“You do not see, my boy, that Captain Pog is jesting,” said Trimalcyon, “as far as the soul is concerned; but as for your beauty, by Sardanapalus! we will carry her off; the pains of Hadji and your mysterious gallantries shall not be lost, although, in my opinion, you were wrong to make yourself as romantic as an ancient Moor of Grenada, just to please this Omphale. A few more abductions, my dear child, and you will realise that it is far better to break a wild filly with violence than to tame her by dint of sweetness and petting. But your young palate requires milk and honey yet awhile. Later you will come to the spices.” “You flatter me, Trimalcyon, by comparing me to a Moor of Grenada,” said Erebus, with bitterness. “They were noble and chivalrous, and not real robbers like us.” “Robbers? Do you hear him, Captain Pog? He is yet not more than half out of his shell, and he comes talking of robbers! And who in the devil told you we were robbers? That is the way they impose upon youth, the way they deceive it and corrupt it. Why, speak to him, I pray you, Captain Pog! Robbers! Give me something to drink, Swan-skin, to help me swallow that word! Zounds! Robbers!” Erebus seemed very little impressed by the grotesque anger of Trimalcyon. Captain Pog raised his head slowly and said to the young man, with bitter irony: “Well, well, my dear child, you are right to blush for our profession. Upon my return to Tripoli, I will buy you a shop near the port,--it is the best mercantile quarter. There you can sell in peace and quietness white morocco-leather, Smyrna carpets and tapestry, Persian silks and ostrich feathers. That is an easy and honest calling, my dear child. You will be able to amass some money and afterward go to Malta, and establish yourself in the Jewish quarter. There you can lend your money at fifty per cent, to the chevaliers who are in debt. Thus you can avenge yourself on those who cut your father’s and mother’s throats, by pocketing their money. It is more lucrative and less dangerous than taking your revenge in blood.” “Captain!” cried Erebus, his cheeks flaming with indignation. “Captain Pog is right,” said Trimalcyon, “the vampire that sucks the blood of his sleeping prey with impunity is better than the bold falcon that attacks him in the sun.” “Trimalcyon, take care!” cried the young man, in anger. “And who knows,” continued Pog, “if chance may not cause the chevalier who massacred your poor mother and noble father to fall under your usurious hand?” “And see the avenging hand of Providence!” cried Trimalcyon. “The orphan becomes the creditor of the assassin! Blood and murder! Death and agony! This son, the avenger, at last gluts his rage by making the murderer of his family put on the yellow robe of insolvent debtors!”