Byzantine Empire -- History -- John V Palaeologus, 1341-1391 -- Fiction; Zeno, Carlo, 1334-1418 -- Fiction
'I have a message from my master,' he said, 'but before we go on, I
should like to----' he hesitated, and stopped in spite of Rustan.
'What should you like to do?' asked the latter, with sudden
sharpness.
Omobono's hand felt for the last of the small coins in his wallet.
'I wish to give a trifle to the poor people in that house,' he said,
summoning his courage. 'I saw a sick woman--she seemed to be
dying----'
But Rustan grasped his wrist and held it firmly, as if to make him put
the money back, but he smiled gently at the same time.
'No, no, my friend,' he answered. 'I would not have spoken of it, but
you force me to tell you that I have been before you there! I take
some interest in those poor people, and I have just given enough to
keep them for a week, when I shall come again. It is not wise to give
too much. The other beggars would rob them if they guessed that there
was anything to take. Come, come! The sun is setting, and it is not
well to be in this quarter so late.'
Omobono remembered how the sacristan had winked and laughed, when he
had spoken of Rustan's walks in the dismal lane, and the Venetian now
proceeded to draw from what he had seen and heard a multitude of very
logical inferences. That Rustan was an utter scoundrel he had never
doubted since he had known him, and that his domestic life was perhaps
not to his taste, Omobono guessed since he had seen the red-haired
negress who was his wife. Nothing could be more natural than that the
Bokharian, having discovered the beautiful, half-starved creature whom
Omobono had first seen through the window, should plot to get her into
his power for his own ends.
Having reached this conclusion, the mild little clerk suddenly felt
the blood of a hero beating in his veins and longed to take
Karaboghazji by the throat and shake him till he was senseless, never
doubting but that the cause of justice would miraculously give him the
strength needed for the enterprise. He submitted to be hurried away,
indeed, because the moment was evidently not propitious for a feat of
knight-errantry; but as he walked he struck his cornel stick viciously
into the pasty mud and shut his mouth tight under his well-trimmed
grey beard.
'And now,' said Rustan, drawing something like a breath of relief as
they emerged into the open space before the church, 'pray tell me what
urgent business brings you so far to find me, and tell me, too, how
you came to know where I was.'
Here Omobono suddenly realised that in his deductions he had made some
great mistake; for if Rustan had been in the beggars' quarter for such
a purpose as the Venetian suspected, how was it possible that he
should have left any sort of directions with his wife and the
sacristan for finding him, in case he should be wanted on some urgent
business? Omobono, always charitable, at once concluded that he had
been led away into judging the man unjustly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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