But Zeno had been informed by Vito of the events that had disturbed his household, and knew that Omobono had done his best, considering what his worst might have been, he being of a timid temperament. 'You did very well,' said the master. 'In ancient days, Omobono, those who died for their faith were indeed venerated as martyrs, but those who suffered and lived were afterwards revered as confessors. That is your position.' This piece of information Zeno had acquired, with more of the same kind, when he had expected to be made a canon of Patras. Omobono's heart glowed at the praise. 'And the confessor, sir, has the advantage of being alive and can still be useful,' he ventured to suggest, though with some diffidence. 'Precisely,' Zeno assented. 'A live dog is better than a dead lion. I mean a watch-dog, of course, Omobono,' he added rather hastily, 'a faithful watch-dog.' Omobono's appearance that morning did not suggest the guardian of the flock, the shepherd's shaggy friend. Not in the least; but he was pleased, and when he was told that he was to pack his belongings and make ready to leave Constantinople for a trip to Venice his delight actually brought a little colour into his grey cheeks. 'And may I enquire, sir,' he began, 'about the----' he paused and looked significantly at the ceiling, to indicate the upper story of the house,--'about the lady?' he added, finishing his question at last. 'She goes with us,' answered Zeno briefly. 'Yes, sir. But may I ask whether it will be part of my duty to be responsible for her?' 'You?' Zeno looked at the little man in undisguised astonishment. 'I mean, sir, on Messer Marco Pesaro's account. I had understood----' 'No,' said Zeno, 'you had not understood.' 'But then, sir----' 'Omobono, I have often warned you against your curiosity.' 'Yes, sir. I pray every day for strength to withstand it. Nevertheless, though I know it is a sin it sometimes leads me to learn things which are of use. I do not think that if you knew what I know, sir, you would contemplate the possibility of disposing of----' 'You talk too much,' said Zeno. 'If you have anything to say, then say it. If you have nothing to say, then say nothing. But do not talk. What have you found out?' Thus deprived of the pleasure of telling a long story, Omobono conscientiously tried to impart his information in the fewest possible words. 'The lady is not called Arethusa, sir. Before she sold herself to Rustan to save her people from starvation she was called Zoë Rhangabé, the daughter of the Protosparthos who was executed by Andronicus----' 'Rhangabé?' repeated Zeno, not believing him; for it was a great name, and is still. 'Yes, sir. But that was not her name, either, for he and his wife had adopted her because they had no children, but afterwards two boys were born to them----' 'Confound their boys!' interrupted Zeno. 'Who is she?'