"I have come to bid you farewell, my lady. Farewell and thank you for performing so magnificently your part in the contract between us. I must not inflict on you any longer a presence which must revive unpleasant memories for you."
"Never think that," Marianne cried impulsively. "You have been very good to me, and very kind. Why must you leave me so soon? There is no hurry."
She meant it. For the life of her, she could not have said what made her say it. Why was she trying to keep her strange husband by her when all her hopes were now centered on Jason and she looked forward to a life of happiness with him?
The prince smiled, the shy smile which sat with such a curious charm on that face as of a heathen god.
"It is kind of you to say so, but there is no need to pretend or try to make me believe the impossible. I came to tell you that you are free now to live your own life. Thanks to you, I have a son and heir. Now you may follow your own destiny wherever it may lead you. I will help you, for it is my greatest wish to see you happy… Whatever you decide to do, whether you continue to bear my name or whether you wish to be rid of it as soon as possible, be sure that I shall still see to it that you want for nothing."
"Sir!" Marianne protested, her pride stung.
"Do not be offended. I mean the mother of my son to continue to enjoy the position which is hers by right of birth and beauty. You may remain here until you are quite recovered and when you wish to leave one of my ships will take you wherever you wish to go."
She smiled again, with an unintentional touch of coquetry.
"Why must we talk of this tonight? I am still very tired and my thoughts are a little confused. Tomorrow I shall be better and we can consider together—"
He seemed to be on the point of saying something but suddenly thought better of it and instead bowed deeply in the eastern fashion and murmured quickly: "Permit me to bid Your Highness a good night."
"But—" Marianne began in some bewilderment. Then she broke off, understanding the reason for his sudden change of attitude. Trembling with joy, she watched the door thrust open by a masterful hand and Jason stepped into the room.
She realized at once the reason for Corrado's withdrawal and made no attempt to detain him. It would not be fitting for Turhan Bey to pay more than a brief courtesy visit to his guest, the Princess Sant'Anna. In fact, she had ceased to be aware of his presence at all. Her eyes, her heart and her whole mind were focused on the man who had just entered.
The two men, however, greeted one another with the utmost politeness and Jason's voice sounded unwontedly deferential for a slave owner as he said: "I have to thank you, Turhan Bey, for your advice and counsel. If I may, I should like to come and discuss it with you shortly. I must see you before I leave."
"Come whenever you like, Mr. Beaufort. I shall be expecting you."
He went away at once after that. But Marianne had grasped only one thing from this exchange of civilities. Jason had spoken of leaving! Almost before the door had closed behind the prince, she had framed the question—and made up her mind.
"You are leaving? Then I am coming with you."
Jason walked unhurriedly up to the bed and, bending, took her hand and dropped a swift kiss on it. Then, still holding it between his own, he looked at her with a smile which did not reach his eyes or smooth out the anxious creases from his brow.
"We have always agreed that I was to go, and that it would be tonight," he said bluntly, yet with as much gentleness as he could.
"As to coming with me, you know quite well that is impossible."
"Why? Because of my condition? But that is all over! I am quite well, I assure you! To go with you, I have only to be carried down to the landing stage and from there a boat will take us straight to the Sea Witch. Surely you can carry me that far?" she added, tenderly teasing him. "I am not very heavy."
But his face held no hint of a smile.
"Yes, that would be easy enough, but your health is not the only difficulty."
"Then what is it?" she cried angrily. "Your own feelings? You don't want to take me, is that it?"
Her face was very flushed and her eyes a little too bright, as though with a fever. Jason tightened his clasp on her hands, which felt suddenly burning hot to his touch.
"I cannot take you," he corrected her firmly but very gently. "For one thing, you are not as strong as you think and it will be several days yet before you can leave your bed. You have been through a perilous ordeal and the doctor is adamant. But that is not the main reason. I cannot take you because it is quite simply impossible. Turhan Bey has been with you. Did he say nothing?"
"Should he have? I have only just woken up and had my supper. He only came in to say good evening…"
"Then I'll explain what has happened."
Sitting on the edge of the bed to be nearer to her, Jason gave Marianne a rapid sketch of what Gracchus and O'Flaherty had discovered.
"Our host has had inquiries made in the city during the day," he said, "which was perfectly natural since the brig bore his colors and was supposed to belong to him. He didn't like that story of a man dying suddenly of the cholera, or the speed with which the body was burned."
"Why not? So far as I can gather, cholera isn't exactly unusual here."
"No, but it's more usual in summer. And if you have sufficient influence, there's nothing simpler than to get hold of a body and dress it up appropriately and then burn it in a hurry. Turhan Bey thinks it is a ploy invented by the English to keep the vessel under observation, and he knows what he's talking about. So far it's certainly succeeded brilliantly."
"But then you can't go—you will have to wait! For forty days at least."
Her simple pleasure in the fact did nothing to lighten Jason's frown. Moving closer to her, he let go her hands and, taking her by the shoulders instead, spoke earnestly into her face.
"My darling, you don't understand. I must go and go now. Sanders is waiting for me at Messina so that we can try the Gibraltar passage together. If I want to join him, I will have to do what I failed to do the other night. I must steal my ship and escape that way."
"But that is madness! How will you manage without a crew? She's not a fishing boat!"
"I know that just as well as you do. I managed to get together enough men to work the ship out of Constantinople the other night. I'm better off today. Craig O'Flaherty is waiting at Galata with a few men he's managed to round up from the taverns there. They're not first-rate seamen but they are seamen of a sort, Europeans, too, who are tired of the east. And if you will entrust him to me, I'll take young Gracchus also. He wants to sail with me."
"Gracchus?"
Marianne felt a bitter pang in her heart. So Gracchus, too, wanted to leave her? In the time since she had first begun to put down roots in French soil, the urchin from the rue Montorgueil, the grandson of the laundress of the rue de la Revolte, had become much more than a servant to her. He had been a faithful friend, one she could trust and rely on. His devotion to her had been absolute. But it had not taken Jason long to win some of his heart, and Gracchus loved him almost as much as he loved Marianne and admired him deeply. Then the voyage aboard the Sea Witch had finally shown the youthful coachman the path of his dreams. The sea, with all its beauty and its tricks, its splendors and its perils, had become a real vocation and, remembering the boy's eagerness in the skirmish with the English frigates off Corfu, Marianne thought that she had no right to stand in his way.
"Take him, then," she said quickly. "I give him to you because I know he will be much happier with you. But why must you go so soon, Jason? Why not wait a little while—only a few days, so that I can—"