Zoë leaned back in silence for a while, almost closing her eyes, and she saw that he watched her, and that an unmistakable look of admiration stole into his face. She was wondering whether it would ever turn into something more, and whether she should ever see the gleam of fight in his eyes, for her sake, that had flashed in them a moment ago at the mere thought of battle. What did women do, to make men love them? There is an age when girls believe that love need only be called, like a tame dove, and that he will fly in at the window; and there is an age when he comes to them uncalled-for. If only the ages were the same for all, much trouble might be spared. Zoë was perhaps between the two, but she still believed that there was some fixed rule on which clever women acted to make men fall in love with them, those wicked women who are described to young girls as 'designing,' and are supposed to know precisely the effect they can produce on men at any moment, to the very nicety of an eyelash.
Zeno broke the long silence with an unexpected speech which roughly awakened Zoë from her reflection.
'As for this Emperor John whom his son has locked up,' he said, 'his friends have done their best to interest me in his cause. He has even sent me messages, begging me to help him to escape. Why? What difference can it make to me whether he or his son dies in the Amena tower? They are poor things, both of them, and for all I care John may starve in his chains before I will lift a finger!'
Zoë sighed and bit her lip to check herself, for his voluntary declaration had dashed the palace of her hopes to pieces in an instant.
Then she was ashamed of having even dreamt that he might love her, since he despised the very cause for which she had wished to win his love. But this state of mind did not last long, either. She was too brave to let such a speech pass, as if she agreed with it.
'You are wrong,' she said, quite forgetting that she had set herself to play the part of the slave. 'You ought to help him, if you can—and you can, if you will.'
Zeno looked at her in surprise. There was something like authority in her tone, and the two little maids, whom he had forgotten in their corner behind him, stared in astonishment at her audacity. Not a word of the conversation had escaped them.
'I mean,' continued Zoë, before he could find an answer to her plain statement, 'if you are a true Venetian you should wish to put down the man whom the Genoese and the Turks have set on the throne. Johannes is your friend and your country's friend, though he is a weak man and always will be. Andronicus is an enemy to Venice and a friend to her enemies. He is even now ready to give the island of Tenedos to them—the key to the Dardanelles——'
'What?' asked Zeno in a loud and angry tone. 'Tenedos?'
His manner had changed, and he almost rose from his seat as he bent forwards and seized her wrist in his excitement. She was glad, and smiled at him.