, but if it won’t rowel her feelings——”
“I don’t think it will, and I’d like to have her hear what you tell me about your plans for her, in case you buy her, and the various clients to whom you would offer her. I’ll invite her to express her own hopes and wishes in these matters, to which I’ll pay heed.”
“They would influence me also, I’ve no doubt.” And Angelos gave her a slight bow.
“Would you like to stay, Miranda?” I asked.
“Yes, master.”
“Then seat yourself on the divan. Messer Angelos, will you now make your offer?”
“It’s seven hundred gold bezants. I have in mind to offer her for nine hundred to a Parisian perfumer living in Constantinople. He is a cultivated gentleman and quite rich. His art carries him on long journeys throughout the Farther Levant, buying musk, spikenard, attar of roses, and suchlike ingredients of fine perfumes. He sent me word that he wants a lovely young girl as his companion on these journeys. I can’t guarantee it, of course, but I have every reason to believe that Miranda would suit him admirably.”
“Miranda, would such a buyer suit you?” I asked.
“If I must be sold for concubinage, instead of for farm labor, he would suit me better than any buyer I’ve heard of so far.”
“Are there any questions you want to ask about him?”
“Only one, and I fear that Signor Angelos can’t answer it.”
“I’ll try,” Angelos said, his eyes oddly lighted.
“I’d like to know if he’s reputed to be kind.”
“I can tell you, with utmost confidence in my words, that he is. The faces of his slaves bear witness to it.”
“In that case, it would be a happier outcome than I had expected.”
The room fell silent. There was no movement either except for the almost unobservable ones of our bodies and the slow wheelings of dust motes in a broad shaft of sunlight coming through the window. It happened that I occupied the great chair—a ceremonial chair, I thought, that Mustapha had brought from some quiet schoolroom beyond the desert. Paulos appeared lost in reverie. It was hard to believe that he was thinking of so many lire profit, or of pleasing customers either. I wondered if he were wondering at fate.
Miranda’s presence gave the scene a profoundly moving quality. Her bare feet were together, her hands in her lap, her two long braids glistened like pale-colored gold, her eyes appeared dark and quiet under the arched brows. I had drunk to intoxication on her lips. My lips knew as eyes alone could never know the beauty of her breast; my hands were learned as to the loveliness of her whole flesh; my mind rejoiced in hers; my spirit bowed before hers, knowing it was greater than mine in all eyes that see. So why was I considering letting her go? I could keep her for my own! The incredible promise was true! I could have her waking and sleeping, eating and working, moon shining and moon hidden, in rain, sunlight, gray fog, mist of morning, black of midnight, in pain and in joy. She would cleave to me. I would grow in strength with her hand in mine. I would uncover great mysteries. I would plumb deep secrets.
Beautiful Miranda with the blood-red brand. You sit there, not trusting me to save you. Why then do you love me?
“Then it’s understood that if you buy her, you’ll do your best to sell her to this perfumer of whom you spoke.” So I heard myself speaking to the slave trader Paulos Angelos.
“Yes, signor.”
“Will you give him the first refusal of her, regardless of what offers you receive before then?”
“If we both live to meet again, I’ll do so. And if he won’t buy her, I’ll strive to satisfy her as to a purchaser.”
“Still, I can’t let her go for seven hundred gold pieces. My price is a thousand.”
“I’ll offer you eight hundred. If the Parisian will pay me nine hundred, I’ll barely come out moneywise, and have to take my profit in good will.”