"See you!" he answered, with a sort of leering laugh about the corners of his wicked mouth. "I will tell you why I hate her--yes--I will tell you, because you are a man and strong. I like strong men--they are sometimes fooled by women, it is true--but then they can take revenge. I was strong myself once. And you--you are old--but you love a jest--you will understand. The Romani woman has done me no harm. She laughed--once. That was when her horses knocked me down in the street. I was hurt--but I saw her red lips widen and her white teeth glitter--she has a baby smile--the people will tell you--so innocent! I was picked up--her carriage drove on--her husband was not with her--he would have acted differently. But it is no matter--I tell you she laughed--and then I saw at once the likeness."
"The likeness!" I exclaimed impatiently, for his story annoyed me. "What likeness?"
"Between her and my wife," the dealer replied, fixing his cruel eyes upon me with increasing intensity of regard. "Oh, yes! I know what love is. I know too that God had very little to do with the making of women. It was a long time before even He could find the Madonna. Yes--yes, I know! I tell you I married a thing as beautiful as a morning in spring-time--with a little head that seemed to droop like a flower under its weight of sunbeam hair--and eyes! ah--like those of a tiny child when it looks up and asks you for kisses. I was absent once--I returned and found her sleeping tranquilly--yes! on the breast of a black-browed street-singer from Venice--a handsome lad enough and brave as a young lion. He saw me and sprung at my throat--I held him down and knelt upon his chest--she woke and gazed upon us, too terrified to speak or scream--she only shivered and made a little moaning sound like that of a spoiled baby. I looked down into her prostrate lover's eyes and smiled. 'I will not hurt you,' I said. 'Had she not consented, you could not have gained the victory. All I ask of you is to remain here for a few moments longer.' He stared, but was mute. I bound him hand and foot so that he could not stir. Then I took my knife and went to her. Her blue eyes glared wide--imploringly she turned them upon me--and ever she wrung her small hands and shivered and moaned. I plunged the keen bright blade deep through her soft white flesh--her lover cried out in agony--her heart's blood welled up in a crimson tide, staining with a bright hue the white garments she wore; she flung up her arms--she sank back on her pillows--dead. I drew the knife from her body, and with it cut the bonds of the Venetian boy. I then gave it to him.