'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?'
'Her real name is Bianca Giustiniani; she is a Venetian by birth, and her father and mother died of the plague here soon after she was born. You see, sir, under the circumstances, and although the lady called herself a slave, such a commission as Messer Marco Pesaro's——'
'Omobono,' said Zeno, interrupting him again, 'get a priest here at once. I am going to be married.'