Zoë was satisfied, however, for though her maids might understand Italian, she was quite sure that Latin was beyond them. She herself spoke it far more correctly than Omobono, though with a rather lisping Greek accent. She could not have helped saying 'vonus' for 'bonus,' 'eyo' for 'ego,' and 'Thominus' for 'Dominus.'
'Where is Thominus Carolus?' she enquired, so suddenly that the secretary was almost taken off his guard.
'He is—he is gone out,' he answered.
'Yes. He is gone to dine with Messer Sebastian Polo. He goes there two or three times a week.'
Zoë watched the secretary's face with amusement; his surprise was comical.
'Then the man is really an astrologer,' he said, in a wondering tone, 'and star-gazing is not all nonsense!'
'Sebastian Polo's daughter is young and beautiful,' observed Zoë, who apparently did not place implicit faith in astrology.
Omobono's face and gesture expressed a qualified assent, but he said nothing.
'Tell me at once,' said Zoë, 'that she is thirty, that her complexion resembles the dust when it is pitted by raindrops after a shower——'
'That would not be true,' cried the secretary. 'Giustina Polo is not supremely beautiful, but she is young and pretty, and as fresh as roses.'