Ayesha glanced over her shoulder at her lord and master. He was plainly not looking at her. She turned her face to the wall and chuckled.
"Do you hear?" shouted Kostakes. "Throw away that cigarette and come here."
Ferende turned as pale as death, but called to Ayesha, sweetly:
"Don't you hear the Effendi, Ayesha? Run!"
Kostakes sprang to his feet, and strode toward Ferende with uplifted riding whip.
"None of that, you lazy drab! Who is master in this house, you or I? Come and pull off my boots or I'll cut blood out of you!"
[Illustration: Come and pull off my boots or I'll lash you]
Ferende obeyed, with a half counterfeit of a smile upon her pale lips, and revenge in her heart.
"How long before dinner will be ready?" Kostakes called to Ayesha.
"Call me as soon as it is ready. I shall be up in Panayota's room."
Then an idea came to Ferende. She threw away her cigarette, crossed the court and disappeared in the house. Souleima ran after, and hiding behind the wall, peeped within. She saw Ferende step out of her slippers and tiptoe up the stairs towards the room into which Kostakes had just disappeared. Souleima waited until she was out of sight and then followed.
Ayesha, overcome by woman's curiosity, that passion which fears neither death nor shame, clapped the fish, now ready for the pan, into a drawer of the table.
"I must know what's going on," she muttered, as she stole into the house.
Panayota was lying face down upon the bed, but when she heard heavy footsteps in the hall and the scratching of the key upon the door, as some one outside fumbled at the lock, she sprang to her feet and backed to the wall at the farther side of the room. She cast her eyes about the bare, dim room, as though there must be some way of escape, moaning, meanwhile:
"Little Virgin, save me! O, my God, what shall I do?"
When Kostakes entered he found her thus, her fists clenched, her lips white. She was looking at him, with great eyes of fear and horror, and she scarcely seemed to breathe. There was in her attitude the alertness of a hunted cat, that hopes to make a sudden dash for liberty and to escape even at the last moment.
"In the name of Allah, Panayota," he said tenderly, "why are you so frightened? Have I not told you I would not touch a hair of your head?"