They left these ideals behind them, however, as the State grew and flourished. It is not in the Latin temperament to tread too narrow a road, so far as the passions are concerned, and, even to-day in the south, if one man has the misfortune to slay another one, he has always two pleas to make, either of which will, as a rule, find a sympathetic hearing in court. “La passione” is the first—and any moderately good reason for rage is generally all that is asked for, by way of explanation. “Scirocco” is the second, and that covers everything from a broken dish to a slit gullet. No one is supposed to be quite in his or her right mind while the close, hot, dry African wind is blowing. A certain Doge of the name of Ziani, who lived in the beginning of the Thirteenth Century, happened to hear that his son, while bathing near the Abbey of San Giorgio, had been attacked by some dogs belonging to the monks, and had been very badly bitten, so badly indeed that, at the time, he was not expected to recover. Flying into a rage of truly ducal proportions, the ruler instantly ordered the monks, the monastery, and the hounds to be burnt—all together. The monks appear to have escaped, but the house and the dogs were destroyed before the Doge had time to rescind the order. In true Latin fashion, of course, he repented of his decree, just too late to prevent its execution; and, in his repentance for the sacrilege, he undertook to rebuild the monastery at his own expense and take upon himself, besides, an annual pilgrimage, as an additional penance. He was a man of the most kindly nature and of a most pious disposition! To illustrate the combination of romance, tragedy, loyalty and treachery, piety and brutality that characterised the time and the place, few better examples can be found than the story of the feud between the Caloprini and Morosini in the Tenth Century. It arose over the hoary question of whether the friendship and support of the Eastern or the Western Empire was most to be desired for the good of the State. This, to be sure, was only a peg on which a private feud was hung, and neither one house nor the other, as far as can be ascertained, had the slightest personal leanings either in the direction of Otto or of the Byzantines. It was enough that a certain amount of popular feeling could be roused and a certain number of the common citizens could be induced to quarrel on the subject, while the great Houses were always to be depended upon when either loot or power was dangled before them.