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This was the sordid lie I had first perceived in her。 A kinsman； a Florentine banker； kept her in terror。 Indeed it was he who had brought her here； provided her with her nest of lovely chambers and ever playing music。 It was he who demanded of her that the poison be placed in the proper cup to do away with those he chose。
HOW calmly her blue eyes passed over those who drank the fatal potion。 How calmly she watched as the poetry was read to her。 How calmly she smiled at me when her eyes happened to fall upon the tall blond…haired man who observed her from the corner。 And how deep her despair！
Armed with this new knowledge； no； driven to distraction by it； I went out into the night roaming； for now I had the proof on her of guilt immeasurable！ Was this not sufficient to bring her over； to force the Dark Blood upon her； and then say； 〃No； my darling； I haven't taken your life； I've given you eternity with me！〃
Beyond the city I walked the country roads for hours； sometimes pounding my forehead with the heels of my palms。
I want her； I want her； I want her。 But I could not bring myself to do it。 At last I went home to paint her portrait。 And night after night； I painted her portrait again。 I painted her as the Virgin of theAnnunciation； and the Virgin with Child。 I painted her as the Virgin in the Lamentation。 I painted her as Venus； as Flora； I painted her on small panels that I brought to her。 1 painted her until I could endure it no longer。 I slumped on the floor of rny painting room； and when the apprentices came to me in the dark hours of the dawn； they thought me sick and cried out。
But I couldn't bring harm to her。 I couldn't bring my Evil Blood to her。 I couldn't take her over to me； and now a most great and grotesque quality attached itself to her in my eyes。
She was evil as I was evil； and when I watched her from the corner of her room； I fancied that I studied a thing which was like unto myself。
For her life； she dispatched her victims。 For my life； I drank human blood。
And so this tender girl； in her costly gowns with her long blond locks and soft cheeks； took on a dark majesty for me； and I was fascinated by her more than ever before。
One night； so great was my pain； so dire was my need to separate myself from this young woman； that I went alone in my gondola； telling my oarsman to row back and forth through the smallest canals of the city and not bring me back to the palazzo until I gave the mand。
What did I seek？ The smell of death and rats in the blackest waters； The occasional merciful flashes of the moon。
I lay down in the boat； my head on my pillow。 I listened to the voices of the city so that I would not hear my own。
And quite suddenly； as we came into the wider canals again； as。 we came into a certain district of Venice； there came a voice quite different from all the others； for it was speaking from a desperate and deranged mind。
In a flash I saw an image behind the cry of this voice； the image of a painted face。 Indeed； I saw the paint laid on in marvelous strokes。 I knew the painted face。 It was the face of Christ！
What did this mean？ In a solemn silence； I listened。 No other voice mattered to me。 I banished a city full of whispers。
It was a woeful crying。 It was the voice of a child behind thick walls who on account of the recent cruelties done him could not remember his native language or even his name。
Yet in that forgotten language he prayed to be delivered from those who had cast him down in darkness； those who had tormented him and jabbered at him in a tongue he didn't know。
Once again there came that image； the painted Christ staring forward。 The painted Christ in a time…honored and Greek style。 Oh； how well I knew this fashion of painting； oh； how well I knew this countenance。
Had I not seen it a thousand times in Byzantium； and in all those places East and West to which its power had reached？
What did this mean； this mingled voice and imagery？ What did it mean that the child thought again and again of an ikon and did riot know that he prayed？
Once again there came the plea from one who thought himself to be utterly silent。
And I knew the language in which he prayed。 It was no matter to me to disentangle it； to put the words in order； having as I did such a knowledge of languages the world wide。 Yes； I knew his tongue and I knew his prayer。 〃Dear God； deliver me。 Dear God； let me die。〃
A frail child； a hungry child； a child who was alone。
Sitting up in the gondola； I listened。 I delved for the images locked away inside the child's most wordless thoughts。
He had once been a painter； this bruised and young one。 The face of Christ had been his work。 He had once mixed the egg yolk and the pigment just as I mixed them。 He had once painted the face of Christ； again and again！
Whence came this voice？ I had to discover the source of it。 I listened with all my skill。
Somewhere very near； this child was imprisoned。 Somewhere very near； he offered up his prayer with his last breath。
He had painted his precious ikons in the far country of snowy Russia。
Indeed； this child had been supremely gifted in the painting of ikons。 But he could not remember that now。 That was the mystery。 That was the plexity！ He could not even see the images which I was seeing； so broken was his heart。
I could understand what he himself could not understand。 And he was pleading silently with Heaven in a Russian dialect to be delivered from those who had made him a slave in Venice and sought to make him serve others in a brothel through acts which to him were sins of the flesh which he could not abide！
I told my oarsman to stop。
I listened until I had found the exact source。 I directed the boat to go back only a few doors until I found the precise place。
The torches were burning brightly before the entrance。 I could hear the music inside。
The voice of the child was persistent； and yet there came that clear understanding on my part that the child did not know his own prayers； his own history； his own tongue。
I was greeted by the owners of the house with great fanfare。 They knew of me。 I must e in。 I could have whatever I wanted under their roof。 Just beyond the door lay paradise。 Listen to the laughter； and the singing。
〃What do you desire； Master？〃 a pleasant…voiced man asked of me。 〃You can tell me。 We have no secrets here。〃
I stood listening。 How reticent I must have seemed…this tall； blond…haired man with such a chilly manner； who cocked his head to one side and looked away wifh his thoughtful blue eyes。
I tried to see the boy； but I could not。 The boy was locked away where no one saw him。 How would I proceed？ Ask to see all of the boys of the house？ That would not do it； for this one was in a chamber of punishment； cold arid quite alone。
Then suddenly the answer came to me as though angels had spoken it； or was it the Devil？ It came swiftly and pletely。
〃To purchase； you understand；〃 I said； 〃with gold of course； and now； a boy you want to be rid of。 One recently arrived here who will not do as he's told…〃
In a flash I saw the boy in the man's eyes。 Only it could not be true。 I could not have such luck。 For this boy had beauty as bountiful as Bianca's。 I did not count upon it。
〃Recently e from Istanbul；〃 I said。 〃Yes； I think that is correct； for the boy was no doubt brought from Russian climes。〃
I need say no more words。 Everyone was scurrying about。 Someone had put a goblet of wine into my hands。 I smelled the lovely scent of it； and set it down on the table。 It seemed a flood of rose petals descended。 Indeed there was everywhere the perfume of flowers。 A chair was brought for me。 I did not sit on it。
Suddenly the man who had greeted me returned to the room。
〃You don't want that one；〃 he said quickly。 He was greatly agitated。 And once again； I saw a clear image of the boy lying on a stone floor。
And I heard the boy's prayers： 〃Deliver me。〃 And I saw the Face of Christ in gleaming egg tempera。 I saw the jewels set into the halo。 I saw the egg and pigment mixing。 〃Deliver me。〃
〃Can't you understand me？〃 I asked。 〃I told you what I wanted。 I want that boy； the one who won't do what you try to force him to do。〃
Then I realized it。
The brothel keeper thought the boy was dying。 He was afraid of the law。 He stood before me in terror。
〃Take me to him；〃 I said。 I pressed him with the Mind Gift。 〃Do it now。 I know of him and won't leave here without him。 Besides； I'll pay you。 I don't care if he's sick and dying。 Do you hear me？ I'll take him away with me。 You'll never have to worry about him again。〃
It was a cruel small chamber in which they'd locked him； and into that chamber the light of a lamp flooded upon the child。
And there I saw beauty； beauty which has always been my downfall； beauty as in Pandora； as in Avicus； as in Zenobia； as in Bianca； beauty in a new and celestial form。
Heaven had cast down upon this stone floor an abandoned angel； of auburn curls and perfectly formed limbs； of fair and mysterious face。
I reached down to take him by the arms and I lifted hi