'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——'