The Count's
pensioners might be clamorous, but they knew what they might not do. As
he saw them the wrinkles in his face deepened and his fingers quickened
to achieve their purpose.
"My pensioners are very hungry to-day, and, as you see, they don't mind
saying so. Hark at Bel Cassem!"
The tomtom and the shriek that went with it made it a fierce crescendo.
"That means he is starving--the old hypocrite! Aren't they like the
wolves in your Russia, Monsieur? But we must feed them. We mustn't let
them devour our Beni-Mora. That's it!"
He threw the string on to the sand, plunged his hand into the bag and
brought it out full of copper coins. The mouths opened wider, the hands
waved more frantically, and all the dark eyes gleamed with the light of
greed.
"Will you help me?" he said to Domini.
"Of course. What fun!"
Her eyes were gleaming too, but with the dancing fires of a gay impulse
of generosity which made her wish that the bag contained her money. He
filled her hands with coins.
"Choose whom you will. And now, Monsieur!"
For the moment he was so boyishly concentrated on the immediate present
that he had ceased to observe whether the whim of others jumped with
his own.
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