"I should have kept out of it myself." "Especially as you could never have got through the doorway," replied Schinner.

"So in I went," he resumed, "and I found two hands stretched out to meet mine.

I said nothing, for those hands, soft as the peel of an onion, enjoined me to silence.

A whisper breathed into my ear, 'He sleeps!' Then, as we were sure that nobody would see us, we went to walk, Zena and I, upon the ramparts, but accompanied, if you please, by a duenna, as hideous as an old portress, who didn't leave us any more than our shadow; and I couldn't persuade Madame Pirate to send her away.
The next night we did the same thing, and again I wanted to get rid of the old woman, but Zena resisted.

As my sweet love spoke only Greek, and I Venetian, we couldn't understand each other, and so we quarrelled.
I said to myself, in changing linen, 'As sure as fate, the next time there'll be no old woman, and we can make it all up with the language of love.' Instead of which, fate willed that that old woman should save my life! You'll hear how.