Then the pirate’s promised bride lowered her voice again, and did not raise her tones until she saw in imagination the fulfilment of the judgment which she was calling down upon the man who had torn her heart with such pitiless cruelty.

Was this the happiness predicted for her on the night of the full moon?  It might be, and, radiant with secret joy, her eyes sparkling and her bosom heaving as if her foot was already on the breast of the fallen foe, she assured Hanno that the gold and the ivory should belong to him, and to him alone; but not until he had delivered the base traitor to her alive, and left his punishment in her hands, would she be ready to go with him wherever he wished—­not until then, and not one moment earlier.

The pirate, with a proud “I’ll capture him!” consented to this condition; but Ledscha, in hurried words, now described how she had planned the attack, while the corsair, at her bidding, plied the oars so as to bring the boat nearer to the scene of the assault.

The vulture followed the skiff; but when it stopped opposite to the large white building, one side of which was washed by the waves, Ledscha pointed to the windows of Hermon’s studio, exclaiming hoarsely to the young pirate:  “You will seize him there—­the Greek with the long, soft black beard, and the slender figure, I mean.  Then you will bind and gag him, but, you hear, without killing him, for I can only inflict what he deserves upon the living man.  I am not bargaining for a dead one.”

Just at that instant the bird of prey, with a shrill, greedy cry, as if it were invited to a delicious banquet, flew far away into the distance and did not return.  It flew toward the left; the girl noticed it, and her heavy black eyebrows, which already met, contracted still more.  The direction taken by the bird, which soon vanished in the darkness of the night, indicated approaching misfortune; but she was here only to sow destruction, and the more terrible growth it attained the better!

With an acuteness which aroused the admiration of the young corsair, who was trained to similar plots, she explained hers.

That they must wait until after the departure of the Alexandrian with her numerous train, and for the first dark night, was a matter of course.

One signal was to notify Hanno to hold himself in readiness, another to inform him that every one in the white house had gone to rest, and that Hermon was there too.  The pirates were to enter the black-bearded Greek’s studio.  While some were shattering his statues to carry away in sacks the gold and ivory which they contained, others were to force their way into Myrtilus’s workroom, which was on the opposite side of the house.  There they would find the second statue; but this they must spare, because, on account of the great fame of its creator, it was more valuable than the other.  The fair-haired artist was ill, and it would be no difficult matter to take him alive, even if he should put himself on the defensive.  Hermon, on the contrary, was a strong fellow, and to bind him without injuring him severely would require both strength and skill.  Yet it must be done, for only in case Hanno succeeded in delivering both sculptors to her alive would she consider herself—­she could not repeat it often enough—­bound to fulfil what she had promised him.