The Novels of F. Marion CrawfordIn Twenty-five Volumes--Authorized Edition

MARIETTA

A Maid of Venice

by

F. MARION CRAWFORD

With Frontispiece

P. F. Collier & SonNew York

1901

[Illustration: "I AM NOT ASLEEP. "--_Marietta: A Maid of Venice_. ]

CHAPTER I

Very little was known about George, the Dalmatian, and the servants inthe house of Angelo Beroviero, as well as the workmen of the latter'sglass furnace, called him Zorzi, distrusted him, suggested that he wasprobably a heretic, and did not hide their suspicion that he was in lovewith the master's only daughter, Marietta. All these matters wereagainst him, and people wondered why old Angelo kept the waif in hisservice, since he would have engaged any one out of a hundred youngfellows of Murano, all belonging to the almost noble caste of theglass-workers, all good Christians, all trustworthy, and all ready topromise that the lovely Marietta should never make the slightestimpression upon their respectfully petrified hearts. But Angelo had notbeen accustomed to consider what his neighbours might think of him orhis doings, and most of his neighbours and friends abstained withsingular unanimity from thrusting their opinions upon him. For this, there were three reasons: he was very rich, he was the greatest livingartist in working glass, and he was of a choleric temper. He confessedthe latter fault with great humility to the curate of San Piero eachyear in Lent, but he would never admit it to any one else. Indeed, ifany of his family ever suggested that he was somewhat hasty, he flewinto such an ungovernable rage in proving the contrary that it wasscarcely wise to stay in the house while the fit lasted. Marietta alonewas safe. As for her brothers, though the elder was nearly forty yearsold, it was not long since his father had given him a box on the earswhich made him see simultaneously all the colours of all the glassesever made in Murano before or since. It is true that Giovanni hadtimidly asked to be told one of the secrets for making fine red glasswhich old Angelo had learned long ago from old Paolo Godi of Pergola, the famous chemist; and these secrets were all carefully written out inthe elaborate character of the late fifteenth century, and Angelo keptthe manuscript in an iron box, under his own bed, and wore the key on asmall silver chain at his neck. 

He was a big old man, with fiery brown eyes, large features, and a verypale skin. His thick hair and short beard had once been red, and streaksof the strong colour still ran through the faded locks. His hands werelarge, but very skilful, and the long straight fingers were discolouredby contact with the substances he used in his experiments. 

He was jealous by nature, rather than suspicious. He had been jealous ofhis wife while she had lived, though a more devoted woman never fell tothe lot of a lucky husband. Often, for weeks together, he had lockedthe door upon her and taken the key with him every morning when he leftthe house, though his furnaces were almost exactly opposite, on theother side of the narrow canal, so that by coming to the door he couldhave spoken with her at her window. But instead of doing this he used tolook through a little grated opening which he had caused to be made inthe wall of the glass-house; and when his wife was seated at her window, at her embroidery, he could watch her unseen, for she was beautiful andhe loved her. One day he saw a stranger standing by the water's edge, gazing at her, and he went out and threw the man into the canal. Whenshe died, he said little, but he would not allow his own children tospeak of her before him. After that, he became almost as jealous of hisdaughter, and though he did not lock her up like her mother, he used totake her with him to the glass-house when the weather was not too hot, so that she should not be out of his sight all day. 

Moreover, because he needed a man to help him, and because he was afraidlest one of his own caste should fall in love with Marietta, he tookZorzi, the Dalmatian waif, into his service; and the three were oftentogether all day in the room where Angelo had set up a little furnacefor making experiments. In the year 1470 it was not lawful in Murano toteach any foreign person the art of glass-making; for the glass-blowerswere a sort of nobility, and nearly a hundred years had passed since theCouncil had declared that patricians of Venice might marry thedaughters of glass-workers without affecting their own rank or that oftheir children. But old Beroviero declared that he was not teachingZorzi anything, that the young fellow was his servant and not hisapprentice, and did nothing but keep up the fire in the furnace, andfetch and carry, grind materials, and sweep the floor. It was quite truethat Zorzi did all these things, and he did them with a silentregularity that made him indispensable to his master, who scarcelynoticed the growing skill with which the young man helped him at everyturn, till he could be entrusted to perform the most delicate operationsin glass-working without any especial instructions. Intent upon artisticmatters, the old man was hardly aware, either, that Marietta had learnedmuch of his art; or if he realised the fact he felt a sort of jealoussatisfaction in the thought that she liked to be shut up with him forhours at a time, quite out of sight of the world and altogether out ofharm's way. He fancied that she grew more like him from day to day, andhe flattered himself that he understood her. She and Zorzi were the onlybeings in his world who never irritated him, now that he had them alwaysunder his eye and command. It was natural that he should suppose himselfto be profoundly acquainted with their two natures, though he had nevertaken the smallest pains to test this imaginary knowledge. Possibly, intheir different ways, they knew him better than he knew them. 

The glass-house was guarded from outsiders as carefully as a nunnery, and somewhat resembled a convent in having no windows so situated thatcurious persons might see from without what went on inside. The placewas entered by a low door from the narrow paved path that ran along thecanal. In a little vestibule, ill-lighted by one small grated window, sat the porter, an uncouth old man who rarely answered questions, andnever opened the door until he had assured himself by a deliberateinspection through the grating that the person who knocked had a rightto come in. Marietta remembered him in his den when she had been alittle child, and she vaguely supposed that he had always been there. Hehad been old then, he was not visibly older now, he would probably neverdie of old age, and if any mortal ill should carry him off, he wouldsurely be replaced by some one exactly like him, who would sleep in thesame box bed, sit all day in the same black chair, and eat bread, shellfish and garlic off the same worm-eaten table. There was no otherentrance to the glass-house, and there could be no other porter to guardit. 

Beyond the vestibule a dark corridor led to a small garden that formedthe court of the building, and on one side of which were the largewindows that lighted the main furnace room, while the other sidecontained the laboratory of the master. But the main furnace was enteredfrom the corridor, so that the workmen never passed through the garden. There were a few shrubs in it, two or three rose-bushes and a smallplane-tree. Zorzi, who had been born and brought up in the country, hadmade a couple of flower-beds, edged with refuse fragments of colouredand iridescent slag, and he had planted such common flowers as he couldmake grow in such a place, watering them from a disused rain-watercistern that was supposed to have been poisoned long ago. Here Mariettaoften sat in the shade, when the laboratory was too close and hot, andwhen the time was at hand during which even the men would not be able towork on account of the heat, and the furnace would be put out andrepaired, and every one would be set to making the delicate clay pots inwhich the glass was to be melted. Marietta could sit silent andmotionless in her seat under the plane-tree for a long time when she wasthinking, and she never told any one her thoughts. 

She was not unlike her father in looks, and that was doubtless thereason why he assumed that she must be like him in character. No onewould have said that she was handsome, but sometimes, when she smiled, those who saw that rare expression in her face thought she wasbeautiful. When it was gone, they said she was cold. Fortunately, herhair was not red, as her father's had been or she might sometimes haveseemed positively ugly; it was of that deep ruddy, golden brown that onemay often see in Venice still, and there was an abundance of it, thoughit was drawn straight back from her white forehead and braided into thesmallest possible space, in the fashion of that time. There was often alittle colour in her face, though never much, and it was faint, yetvery fresh, like the tint within certain delicate shells; her lips wereof the same hue, but stronger and brighter, and they were very wellshaped and generally closed, like her father's. But her eyes were notlike his, and the lids and lashes shaded them in such a way that it washard to guess their colour, and they had an inscrutable, reserved lookthat was hard to meet for many seconds. Zorzi believed that they weregrey, but when he saw them in his dreams they were violet; and one dayshe opened them wide for an instant, at something old Beroviero said toher, and then Zorzi fancied that they were like sapphires, but before hecould be sure, the lids and lashes shaded them again, and he only knewthat they were there, and longed to see them, for her father had spokenof her marriage, and she had not answered a single word. 

When they were alone together for a moment, while the old man wassearching for more materials in the next room, she spoke to Zorzi. 

"My father did not mean you to hear that, " she said. 

"Nevertheless, I heard, " answered Zorzi, pushing a small piece of beechwood into the fire through a narrow slit on one side of the brickfurnace. "It was not my fault. "

"Forget that you heard it, " said Marietta quietly, and as her fatherentered the room again she passed him and went out into the garden. 

But Zorzi did not even try to forget the name of the man whom Berovieroappeared to have chosen for his daughter. He tried instead, tounderstand why Marietta wished him not to remember that the name wasJacopo Contarini. He glanced sideways at the girl's figure as shedisappeared through the door, and he thoughtfully pushed another pieceof wood into the fire. Some day, perhaps before long, she would marrythis man who had been mentioned, and then Zorzi would be alone with oldBeroviero in the laboratory. He set his teeth, and poked the fire with, an iron rod. 

It happened now and then that Marietta did not come to the glass-house. Those days were long, and when night came Zorzi felt as if his heartwere turning into a hot stone in his breast, and his sight was dull, andhe ached from his work and felt scorched by the heat of the furnace. Forhe was not very strong of limb, though he was quick with his hands andof a very tenacious nature, able to endure pain as well as wearinesswhen he was determined to finish what he had begun. But while Mariettawas in the laboratory, nothing could tire him nor hurt him, nor make himwish that the hours were less long. He thought therefore of what musthappen to him if Jacopo Contarini took Marietta away from Murano to livein a palace in Venice, and he determined at least to find out what sortof man this might be who was to receive for his own the only woman inthe world for whose sake it would be perfect happiness to be burned withslow fire. He did not mean to do Contarini any harm. Perhaps Mariettaalready loved the man, and was glad she was to marry him. No one couldhave told what she felt, even from that one flashing look she had givenher father. Zorzi did not try to understand her yet; he only loved her, and she was his master's daughter, and if his master found out hissecret it would be a very evil day for him. So he poked the fire withhis iron rod, and set his teeth, and said nothing, while old Berovieromoved about the room. 

"Zorzi, " said the master presently, "I meant you to hear what I said tomy daughter. "

"I heard, sir, " answered the young man, rising respectfully, and waitingfor more. 

"Remember the name you heard, " said Beroviero. 

If the matter had been any other in the world, Zorzi would have smiledat the master's words, because they bade him do just what Marietta hadforbidden. The one said "forget, " the other "remember. " For the firsttime in his life Zorzi found it easier to obey his lady's father thanherself. He bent his head respectfully. 

"I trust you, Zorzi, " continued Beroviero, slowly mixing some materialsin a little wooden trough on the table. "I trust you, because I musttrust some one in order to have a safe means of communicating with CasaContarini. "

Again Zorzi bent his head, but still he said nothing. 

"These five years you have worked with me in private, " the old man wenton, "and I know that you have not told what you have seen me do, thoughthere are many who would pay you good money to know what I have beenabout. "

"That is true, " answered Zorzi. 

"Yes. I therefore judge that you are one of those unusual beings whomGod has sent into the world to be of use to their fellow-creaturesinstead of a hindrance. For you possess the power of holding yourtongue, which I had almost believed to be extinct in the human race. Iam going to send you on an errand to Venice, to Jacopo Cantarini. If Isent any one from my house, all Murano would know it to-morrow morning, but I wish no one here to guess where you have been. "

"No one shall see me, " answered Zorzi. "Tell me only where I am to go. "

"You know Venice well by this time. You must have often passed the houseof the Agnus Dei. "

"By the Baker's Bridge?"

"Yes. Go there alone, to-night and ask for Messer Jacopo; and if theporter inquires your business, say that you have a message and a tokenfrom a certain Angelo. When you are admitted and are alone with MesserJacopo, tell him from me to go and stand by the second pillar on theleft in Saint Mark's, on Sunday next, an hour before noon, until he seesme; and within a week after that, he shall have the answer; and bid himbe silent, if he would succeed. "

"Is that all, sir?"

"That is all. If he gives you any message in answer, deliver it to meto-morrow, when my daughter is not here. "

"And the token?" inquired Zorzi. 

"This glass seal, of which he already has an impression in wax, in casehe should doubt you. "

Zorzi took the little leathern bag which contained the seal. He tied apiece of string to it, and hung it round his neck, so that it was hiddenin his doublet like a charm or a scapulary. Beroviero watched him andnodded in approval. 

"Do not start before it is quite dark, " he said. "Take the little skiff. The water will be high two hours before midnight, so you will have notrouble in getting across. When you come back, come here, and tell theporter that I have ordered you to see that my fire is properly kept up. Then go to sleep in the coolest place you can find. "

After Beroviero had given him these orders, Zorzi had plenty of time forreflection, for his master said nothing more, and became absorbed in hiswork, weighing out portions of different ingredients and slowly mixingeach with the coloured earths and chemicals that were already in thewooden trough. There was nothing to do but to tend the fire, and Zorzipushed in the pieces of Istrian beech wood with his usual industriousregularity. It was the only part of his work which he hated, and when hewas obliged to do nothing else, he usually sought consolation indreaming of a time when he himself should be a master glass-blower andartist whom it would be almost an honour for a young man to serve, evenin such a humble way. He did not know how that was to happen, sincethere were strict laws against teaching the art to foreigners, and alsoagainst allowing any foreign person to establish a furnace at Murano;and the glass works had long been altogether banished from Venice onaccount of the danger of fire, at a time when two-thirds of the houseswere of wood. But meanwhile Zorzi had learned the art, in spite of thelaw, and he hoped in time to overcome the other obstacles that opposedhim. 

There was strength of purpose in every line of his keen young face, strength to endure, to forego, to suffer in silence for an end ardentlydesired. The dark brown hair grew somewhat far back from the paleforehead, the features were youthfully sharp and clearly drawn, and deepneutral shadows gave a look of almost passionate sadness to the blackeyes. There was quick perception, imagination, love of art for its ownsake in the upper part of the face; its strength lay in the well-builtjaw and firm lips, and a little in the graceful and assured poise of thehead. Zorzi was not tall, but he was shapely, and moved without effort. 

His eyes were sadder than usual just now, as he tended the fire in thesilence that was broken only by the low roar of the flames within thebrick furnace, and the irregular sound of the master's wooden instrumentas he crushed and stirred the materials together. Zorzi had longed tosee Contarini as soon as he had heard his name; and having unexpectedlyobtained the certainty of seeing him that very night, he wished thatthe moment could be put off, he felt cold and hot, he wondered how heshould behave, and whether after all he might not be tempted to do hisenemy some bodily harm. 

For in a few minutes the aspect of his world had changed, andContarini's unknown figure filled the future. Until to-day, he had neverseriously thought of Marietta's marriage, nor of what would happen tohim afterwards; but now, he was to be one of the instruments forbringing the marriage about. He knew well enough what the appointment inSaint Mark's meant: Marietta was to have an opportunity of seeingContarini before accepting him. Even that was something of a concessionin those times, but Beroviero fancied that he loved his child too muchto marry her against her will. This was probably a great match for theglass-worker's daughter, however, and she would not refuse it. Contarinihad never seen her either; he might have heard that she was a prettygirl, but there were famous beauties in Venice, and if he wantedMarietta Beroviero it could only be for her dowry. The marriage wastherefore a mere bargain between the two men, in which a name wasbartered for a fortune and a fortune for a name. Zorzi saw how absurd itwas to suppose that Marietta could care for a man whom she had nevereven seen; and worse than that, he guessed in a flash of lovingintuition how wretchedly unhappy she might be with him, and he hated anddespised the errand he was to perform. The future seemed to revealitself to him with the long martyrdom of the woman he loved, and he feltan almost irresistible desire to go to her and implore her to refuse tobe sold. 

Nine-tenths of the marriages he had ever heard of in Murano or Venicehad been made in this way, and in a moment's reflection he realised thefolly of appealing even to the girl herself, who doubtless looked uponthe whole proceeding as perfectly natural. She had of course expectedsuch an event ever since she had been a child, she was prepared toaccept it, and she only hoped that her husband might turn out to beyoung, handsome and noble, since she did not want money. A moment later, Zorzi included all marriageable young women in one sweepingcondemnation: they were all hard-hearted, mercenary, vain, deceitful--anything that suggested itself to his headlong resentment. Art was the only thing worth living and dying for; the world was full ofwomen, and they were all alike, old, young, ugly, handsome--all a packof heartless jades; but art was one, beautiful, true, deathless andunchanging. 

He looked up from the furnace door, and he felt the blood rush to hisface. Marietta was standing near and watching him with her strangelyveiled eyes. 

"Poor Zorzi!" she exclaimed in a soft voice. "How hot you look!"

He did not remember that he had ever cared a straw whether any onenoticed that he was hot or not, until that moment; but for somecomplicated reason connected with his own thoughts the remark stung himlike an insult, and fully confirmed his recent verdict concerning womenin general and their total lack of all human kindness where men wereconcerned. He rose to his feet suddenly and turned away without a word. 

"Come out into the garden, " said Marietta. "Do you need Zorzi just now?"she asked, turning to her father, who only shook his head by way ofanswer, for he was very busy. 

"But I assure you that I am not too hot, " answered Zorzi. "Why should Igo out?"

"Because I want you to fasten up one of the branches of the red rose. Itcatches in my skirt every time I pass. You will need a hammer and alittle nail. "

She had not been thinking of his comfort after all, thought Zorzi as hegot the hammer. She had only wanted something done for herself. He mighthave known it. But for the rose that caught in her skirt, he might haveroasted alive at the furnace before she would have noticed that he washot. He followed her out. She led him to the end of the walk farthestfrom the door of the laboratory; the sun was low and all the littlegarden was in deep shade. A branch of the rose-bush lay across the path, and Zorzi thought it looked very much as if it had been pulled down onpurpose. She pointed to it, and as he carefully lifted it from theground she spoke quickly, in a low tone. 

"What was my father saying to you a while ago?" she asked. 

Zorzi held up the branch in his hand, ready to fasten it against thewall, and looked at her. He saw at a glance that she had brought him outto ask the question. 

"The master was giving me certain orders, " he said. 

"He rarely makes such long speeches when he gives orders, " observed thegirl. 

"His instructions were very particular. "

"Will you not tell me what they were?"

Zorzi turned slowly from her and let the long branch rest on the bushwhile he began to drive a nail into the wall. Marietta watched him. 

"Why do you not answer me?" she asked. 

"Because I cannot, " he said briefly. 

"Because you will not, you mean. "

"As you choose. " Zorzi went on striking the nail. 

"I am sorry, " answered the young girl. "I really wish to know very much. Besides, if you will tell me, I will give you something. "

Zorzi turned upon her suddenly with angry eyes. 

"If money could buy your father's secrets from me, I should be a richman by this time. "

"I think I know as much of my father's secrets as you do, " answeredMarietta more coldly, "and I did not mean to offer you money. "

"What then?" But as he asked the question Zorzi turned away again andbegan to fasten the branch. 

Marietta did not answer at once, but she idly picked a rose from thebush and put it to her lips to breathe in its freshness. 

"Why should you think that I meant to insult you?" she asked gently. 

"I am only a servant, after all, " answered Zorzi, with unnecessarybitterness. "Why should you not insult your servants, if you please? Itwould be quite natural. "

"Would it? Even if you were really a servant?"

"It seems quite natural to you that I should betray your father'sconfidence. I do not see much difference between taking it for grantedthat a man is a traitor and offering him money to act as one. "

"No, " said Marietta, smelling the rose from time to time as she spoke, "there is not much difference. But I did not mean to hurt yourfeelings. "

"You did not realise that I could have any, I fancy, " retorted Zorzi, still angry. 

"Perhaps I did not understand that you would consider what my father wastelling you in the same light as a secret of the art, " said Mariettaslowly, "nor that you would look upon what I meant to offer you as abribe. The matter concerned me, did it not?"

"Your name was not spoken. I have fastened the branch. Is there anythingelse for me to do?"

"Have you no curiosity to know what I would have given you?" askedMarietta. 

"I should be ashamed to want anything at such a price, " returned Zorziproudly. 

"You hold your honour high, even in trifles. "

"It is all I have--my honour and my art. "

"You care for nothing else? Nothing else in the whole world?"

"Nothing, " said Zorzi. 

"You must be very lonely in your thoughts, " she said, and turned away. 

As she went slowly along the path her hand hung by her side, and therose she held fell from her fingers. Following her at a short distance, on his way back to the laboratory, Zorzi stooped and picked up theflower, not thinking that she would turn her head. But at that momentshe had reached the door, and she looked back and saw what he had done. She stood still and held out her hand, expecting him to come up withher. 

"My rose!" she exclaimed, as if surprised. "Give it back to me. "

Zorzi gave it to her, and the colour came to his face a second time. Shefastened it in her bodice, looking down at it as she did so. 

"I am so fond of roses, " she said, smiling a little. "Are you?"

"I planted all those you have here, " he answered. 

"Yes--I know. "

She looked up as she spoke, and met his eyes, and all at once shelaughed, not unkindly, nor as if at him, nor at what he had said, butquietly and happily, as women do when they have got what they want. Zorzi did not understand. 

"You are gay, " he said coldly. 

"Do you wonder?" she asked. "If you knew what I know, you wouldunderstand. "

"But I do not. "

Zorzi went back to his furnace, Marietta exchanged a few words with herfather and left the room again to go home. 

In the garden she paused a moment by the rose-bush, where she had talkedwith Zorzi, but there was not even the shadow of a smile in her facenow. She went down the dark corridor and called the porter, who rousedhimself, opened the door and hailed the house opposite. A woman lookedout in the evening light, nodded and disappeared. A few seconds latershe came out of the house, a quiet little middle-aged creature in brown, with intelligent eyes, and she crossed the shaky wooden bridge over thecanal to come and bring Marietta home. It would have been a scandalousthing if the daughter of Angelo Beroviero had been seen by theneighbours to walk a score of paces in the street without an attendant. She had thrown a hood of dark green cloth over her head, and the foldshung below her shoulders, half hiding her graceful figure. Her step wassmooth and deliberate, while the little brown serving-woman trottedbeside her across the wooden bridge. 

The house of Angelo Beroviero hung over the paved way, above the edge ofthe water, the upper story being supported by six stone columns andmassive wooden beams, forming a sort of portico which was at the sametime a public thoroughfare; but as the house was not far from the endof the canal of San Piero which opens towards Venice, few people passedthat way. 

Marietta paused a moment while the woman held the door open for her. Thesun had just set and the salt freshness that comes with the rising tidewas already in the air. 

"I wish I were in Venice this evening, " she said, almost to herself. 

The serving-woman looked at her suspiciously. 

CHAPTER II

The June night was dark and warm as Zorzi pushed off from the stepsbefore his master's house and guided his skiff through the canal, scarcely moving the single oar, as the rising tide took his boatsilently along. It was not until he had passed the last of theglass-houses on his right, and was already in the lagoon that separatesMurano from Venice, that he began to row, gently at first, for fear ofbeing heard by some one ashore, and then more quickly, swinging his oarin the curved crutch with that skilful, serpentine stroke which isneither rowing nor sculling, but which has all the advantages of both, for it is swift and silent, and needs scarcely to be slackened even in achannel so narrow that the boat itself can barely pass. 

Now that he was away from the houses, the stars came out and he felt thepleasant land breeze in his face, meeting the rising tide. Not a boatwas out upon the shallow lagoon but his own, not a sound came from thetown behind him; but as the flat bow of the skiff gently slapped thewater, it plashed and purled with every stroke of the oar, and a faintmurmur of voices in song was borne to him on the wind from the stillwaking city. 

He stood upright on the high stern of the shadowy craft, himself but amoving shadow in the starlight, thrown forward now, and now once moreerect, in changing motion; and as he moved the same thought came backand back again in a sort of halting and painful rhythm. He was out thatnight on a bad errand, it said, helping to sell the life of the woman heloved, and what he was doing could never be undone. Again and again thewords said themselves, the far-off voices said them, the lapping watertook them up and repeated them, the breeze whispered them quickly as itpassed, the oar pronounced them as it creaked softly in the crutchrowlock, the stars spelled out the sentences in the sky, the lights ofVenice wrote them in the water in broken reflections. He was not aloneany more, for everything in heaven and earth was crying to him to goback. 

That was folly, and he knew it. The master who had trusted him woulddrive him out of his house, and out of Venetian land and water, too, ifhe chose, and he should never see Marietta again; and she would bemarried to Contarini just as if Zorzi had taken the message. Besides, itwas the custom of the world everywhere, so far as he knew, that marriageand money should be spoken of in the same breath, and there was noreason why his master should make an exception and be different fromother men. 

He could put some hindrance in the way, of course, if he chose tointerfere, for he could deliver the message wrong, and Contarini wouldgo to the church in the afternoon instead of in the morning. He smiledgrimly in the dark as he thought of the young nobleman waiting for anhour or two beside the pillar, to be looked at by some one who nevercame, then catching sight at last of some ugly old maid of forty, protected by her servant, ogling him, while she said her prayers andfilling him with horror at the thought that she must be MariettaBeroviero. All that might happen, but it must inevitably be found out, the misunderstanding would be cleared away and the marriage would bearranged after all. 

He had rested on his oar to think, and now he struck it deep into theblack water and the skiff shot ahead. He would have a far better chanceof serving Marietta in the future if he obeyed his master and deliveredhis message exactly; for he should see Contarini himself and judge ofhim, in the first place, and that alone was worth much, and afterwardsthere would be time enough for desperate resolutions. He hastened hisstroke, and when he ran under the shadow of the overhanging houses hismood changed and he grew hopeful, as many young men do, out of sheercuriosity as to what was before him, and out of the wish to meetsomething or somebody that should put his own strength to the test. 

It was not far now. With infinite caution he threaded the dark canals, thanking fortune for the faint starlight that showed him the turnings. Here and there a small oil lamp burned before the image of a saint; froma narrow lane on one side, the light streamed across the water, and withit came sounds of ringing glasses, and the tinkling of a lute, andlaughing voices; then it was dark again as his skiff shot by, and hemade haste, for he wished not to be seen. 

Presently, and somewhat to his surprise, he saw a gondola before him ina narrow place, rowed slowly by a man who seemed to be in black likehimself. He did not try to pass it, but kept a little astern, trying notto attract attention and hoping that it would turn aside into anothercanal. But it went steadily on before him, turning wherever he mustturn, till it stopped where he was to stop, at the water-gate of thehouse of the Agnus Dei. Instantly he brought to in the shadow, with theinstinctive caution of every one who is used to the water. Gondolas werefew in those days and belonged only to the rich, who had just begun touse them as a means of getting about quickly, much more convenient thanhorses or mules; for when riding a man often had to go far out of hisway to reach a bridge, and there were many canals that had no bridlepath at all and where the wooden houses were built straight down intothe water as the stone ones are to-day. Zorzi peered through thedarkness and listened. The occupant of the gondola might be Contarinihimself, coming home. Whoever it was tapped softly upon the door, whichwas instantly opened, but to Zorzi's surprise no light shone from theentrance. All the house above was still and dark, and he could barelymake out by the starlight the piece of white marble bearing thesculptured Agnus Dei whence the house takes its name. He knew that abovethe high balcony there were graceful columns bearing pointed stonearches, between which are the symbols of the four Evangelists; but hecould see nothing of them. Only on the balcony, he fancied he sawsomething less dark than the wall or the sky, and which might be awoman's dress. 

Some one got out of the gondola and went in after speaking a few wordsin a low tone, and the door was then shut without noise. The gondolaglided on, under the Baker's Bridge, but Zorzi could not see whether itwent further or not; he thought he heard the sound of the oar, as if itwere going away. Coming alongside the step, he knocked gently as thelast comer had done, and the door opened again. He had already made hisskiff fast to the step. 

"Your business here?" asked a muffled voice out of the dark. 

Zorzi felt that a number of persons were in the hall immediately behindthe speaker. 

"For the Lord Jacopo Contarini, " he answered. "I have a message and atoken to deliver. "

"From whom?"

"I will tell that to his lordship, " replied Zorzi. 

"I am Contarini, " replied the voice, and the speaker felt for Zorzi'sface in the darkness, and brought it near his ear. 

"From Angelo, " whispered Zorzi, so softly that Contarini only heard thelast word. 

The door was now shut as noiselessly as before, but not by Contarinihimself. He still kept his hold on Zorzi's arm. 

"The token, " he whispered impatiently. 

Zorzi pulled the little leathern bag out of his doublet, slipped thestring over his head and thrust the token into Contarini's hand. Thelatter uttered a low exclamation of surprise. 

"What is this?" he asked. 

"The token, " answered Zorzi. 

He had scarcely spoken when he felt Contarini's arms round him, holdinghim fast. He was wise enough to make no attempt to escape from them. 

"Friends, " said Contarini quickly, "the man who just came in is a spy. Iam holding him. Help me!"

It seemed to Zorzi that a hundred hands seized him in the dark; by thearms, by the legs, by the body, by the head. He knew that resistance wasworse than useless. There were hands at his throat, too. 

"Let us do nothing hastily, " said Contarini's voice, close beside him. "We must find out what he knows first. We can make him speak, Idaresay. "

"We are not hangmen to torture a prisoner till he confesses, " observedsome one in a quiet and rather indolent tone. "Strangle him quickly andthrow him into the canal. It is late already. "

"No, " answered Contarini. "Let us at least see his face. We may knowhim. If you cry out, " he said to Zorzi, "you will be killed instantly. "

"Jacopo is right, " said some one who had not spoken yet. 

Almost at the same instant a door was opened and a broad bar of lightshot across the hall from an inner room. Zorzi was roughly draggedtowards it, and he saw that he was surrounded by about twenty maskedmen. His face was held to the light, and Contarini's hold on his throatrelaxed. 

"Not even a mask!" exclaimed Jacopo. "A fool, or a madman. Speak, man IWho are you? Who sent you here?"

"My name is Zorzi, " answered the glass-blower with difficulty, for hehad been almost choked. "My business is with the Lord Jacopo alone. Itis very private. "

"I have no secrets from my friends, " said Contarini. "Speak as if wewere alone. "

"I have promised my master to deliver the message in secret. I will notspeak here. "

"Strangle him and throw him out, " suggested the man with the indolentvoice. "His master is the devil, I have no doubt. He can take themessage back with him. "

Two or three laughed. 

"These spies seldom hunt alone, " remarked another. "While we are wastingtime a dozen more may be guarding the entrance to the house. "

"I am no spy, " said Zorzi. 

"What are you, then?"

"A glass-worker of Murano. "

Contarini's hands relaxed altogether, now, and he bent his ear toZorzi's lips. 

"Whisper your message, " he said quickly. 

Zorzi obeyed. 

"Angelo Beroviero bids you wait by the second pillar on the left inSaint Mark's church, next Sunday morning, at one hour before noon, tillyou shall see him, and in a week from that time you shall have ananswer; and be silent, if you would succeed. "

"Very well, " answered Contarini. "Friends, " he said, standing erect, "itis a message I have expected. The name of the man who sends it is'Angelo'--you understand. It is not this fellow's fault that he camehere this evening. "

"I suppose there is a woman in the case, " said the indolent man. "Wewill respect your secret. Put the poor devil out of his misery and letus come to our business. "

"Kill an innocent man!" exclaimed Contarini. 

"Yes, since a word from him can send us all to die between the two redcolumns. "

"His master is powerful and rich, " said Jacopo. "If the fellow does notgo back to-night, there will be trouble to-morrow, and since he was sentto my house, the inquiry will begin here. "

"That is true, " said more than one voice, in a tone of hesitation. 

Zorzi was very pale, but he held his head high, facing the light of thetall wax candles on the table around which his captors were standing. Hewas hopelessly at their mercy, for they were twenty to one; the door hadbeen shut and barred and the only window in the room was high above thefloor and covered by a thick curtain. He understood perfectly that, bythe accident of Angelo's name, "Angel" being the password of thecompany, he had been accidentally admitted to the meeting of some secretsociety, and from what had been said, he guessed that its object was aconspiracy against the Republic. It was clear that in self-defence theywould most probably kill him, since they could not reasonably run therisk of trusting their lives in his hands. They looked at each other, asif silently debating what they should do. 

"At first you suggested that we should torture him, " sneered theindolent man, "and now you tremble like a girl at the idea of killinghim! Listen to me, Jacopo; if you think that I will leave this housewhile this fellow is alive, you are most egregiously mistaken. "

He had drawn his dagger while he was speaking, and before he hadfinished it was dangerously near Zorzi's throat. Contarini retired astep as if not daring to defend the prisoner, whose assailant, in spiteof his careless and almost womanish tone, was clearly a man of action. Zorzi looked fearlessly into the eyes that peered at him through theholes in the mask. 

"It is curious, " observed the other. "He does not seem to be afraid. Iam sorry for you, my man, for you appear to be a fine fellow, and I likeyour face, but we cannot possibly let you go out of the house alive. "

"If you choose to trust me, " said Zorzi calmly, "I will not betray you. But of course it must seem safer for you to kill me. I quiteunderstand. "

"If anything, he is cooler than Venier, " observed one of the company. 

"He does not believe that we are in earnest, " said Contarini. 

"I am, " answered Venier. "Now, my man, " he said, addressing Zorzi again, "if there is anything I can do for you or your family after your death, without risking my neck, I will do it with pleasure. "

"I have no family, but I thank you for your offer. In return for yourcourtesy, I warn you that my master's skiff is fast to the step of thehouse. It might be recognised. When you have killed me, you had bettercast it off--it will drift away with the tide. "

Venier, who had let the point of his long dagger rest against Zorzi'scollar, suddenly dropped it. 

"Contarini, " he said, "I take back what I said. It would be anabominable shame to murder a man as brave as he is. "

A murmur of approval came from all the company; but Contarini, whosevacillating nature showed itself at every turn, was now inclined to takethe other side. 

"He may ruin us all, " he said. "One word--"

"It seems to me, " interrupted a big man who had not yet spoken, andwhose beard was as black as his mask, "that we could make use of justsuch a man as this, and of more like him if they are to be found. "

"You are right, " said Venier. "If he will take the oath, and bear thetests, let him be one of us. My friend, " he said to Zorzi, "you see howit is. You have proved yourself a brave man, and if you are willing tojoin our company we shall be glad to receive you among us. Do youagree?"

"I must know what the purpose of your society is, " answered Zorzi ascalmly as before. 

"That is well said, my friend, and I like you the better for it. Nowlisten to me. We are a brotherhood of gentlemen of Venice sworn togetherto restore the original freedom of our city. That is our main purpose. What Tiepolo and Faliero failed to do, we hope to accomplish. Are youwith us in that?"

"Sirs, " answered Zorzi, "I am a Dalmatian by birth, and not a Venetian. The Republic forbids me to learn the art of glass-working. I havelearned it. The Republic forbids me to set up a furnace of my own. Ihope to do so. I owe Venice neither allegiance nor gratitude. If yourrevolution is to give freedom to art as well as to men, I am with you. "

"We shall have freedom for all, " said Venier. "We take, moreover, anoath of fellowship which binds us to help each other in allcircumstances, to the utmost of our ability and fortune, within thebounds of reason, to risk life and limb for each other's safety, andmost especially to respect the wives, the daughters and the betrothedbrides of all who belong to our fellowship. These are promises whichevery true and honest man can make to his friends, and we agree thatwhoso breaks any one of them, shall die by the hands of the company. Andby God in heaven, it were better that you should lose your life now, before taking the oath, than that you should be false to it. "

"I will take that oath, and keep it, " said Zorzi. 

"That is well. We have few signs and no ceremonies, but our promisesare binding, and the forfeit is a painful death--so painful that evenyou might flinch before it. Indeed, we usually make some test of a man'scourage before receiving him among us, though most of us have known eachother since we were children. But you have shown us that you arefearless and honourable, and we ask nothing more of you, except to takethe oath and then to keep it. "

He turned to the company, still speaking in his languid way. 

"If any man here knows good reason why this new companion should not beone of us, let him show it now. "

Then all were silent, and uncovered their heads, but they still kepttheir masks on their faces. Zorzi stood out before them, and Venier wasclose beside him. 

"Make the sign of the Cross, " said Venier in a solemn tone, quitedifferent from his ordinary voice, "and repeat the words after me. "

And Zorzi repeated them steadily and precisely, holding his handstretched out before him. 

"In the name of the Holy Trinity, I promise and swear to give life andfortune in the good cause of restoring the original liberty of thepeople of Venice, obeying to that end the decisions of this honourablesociety, and to bear all sufferings rather than betray it, or any of itsmembers. And I promise to help each one of my companions also in theordinary affairs of life, to the best of my ability and fortune, withinthe bounds of reason, risking life and limb for the safety of each andall. And I promise most especially to honour and respect the wives, thedaughters and the betrothed brides of all who belong to this fellowship, and to defend them from harm and insult, even as my own mother. And if Ibreak any promise of this oath, may my flesh be torn from my limbs andmy limbs from my body, one by one, to be burned with fire and the ashesthereof scattered abroad. Amen. "

When Zorzi had said the last word, Venier grasped his hand, at the sametime taking off the mask he wore, and he looked into the young man'sface. 

"I am Zuan Venier, " he said, his indolent manner returning as he spoke. 

"I am Jacopo Contarini, " said the master of the house, offering his handnext. 

Zorzi looked first at one, and then at the other; the first was a verypale young man, with bright blue eyes and delicate features that wereprematurely weary and even worn; Contarini was called the handsomestVenetian of his day. Yet of the two, most men and women would have beenmore attracted to Venier at first sight. For Contarini's silken beardhardly concealed a weak and feminine mouth, with lips too red and toocurving for a man, and his soft brown eyes had an unmanly tendency tolook away while he was speaking. He was tall, broad shouldered, and wellproportioned, with beautiful hands and shapely feet, yet he did not givean impression of strength, whereas Venier's languid manner, assumed asit doubtless was, could not hide the restless energy that lay in hislean frame. 

One by one the other companions came up to Zorzi, took off their masksand grasped his hand, and he heard their lips pronounce names famous inVenetian history, Loredan, Mocenigo, Foscari and many others. But he sawthat not one of them all was over five-and-twenty years of age, and withthe keenness of the waif who had fought his own way in the world hejudged that these were not men who could overturn the great Republic andbuild up a new government. Whatever they might prove to be in danger andrevolution, however, he had saved his life by casting his lot withtheirs, and he was profoundly grateful to them for having accepted himas one of themselves. But for their generosity, his weighted body wouldhave been already lying at the bottom of the canal, and he was not justnow inclined to criticise the mental gifts of those would-beconspirators who had so unexpectedly forgiven him for discovering theirsecret meeting. 

"Sirs, " he said, when he had grasped the hand of each, "I hope that inreturn for my life, for which I thank you, I may be of some service tothe cause of liberty, and to each of you in singular, though I have butlittle hope of this, seeing that I am but an artist and you are allpatricians. I pray you, inform me by what sign I may know you if wechance to meet outside this house, and how I may make myself known. "

"We have little need of signs, " answered Contarini, "for we meet often, and we know each other well. But our password is 'the Angel'--meaningthe Angel that freed Saint Peter from his bonds, as we hope to freeVenice from hers, and the token we give is the grip of the hand we haveeach given you. "

Being thus instructed, Zorzi held his peace, for he felt that he was inthe presence of men far above him in station, in whose conversation itwould not be easy for him to join, and of whose daily lives he knewnothing, except that most of them lived in palaces and many were thesons of Councillors of the Ten, and of Senators, and Procurators and ofothers high in office, whereat he wondered much. But presently, as theexcitement of what had happened wore off, and they sat about the table, they began to speak of the news of the day, and especially of the unjustand cruel acts of the Ten, each contributing some detail learned in hisown home or among intimate friends. Zorzi sat silent in his place, listening, and he soon understood that as yet they had no definite planfor bringing on a revolution, and that they knew nothing of the populaceupon whose support they reckoned, and of whom Zorzi knew much byexperience. Yet, though they told each other things which seemed foolishto him, he said nothing on that first night, and all the time he watchedContarini very closely, and listened with especial attention to what hesaid, trying to discern his character and judge his understanding. 

The splendid young Venetian was not displeased by Zorzi's attitudetowards him, and presently came and sat beside him. 

"I should have explained to you, " he said, "that as it would beimpossible for us to meet here without the knowledge of my servants, wecome together on pretence of playing games of chance. My father lives inour palace near Saint Mark's, and I live here alone. "

At this Foscari, the tall man with the black beard, looked at Contariniand laughed a little. Contarini glanced at him and smiled with someconstraint. 

"On such evenings, " he continued, "I admit my guests myself, and theywear masks when they come, for though my servants are dismissed to theirquarters, and would certainly not betray me for a dice-player, theymight let drop the names of my friends if they saw them from an upperwindow. "

At this juncture Zorzi heard the rattling of dice, and looking down thetable he saw that two of the company were already throwing against eachother. In a few minutes he found himself sitting alone near Zuan Venier, all the others having either begun to play themselves, or being engagedin wagering on the play of others. 

"And you, sir?" inquired Zorzi of his neighbour. 

"I am tired of games of chance, " answered the pale nobleman wearily. 

"But our host says it is a mere pretence, to hide the purpose of thesemeetings. "

"It is more than that, " said Venier with a contemptuous smile. "Do youplay?"

"I am a poor artist, sir. I cannot. "

"Ah, I had forgotten. That is very interesting. But pray do not call me'sir' nor use any formality, unless we meet in public. At the 'Sign ofthe Angel' we are all brothers. Yes--yes--of course! You are a poorartist. When I expected to be obliged to cut your throat awhile ago, Ireally hoped that I might be able to fulfil some last wish of yours. "

"I appreciated your goodness. " Zorzi laughed a little nervously, nowthat the danger was over. 

"I meant it, my friend, I do assure you. And I mean it now. Oneadvantage of the fellowship is that one may offer to help a brother inany way without insulting him. I am not as rich as I was--I was too fondof those things once"--he pointed to the dice--"but if my purse canserve you, such as it is, I hope you will use it rather than that ofanother. "

It was impossible to be offended, sensitive though Zorzi was. 

"I thank you heartily, " he answered. 

"It would be a curiosity to see money do good for once, " said Venier, languidly looking towards the players. "Contarini is losing again, " heremarked. 

"Does he generally lose much at play?" Zorzi asked, trying to seemindifferent. 

Venier laughed softly. 

"It is proverbial, 'to lose like Jacopo Contarini'!" he answered. 

"Tell me, I beg of you, are all the meetings of the brotherhood likethis one?"

"In what way?" asked Venier indifferently. 

"Do you merely tell each other the news of the day, and then play atdice all night?"

"Some play cards. " Venier laughed scornfully. "This is only the third ofour secret sittings, I believe, but many of us meet elsewhere, duringthe day. "

"Our host said that the society made a pretence of play in order toconspire against the State, " said Zorzi. "It seems to me that this ismaking a pretence of conspiracy, with the chance of death on thescaffold, for the sake of dice-playing. "

"To tell the truth, I think so too, " answered the patrician, leaningback in his chair and looking thoughtfully at the young glass-blower. "It is more interesting to break a law when you may lose your head forit than if you only risk a fine or a year's banishment. I daresay thatseems complicated to you. "

Zorzi laughed. 

"If it is only for the sake of the danger, " he said, "why not go andfight the Turks?"

"I have tried to do my share of that, " replied Venier quietly. "So havesome of the others. "

"Contarini?" asked Zorzi. 

"No. I believe he has never seen any fighting. "

While the two were talking the play had proceeded steadily, and almostin silence. Contarini had lost heavily at first and had then won backhis losses and twice as much more. 

"That does not happen often, " he said, pushing away the dice and leaningback. 

Zorzi watched him. The yellow light of the wax candles fell softly uponhis silky beard and too perfect features, and made splendid shadows inthe scarlet silk of his coat, and flashed in the precious ruby of thering he wore on his white hand. He seemed a true incarnation of hismagnificent city, a century before the rest of all Italy in luxury, inextravagance, in the art of wasteful trifling with great things which isa rich man's way of loving art itself; and there were many others of thecompany who were of the same stamp as he, but whose faces had nointerest for Zorzi compared with Contarini's. Beside him they were butordinary men in the presence of a young god. 

No woman could resist such a man as that, thought the poor waif. Itwould be enough that Marietta's eyes should rest on him one moment, nextSunday, when he should be standing by the great pillar in the church, and her fate would be sealed then and there, irrevocably. It was notbecause she was only a glass-maker's daughter, brought up in Murano. What girl who was human would hesitate to accept such a husband?Contarini might choose his wife as he pleased, among the noblest andmost beautiful in Italy. One or both of two reasons would explain whyhis choice had fallen upon Marietta. It was possible that he had seenher, and Zorzi firmly believed that no man could see her without lovingher; and Angelo Beroviero might have offered such an immense dowry forthe alliance as to tempt Jacopo's father. No one knew how rich oldAngelo was since he had returned from Florence and Naples, and many saidthat he possessed the secret of making gold; but Zorzi knew better thanthat. 

CHAPTER III

It was past midnight when Jacopo Contarini barred the door of his houseand was alone. He took one of the candles from the inner room, put outall the others and was already in the hall, when he remembered that hehad left his winnings on the table. Going back he opened the embroideredwallet he wore at his belt and swept the heap of heavy yellow coins intoit. As the last disappeared into the bag and rang upon the others hedistinctly heard a sound in the room. He started and looked about him. 

It was not exactly the sound of a soft footfall, nor of breathing, butit might have been either. It was short and distinct, such a slightnoise as might be made by drawing the palm of the hand quickly over apiece of stuff, or by a short breath checked almost instantly, or by ashoeless foot slipping a few inches on a thick carpet. Contarini stoodstill and listened, for though he had heard it distinctly he had noimpression of the direction whence it had come. It was not repeated, andhe began to search the room carefully. 

He could find nothing. The single window, high above the floor, wascarefully closed and covered by a heavy curtain which could notpossibly have moved in the stillness. The tapestry was smoothly drawnand fastened upon the four walls. There was no furniture in the room buta big table and the benches and chairs. Above the tapestries the barewalls were painted, up to the carved ceiling. There was nothing toaccount for the noise. Contarini looked nervously over his shoulder ashe left the room, and more than once again as he went up the marblestaircase, candle in hand. There is probably nothing more disturbing topeople of ordinary nerves than a sound heard in a lonely place and forwhich it is impossible to find a reason. 

When he reached the broad landing he smiled at himself and looked back alast time, shading the candle with his hand, so as to throw the lightdown the staircase. Then he entered the apartment and locked himself in. Having passed through the large square vestibule and through a smallroom that led from it, he raised the latch of the next door verycautiously, shaded the candle again and looked in. A cool breeze almostput out the light. 

"I am not asleep, " said a sweet young voice. "I am here by the window. "

He smiled happily at the words. The candle-light fell upon a woman'sface, as he went forward--such a face as men may see in dreams, butrarely in waking life. 

Half sitting, half lying, she rested in Eastern fashion among the silkencushions of a low divan. The open windows of the balcony overlooked thelow houses opposite, and the night breeze played with the littleringlets of her glorious hair. Her soft eyes looked up to her lover'sface with infinite trustfulness, and their violet depths were like clearcrystal and as tender as the twilight of a perfect day. She looked athim, her head thrown back, one ivory arm between it and the cushion, theother hand stretched out to welcome his. Her mouth was like a southernrose when there is dew on the smooth red leaves. In a maze of creamyshadows, the fine web of her garment followed the lines of her restinglimbs in delicate folds, and one small white foot was quite uncovered. Her fan of ostrich feathers lay idle on the Persian carpet. 

"Come, my beloved, " she said. "I have waited long. "

Contarini knelt down, and first he kissed the arching instep, and thenher hand, that felt like a young dove just stirring under his touch, andhis lips caressed the satin of her arm, and at last, with a fiercelittle choking cry, they found her own that waited for them, and therewas no more room for words. In the silence of the June night one kissanswered another, and breath mingled with breath, and sigh with sigh. 

At last the young man's head rested against her shoulder among thecushions. Then the Georgian woman opened her eyes slowly and glanceddown at his face, while her hand stroked and smoothed his hair, and hecould not see the strange smile on her wonderful lips. For she knew thathe could not see it, and she let it come and go as it would, half inpity and half in scorn. 

"I knew you would come, " she said, bending her head a little nearer tohis. 

"When I do not, you will know that I am dead, " he answered almostfaintly, and he sighed. 

"And then I shall go to you, " she said, but as she spoke, she smiledagain to herself. "I have heard that in old times, when the lords of theearth died, their most favourite slaves were killed upon the funeralpile, that their souls might wait upon their master's in the worldbeyond. "

"Yes. It is true. "

"And so I will be your slave there, as I am here, and the night thatlasts for ever shall seem no longer than this summer night, that is tooshort for us. "

"You must not call yourself a slave, Arisa, " answered Jacopo. 

"What am I, then? You bought me with your good gold from Aristarchi theGreek captain, in the slave market. Your steward has the receipt for themoney among his accounts! And there is the Greek's written guarantee, too, I am sure, promising to take me back and return the money if I wasnot all he told you I was. Those are my documents of nobility, mypatents of rank, preserved in your archives with your own!"

She spoke playfully, smiling to herself as she stroked his hair. But hecaught her hand tenderly and brought it to his lips, holding it there. 

"You are more free than I, " he said. "Which of us two is the slave? Youwho hold me, or I who am held? This little hand will never let me go. "

"I think you would come back to me, " she answered. "But if I ran away, would you follow me?"

"You will not run away. " He spoke quietly and confidently, still holdingher hand, as if he were talking to it, while he felt the breath of herwinds upon his forehead. 

"No, " she said, and there was a little silence. 

"I have but one fear, " he began, at last. "If I were ruined, what wouldbecome of you?"

"Have you lost at play again to-night?" she asked, and in her tone therewas a note of anxiety. 

Contarini laughed low, and felt for the wallet at his aide. He held itup to show how heavy it was with the gold, and made her take it. Sheonly kept it a moment, but while it was in her hand her eyelids werehalf closed as if she were guessing at the weight, for he could not seeher face. 

"I won all that, " he said. "To-morrow you shall have the pearls. "

"How good you are to me! But should you not keep the money? You may needit. Why do you talk of ruin?"

She knew that he would give her all he had, she almost guessed that hewould commit a crime rather than lack gold to give her. 

"You do not know my father!" he answered. "When he is displeased hethreatens to let me starve. He will cut me off some day, and I shallhave to turn soldier for a living. Would that not be ruin? You know hislast scheme--he wishes me to marry the daughter of a rich glass-maker. "

"I know. " Arisa laughed contemptuously, "Great joy may your bride haveof you! Is she really rich?"

"Yes. But you know that I will not marry her. "

"Why not?" asked Arisa quite simply. 

Contarini started and looked up at her face in the dim light. She wasbending down to him with a very loving look. 

"Why should you not marry?" she asked again. "Why do you start and lookat me so strangely? Do you think I should care? Or that I am afraid ofanother woman for you?"

"Yes. I should have thought that you would be jealous. " He still gazedat her in astonishment. 

"Jealous!" she cried, and as she laughed she shook her beautiful head, and the gold of her hair glittered in the flickering candle-light. "Jealous? I? Look at me! Is she younger than I? I was eighteen years oldthe other day. If she is younger than I, she is a child--shall I bejealous of children? Is she taller, straighter, handsomer than I am?Show her to me, and I will laugh in her face! Can she sing to you, as Ising, in the summer nights, the songs you like and those I learned bythe Kura in the shadow of Kasbek? Is her hair brighter than mine, is herhand softer, is her step lighter? Jealous? Not I! Will your rich wife beyour slave? Will she wake for you, sing for you, dance for you, rise upand lie down at your bidding, work for you, live for you, die for you, as I will? Will she love you as I can love, caress you to sleep, or wakeyou with kisses at your dear will?"

"No--ah no! There is no woman in the world but you. "

"Then I am not jealous of the rest, least of all, of your young bride. Iwill wager with myself against all her gold for your life, and I shallwin--I have won already! Am I not trying to persuade you that you shouldmarry?"

"I have not even seen her. Her father sent me a message to-night, bidding me go to church on Sunday and stand beside a certain pillar. "

"To see and be seen, " laughed Arisa. "It is not a fair exchange! Shewill look at the handsomest man in the world--hush! That is the truth. And you will see a little, pale, red-haired girl with silly blue eyes, staring at you, her wide mouth open and her clumsy hands hanging down. She will look like the wooden dolls they dress in the latest Venetianfashion to send to Paris every year, that the French courtiers may knowwhat to wear! And her father will hurry her along, for fear that youshould look too long at her and refuse to marry such a thing, even forMarco Polo's millions!"

Contarini laughed carelessly at the description. 

"Give me some wine, " he said. "We will drink her health. "

Arisa rose with the grace of a young goddess, her hair tumbling over herbare shoulders in a splendid golden confusion. Contarini watched herwith possessive eyes, as she went and came back, bringing him the drink. She brought him yellow wine of Chios in a glass calix of Murano, blownair-thin upon a slender stem and just touched here and there with dropsof tender blue. 

"A health to the bride of Jacopo Contarini!" she said, with a ringinglittle laugh. 

Then she set the wine to her lips, so that they were wet with it, andgave him the glass; and as she stooped to give it, her hair fell forwardand almost hid her from him. 

"A health to the shower of gold!" he said, and he drank. 

She sat down beside him, crossing her feet like an Eastern woman, and heset the empty glass carelessly upon the marble floor, as though it hadbeen a thing of no price. 

"That glass was made at her father's furnace, " he said. 

"A pity he could not have made his daughter of glass too, " answeredArisa. 

"Graceful and silent?"

"And easily destroyed! But if I say that, you will think me jealous, andI am not. She will bring you wealth. I wish her a long life, long enoughto understand that she has been sold to you for your good name, like aslave, as I was sold, but that you gave gold for me because you wantedme for myself, whereas you want nothing of her but her gold. "

"But for that--" Contarini seemed to be hesitating. "I never meant tomarry her, " he added. 

"And but for that, you would not! But for that! But for the only thingwhich I have not to give you! I wish the world were mine, with all therich secret things in it, the myriads of millions of diamonds in theearth, the thousand rivers of gold that lie deep in the mountain rocks, and all mankind, and all that mankind has, from end to end of it! Thenyou should have it all for your own, and you would not need to marry thelittle red-haired girl with the fish's mouth!"

Contarini laughed again. 

"Have you seen her, that you can describe her so well? She may haveblack hair. Who knows?"

"Yes. Perhaps it is black, thin and coarse like the hair on a mule'stail; and she has black eyes, like ripe olives set in the white of ahard-boiled egg; and she has a dark skin like Spanish leather whichshines when she is hot and is grey when she is cold; and a black down onher upper lip; and teeth like a young horse. I hate those dark women!"

"But you have never seen her! She may be very pretty. "

"Pretty, then! She shall be as you choose. She shall have a round face, round eyes, a round nose and a round mouth! Her face shall be pink andwhite, her eyes shall be of blue glass and her hair shall be as smoothand yellow as fresh butter. She shall have little fat white hands like ahealthy baby, a double chin and a short waist. Then she will be whatpeople call pretty. "

"Yes, " assented Jacopo. "That is very amusing. But just suppose, for thesake of discussion--it is impossible, of course, but suppose it--thatinstead of there being only one perfectly beautiful woman in the world, whose name is Arisa, there should be two, and that the name of the otherchanced to be Marietta Beroviero. "

Arisa raised her eyes and gazed steadily at Jacopo. 

"You have seen her, " she said in a tone of conviction. "She isbeautiful. "

"No. I give you my word that I have not seen her. I only wanted to knowwhat you would do then. "

"I do not believe that any woman is as beautiful as I am, " answered theGeorgian, with the quiet simplicity of a savage. 

"But if there were one, and you saw her?" insisted the man, to see whatshe would say. 

"We could not both live. One of us would kill the other. "

"I believe you would, " said Jacopo, watching her face. 

She had forgotten his presence while she spoke; a fierce hardness hadcome into her eyes, and her upper lip was a little raised, in a cruelexpression, just showing her teeth. He was surprised. 

"I never saw you like that, " he said. 

"You should not make me think of killing, " she answered, suddenlyleaving her seat and kneeling beside him on the divan. "It is not goodto think too much of killing--it makes one wish to do it. "

"Then try and kill me with kisses, " he said, looking into her eyes, thatwere growing tender again. 

"You would not know you were dying, " she whispered, her lips quite closeto his. 

As she kissed him, she loosened the collar from his white throat, andsmoothed his thick hair back from his forehead upon the pillow, and shesaw how pale he was, under her touch. 

But by and by he fell asleep, and then she very softly drew her arm frombeneath his tired head, and slipped from his side, and stood up, with alittle sigh of relief. The candle had burned to the socket; she blew itout. 

It was still an hour before dawn when she left the room, lifting theheavy curtain that hung before the door of her inner chamber. There, afaint light was burning before a shrine in a silver cup filled with oil. As she fastened the door noiselessly behind her, a man caught her in hisarms, lifting her off her feet like a child. 

Shaggy black hair grew low upon his bossy forehead, his dark eyes werefierce and bloodshot, a rough beard only half concealed the huge jaw andiron lips. He was half clad, in shirt and hose, and the muscles of hisneck and arms stood out like brown ropes as he pressed the beautifulcreature to his broad chest. 

"I thought he would never sleep to-night, " she whispered. 

Her eyelids drooped, and her cheeks grew deadly white, and the strongman felt the furious beating of her heart against his own breast. He wasAristarchi, the Greek captain who had sold her for a slave, and sheloved him. 

In the wild days of sea-fighting among the Greek islands he had taken asmall trading galley that had been driven out of her course. He left nota man of her crew alive to tell whether she had been Turkish orChristian, and he took all that was worth taking of her poor cargo. Theonly prize of any price was the captive Georgian girl who was beingbrought westward to be sold, like thousands of others in those days, with little concealment and no mystery, in one of the slave markets ofnorthern Italy. Aristarchi claimed her for himself, as his share of thebooty, but his men knew her value. Standing shoulder to shoulder betweenhim and her, they drew their knives and threatened to cut her to pieces, if he would not promise to sell her as she was, when they should come toland, and share the price with them. They judged that she must be wortha thousand or fifteen hundred pieces of gold, for she was more beautifulthan any woman they had ever seen, and they had already heard hersinging most sweetly to herself, as if she were quite sure that she wasin no danger, because she knew her own value. So Aristarchi was forcedto consent, cursing them; and night and day they guarded her dooragainst him, till they had brought her safe to Venice, and delivered herto the slave-dealers. 

Then Aristarchi sold all that he had, except his ship, and it allbrought far too little to buy such a slave. She would have gone withhim, for she had seen that he was stronger than other men and fearedneither God nor man, but she was well guarded, and he was only allowedto talk with her through a grated window, like those at convent gates. 

She was not long in the dealers' house, for word was brought to all theyoung patricians of Venice, and many of them bid against each other forher, in the dealers' inner room, till Contarini outbid them all, sayingthat he could not live without her, though the price should ruin him, and because he had not enough gold he gave the dealers, besides money, amarvellous sword with a jewelled hilt, which one of his forefathers hadtaken at the siege of Constantinople, and which some said had belongedto the Emperor Justinian himself, nine hundred years ago. 

Then Aristarchi and his men paid the dealers their commission and tookthe money and the sword. But before he went from the house, the Greekcaptain begged leave to see Arisa once more at the grating, and he toldher that come what might he should steal her away. She bade him not tobe in too great haste, and she promised that if he would wait, he shouldhave with her more gold than her new master had given for her, for shewould take all he had from him, little by little; and when they hadenough they would leave Venice secretly, and live in a grand manner inFlorence, or in Rome, or in Sicily. For she never doubted but that hewould find some way of coming to her, though she were guarded moreclosely than in the slave-dealers' house, where the windows were gratedand armed men slept before the door, and one of the dealers watched allnight. 

More than a year had passed since then; the strong Greek knew everycorner of the house of the Agnus Dei, and every foothold under Arisa'swindows, from the water to the stone sill, by which he could helphimself a little as he went up hand over hand by the knotted silk ropethat would have cut to the bone any hands but his. She kept it hidden ina cushioned footstool in her inner room. Many a risk he had run, andmore than once in winter he had slipped down the rope with haste to lethimself gently into the icy water, and he had swum far down the darkcanal to a landing-place. For he was a man of iron. 

So it came about that Jacopo Contarini lived in a fool's paradise, inwhich he was not only the chief fool himself, but was moreover in bodilydanger more often than he knew. For though Aristarchi had hithertomanaged to escape being seen, he would have killed Jacopo with his nakedhands if the latter had ever caught him, as easily as a boy wrings abird's neck, and with as little scruple of conscience. 

The Georgian loved him for his hirsute strength, for his fearlessness, even his violence and dangerous temper. He dominated her as naturally asshe controlled her master, whose vacillating nature and love of idleease filled her with contempt. It was for the sake of gold that sheacted her part daily and nightly, with a wisdom and unwavering skillthat were almost superhuman; and the Greek ruffian agreed to thebargain, and had been in no haste to carry her off, as he might havedone at any time. She hoarded the money she got from Jacopo, to give itby stealth to Aristarchi, who hid their growing wealth in a safe placewhere it was always ready; but she kept her jewels always together, incase of an unexpected flight, since she dared not sell them nor givethem to the Greek, lest they should be missed. 

Of late it had seemed to them both that the time for their final actionwas at hand, for it had been clear to Arisa that Jacopo was near the endof his resources, and that his father was resolved to force him tochange his life. There were days when he was reduced to borrowing moneyfor his actual needs, and though an occasional stroke of good fortune atplay temporarily relieved him, Arisa was sure that he was constantlysinking deeper into debt. But within the week, the aspect of his affairshad changed. The marriage with Marietta had been proposed, and Arisa hadmade a discovery. She told Aristarchi everything, as naturally as shewould have concealed everything from Contarini. 

"We shall be rich, " she said, twining her white arms round his swarthyneck and looking up into his murderous eyes with something like genuineadoration. "We shall get the wife's dowry for ourselves, by degrees, every farthing of it, and it shall be the dower of Aristarchi's brideinstead. I shall not be portionless. You shall not be ashamed of me whenyou meet your old friends. "

"Ashamed!" His arm pressed her to him till she longed to cry out forpain, yet she would not have had him less rough. 

"You are so strong!" she gasped in a broken whisper. "Yes--a littlelooser--so! I can speak now. You must go to Murano to-morrow and findout all about this Angelo Beroviero and his daughter. Try to see her, and tell me whether she is pretty, but most of all learn whether she isreally rich. "

"That is easy enough. I will go to the furnace and offer to buy a cargoof glass for Sicily. "

"But you will not take it?" asked Arisa in sudden anxiety lest he shouldleave her to make the voyage. 

"No, no! I will make inquiries. I will ask for a sort of glass that doesnot exist. "

"Yes, " she said, reassured. "Do that. I must know if the girl is richbefore I marry him to her. "

"But can you make him marry her at all?" asked Aristarchi. 

"I can make him do anything I please. We drank to the health of thebride to-night, in a goblet made by her father! The wine was strong, andI put a little syrup of poppies into it. He will not wake for hours. What is the matter?"

She felt the rough man shaking beside her, as if he were in an ague. 

"I was laughing, " he said, when he could speak. "It is a good jest. Butis there no danger in all this? Is it quite impossible that he shouldtake a liking for his wife?"

"And leave me?" Arisa's whisper was hot with indignation at the merethought. "Then I suppose you would leave me for the first pretty girlwith a fortune who wanted to marry you!"

"This Contarini is such a fool!" answered Aristarchi contemptuously, byway of explanation and apology. 

Arisa was instantly pacified. 

"If he should be foolish enough for that, I have means that will keephim, " she answered. 

"I do not see how you can force him to do anything except by his passionfor you. "

"I can. I was not going to tell you yet--you always make me tell youeverything, like a child. "

"What is it?" asked the Greek. "Have you found out anything new abouthim? Of course you must tell me. "

"We hold his life in our hands, " she said quietly, and Aristarchi knewthat she was not exaggerating the truth. 

She began to tell him how this was the third time that a number ofmasked men had come to the house an hour after dark, and had stayed tillmidnight or later, and how Contarini had told her that they came to playat dice where they were safe from interruption, and that on these nightsthe servants were sent to their quarters at sunset on pain of dismissalif Jacopo found them about the house, but that they also receivedgenerous presents of money to keep them silent. 

"The man is a fool!" said Aristarchi again. "He puts himself in theirpower. "

"He is much more completely in ours, " answered Arisa. "The servantsbelieve that his friends come to play dice. And so they do. But theycome for something more serious. "

Aristarchi moved his massive head suddenly to an attitude of profoundattention. 

"They are plotting against the Republic, " whispered Arisa. "I can hearall they say. "

"Are you sure?"

"I tell you I can hear every word. I can almost see them. Look here. Come with me. "

She rose and he followed her to the corner of the room where the smallsilver lamp burned steadily before an image of Saint Mark, and above aheavy kneeling-stool. 

"The foot moves, " she said, and she was already on her knees on thefloor, pushing the step. 

It slid back with the soft sound Contarini had heard before he cameupstairs. The upper part of the woodwork was built into the wall. 

"They meet in the place below this, " Arisa said. "When they are there, Ican see a glimmer of light. I cannot get my head in. It is too narrow, but I hear as if I were with them. "

"How did you find this out?" asked Aristarchi on the floor beside her, and reaching down into the dark space to explore it with his hand. "Itis deep, " he continued, without waiting for an answer. "There may besome passage by which one can get down. "

"Only a child could pass. You see how narrow it is. But one can hearevery sound. They said enough to-night to send them all to thescaffold. "

"Better they than we if we ever have to make the choice, " said the Greekominously. 

He had withdrawn his arm and was planted upon his hands and knees, hisshaggy head hanging over the dark aperture. He was like some rough wildbeast that has tracked its quarry to earth and crouches before the hole, waiting for a victim. 

"How did you find this out?" he asked again, looking up. 

She was standing by the corner of the stool, now, all her marvellousbeauty showing in the light of the little lamp and against the wallbehind her. 

"I was saying my prayers here, the first night they met, " she said, asif it were the most natural thing in the world. "I heard voices, as itseemed, under my feet. I tried to push away the stool, and the footmoved. That is all. "

Aristarchi's jaw dropped a little as he looked up at her. 

"Do you say prayers every night?" he asked in wonder. 

"Of course I do. Do you never say a prayer?"

"No. " He was still staring at her. 

"That is very wrong, " she said, in the earnest tone a mother might useto her little child. "Some harm will befall us, if you do not say yourprayers. "

A slow smile crossed the ruffian's face as he realised that this evilwoman who was ready to commit the most atrocious deeds out of love forhim, was still half a child. 

CHAPTER IV

Marietta awoke before sunrise, with a smile on her lips, and as sheopened her eyes, the world seemed suddenly gladder than ever before, andher heart beat in time with it. She threw back the shutters wide to letin the June morning as if it were a beautiful living thing; and itbreathed upon her face and caressed her, and took her in its spiritarms, and filled her with itself. 

Not a sound broke the stillness, as she looked out, and the glassywaters of the canal reflected delicate tints from the sky, palest greenand faintest violet and amber with all the lovely changing colours ofthe dawn. By the footway a black barge was moored, piled high with rounduncovered baskets of beads, white, blue, deep red and black, waiting tobe taken over to Venice where they would be threaded for the East, andthe colours stood out in strong contrast with the grey stones, the faintreflections in the water and the tender sky above. There were flowers onthe window-sill, a young rose with opening buds, growing in a redearthen jar, and a pot of lavender just bursting into flower, with asweet geranium beside it and some rosemary. Zorzi had planted them allfor her, and her serving-woman had helped her to fasten the pots in thewindow, because it would have been out of the question that any manexcept her father should enter her room, even when she was not there. But they were Zorzi's flowers, and she bent down and smelt theirfragrance. On a table behind her a single rose hung over the edge of atall glass with a slender stem, almost the counterpart of the one inwhich Contarini had drunk her health at midnight. Her father had givenit to her as it came from the annealing oven, still warm after longhours of cooling with many others like it. She loved it for its graceand lightness, and as for the rose, it was the one she had made Zorzigive back to her yesterday. She meant to keep it in water till it faded, and then she would press it between the first page and the binding ofher parchment missal. It would keep some of its faint scent, perhaps, and if any one saw it, no one would ever guess whence it came. 

It meant a great thing to her, for it had told her Zorzi's secret, whichhe had kept so well. He should know hers some day, but not yet, and herdrooping lids could hide it if it ever came into her eyes. It was toosoon to let him know that she loved him. That was one reason for hidingit, but she had another. If her father guessed that she loved the waif, it would fare ill with him. She fancied she could see the old man'sfiery brown eyes and hear his angry voice. Poor Zorzi would be drivenfrom Murano and Venice, never to set foot again within the boundaries ofthe Republic; for Beroviero was a man of weight and influence, of whomVenice was proud. 

Youth would be very sad if it counted time and labour as it is reckonedand valued by mature age. Some day Zorzi would be no longer a mere paidhelper, calling himself a servant when his humour was bitter, tending afire on his knees and grinding coloured earths and salts in a mortar. Hehad the understanding of the glorious art, and the true love of it, withthe magic touch; he would make a name for himself in spite of the harshVenetian law, and some day his master would be proud to call him son. There would not be many months to wait. Months or years, what mattered, since she loved him and was at last quite sure that he loved her?To-day, that was enough. She would go over to the glass-house and sit inthe garden, by the rose he had planted, and now and then she would gointo the close furnace room where he worked with her father, or Zorziwould come out for something; she should be near him, she should see hisface and hear his quiet voice, and she would say to herself: He lovesme, he loves me--as often as she chose, knowing that it was true. 

Since she knew it, she was sure that she should see it in his face, thathad hidden it from her so long. There would be glances when he thoughtshe was not watching him, his colour would come and go, as yesterday, and he would do her some little service, now and then, in which thesweet truth, against his will, should tell itself to her again andagain. It would be a delicious and ever-remembered day, each minute apearl, each hour a chaplet of jewels, from golden sunrise to goldensunset, all perfect through and through. 

There were so many little things she could watch in him, now that sheknew the truth, things that had long meant nothing and would meanvolumes to-day. She would watch him, and then call him suddenly and seehim try to hide the little gladness he would feel as he turned to her;and when they were alone a moment, she would ask him whether he hadremembered to forget Jacopo Contarini's name; and some day, but not fora long time yet, she would drop a rose again, and she would turn as hepicked it up, but she would not make him give it back to her, and inthat way he should know that she loved him. She must not think of that, for it was too soon, yet she could almost see his face as it would bewhen he knew. 

Yesterday her father had talked again of her marriage. A whole month hadpassed since he had even alluded to it, but this time he had spoken ofit as a certainty; and she had opened her eyes wide in surprise. She didnot believe that it was to be. How could she marry a man she did notlove? How could she love any man but Zorzi? They might show her twentyVenetian patricians, that she might choose among them. Meanwhile shewould show her indifference. Nothing was easier than to put on aninscrutable expression which betrayed nothing, but which, as she knew, sometimes irritated her father beyond endurance. 

He had always promised that she should not be married against her will, as many girls were. Then why should she marry Contarini, any more thanany other man except the one she had chosen? She need only say thatContarini did not please her, and her father would certainly not try touse force. There was therefore nothing to fear, and since her firstsurprise was over, she felt sure of appearing quite indifferent. Shewould put the thought out of her mind and begin the day with the perfectcertainty that the marriage was altogether impossible. 

She looked out over her flowers. The door of the glass-house was opennow, and the burly porter was sweeping; she could hear the cypress broomon the flagstones inside, and presently it appeared in sight while theporter was still invisible, and it whisked out a mixture of black dustand bread crumbs and bits of green salad leaves, and the old man cameout and swept everything across the footway into the canal. As he turnedto go back, the workmen came trooping across the bridge to thefurnaces--pale men with intent faces, very different from ordinaryworking people. For each called himself an artist, and was one; and eachknew that so far as the law was concerned the proudest noble in Venicecould marry his daughter without the least derogation from patriciandignity. The workmen differed from her own father not in station, butonly in the degree of their prosperity. 

If Zorzi could ever have been one of them the rest would have beensimple enough. But he could not, any more than a black man could turnwhite at will. There was no evasion of law by which a man not born aVenetian could ever be a glass-blower, or could ever acquire theprivileges possessed from birth by one of those shabby, pale young menwho were crowding past the porter to go to their hard day's work. Yetdexterous as they were, there was not one that had his skill, there wasnot one that could compare with him as an artist, as a workman, as aman. No Indian caste, no ancient nobility, no mystic priesthood ever setup a barrier so impassable between itself and the outer world as thatwhich defended the glass-blowers of Murano for centuries against all whowished to be initiated. Even the boys who fed the fires all night wereof the calling, and by and by would become workmen, and perhaps masters, legally almost the equals of the splendid nobles who sat in the GrandCouncil over there in Venice. 

Zorzi's very existence was an anomaly. He had no social right to be whathe was, and he knew it when he called himself a servant, for the cruellaw would not allow him to be anything else so long as he helped AngeloBeroviero. 

Suddenly, while Marietta watched the men, Zorzi was there among them, coming out as they went in. He must have risen early, she thought, forshe did not know that he had slept in the laboratory. He looked pale andthin as he flattened himself against the door-post to let a workmanpass, and then slipped out himself. No one greeted him, even by a nod. Marietta knew that they hated him because he was in her father'sconfidence; and somehow, instead of pitying him, she was glad. 

It seemed natural that he should not be one of them, that he should passthem with quiet indifference and that they should feel for him theinstinctive dislike which most inferiors feel for those above them. Doubtless, they looked down upon him, or told themselves that they did;but in their hearts they knew that a man with such a face was born to betheir teacher and their master, and the girl was proud of him. Hetreated them with more civility than they bestowed on him, but it wasthe courtesy of a superior who would not assert himself, who would scornto thrust himself forward or in any way to claim what was his by right, if it were not freely offered. Marietta drew back a little, so that shecould just see him between the flowers, without being seen. 

He stood still, looking down at the canal till the last of the men hadpassed in. Then, before he went on, he raised his eyes slowly toMarietta's window, not guessing that her own were answering his frombehind the rosemary and the geranium. His pale face was very sad andthoughtful as he looked up. She had never seen him look so tired. Theporter had shut the door, which he never allowed to remain open onemoment longer than was absolutely necessary, and Zorzi stood quite aloneon the footway. As he looked, his face softened and grew so tender thatthe girl who watched him unseen stretched out her arms towards him withunconscious yearning, and her heart beat very fast, so that she felt thepulses in her throat almost choking her; yet her face was pale and hersoft lips were dry and cold. For it was not all happiness that shefelt; there was a sweet mysterious pain with it, which was nowhere, andyet all through her, that was weakness and yet might turn to strength, ahunger of longing for something dear and unknown and divine, withoutwhich all else was an empty shadow. Then her eyes opened to him, as hehad never seen them, blue as the depth of sapphires and dewy with lovemists of youth's early spring; it was impossible that he should standthere, just beyond the narrow water, and not feel that she saw him andloved him, and that her heart was crying out the true words he neverhoped to hear. 

But he did not know. And all at once his eyes fell, and she could almostsee that he sighed as he turned wearily away and walked with bent headtowards the wooden bridge. She would have given anything to look out andsee him cross and come nearer, but she remembered that she was not yetdressed, and she blushed as she drew further back into the room, gathering the thin white linen up to her throat, and frightened at themere thought that he should catch sight of her. She would not call herserving-woman yet, she would be alone a little while longer. She threwback her russet hair, and bent down to smell the rose in the tall glass. The sun was risen now and the first slanting beams shot sideways throughher window from the right. The day that was to be so sweet had begunmost sweetly. She had seen him already, far earlier than usual; shewould see him many times before the little brown maid crossed the canalto bring her home in the evening. 

The thought put an end to her meditations, and she was suddenly in hasteto be dressed, to be out of the house, to be sitting in the littlegarden of the glass-house where Zorzi must soon pass again. She calledand clapped her hands, and her serving-woman entered from the outer roomin which she slept. She brought a great painted earthenware dish, onwhich fruit was arranged, half of a small yellow melon fresh from thecool storeroom, a little heap of dark red cherries and a handful of ripeplums. There was white wheaten bread, too, and honey from Aquileia, in alittle glass jar, and there was a goblet of cold water. The maid set thebig dish on the table, beside the glass that held Zorzi's rose, andbegan to make ready her mistress's clothes. 

Marietta tasted the melon, and it was cool and aromatic, and she stoodeating a slice of it, just where she could look through the flowers onthe window-sill at the door of the glass-house, so that if Zorzi passedagain she should see him. He did not come, and she was a littledisappointed; but the melon was very good, and afterwards she ate a fewcherries and spread a spoonful of honey on a piece of bread, and nibbledat it; and she drank some of the water, looking out of the window overthe glass. 

"Was it always so beautiful?" she asked, speaking to herself, in a sortof wonder at what she felt, as she set the glass upon the table. 

Nella, the maid, turned quickly to her with a look of inquiry. 

"What?" she asked. "What is beautiful? The weather? It is summer! Ofcourse it is fine. Did you expect the north wind to-day, or rain fromthe southwest?"

Marietta laughed, sweet and low. The little maid always amused her. There was something cheerful in the queer little scolding sentences, spoken with a rising inflection on almost every word, musical and yetalways seeming to protest gently against anything Marietta said. 

"I know of something much more beautiful than the weather, " Nella added, seeing that she got no answer except a laugh. "Do you wish to know whatis more beautiful than a summer's day?"

"Oh, I know the answer to that!" cried Marietta. "You used to catch mein that way when I was a small girl. "

"Well, my little lady, what is the answer? I have said nothing. "

"What is more beautiful than a summer's day? Why, two summer's days, ofcourse! I was always dreadfully disappointed when you gave me thatanswer, for I expected something wonderful. "

Nella shook her head as she unfolded the fine linen things, and uttereda sort of little clucking sound, meant to show her disapproval of suchchildish jests. 

"Tut, tut, tut! We are grown up now! Are we children? No, we are a younglady, beautiful and serious! Tut, tut, tut! That you should rememberthe nonsense I used to talk to make you stop crying for your mother, blessed soul! And I myself was so full of tears that a drop of waterwould have drowned me! But all passes, praise be to God!"

"I hope not, " said Marietta, but so low that the woman did not hear. 

"I will ask you a riddle, " continued Nella presently. 

"Oh no!" laughed Marietta. "I could no more guess a riddle to-day than Icould give a dissertation on theology. Riddles are for rainy days inwinter, when we sit by the fire in the evening wishing it were morningagain. I know the great riddle at last--I have found it out. It is themost beautiful thing in the world. "

"Then it is true, " observed Nella, looking at her with satisfaction. 

"What?" asked the young girl carelessly. 

"That you are to be married. "

"I hope so, " answered Marietta. "Some day, but there is timeyet--perhaps a very long time. "

"As long as it will take to make a wedding gown embroidered with goldand pearls. Not a day longer than that. " Nella looked very wise andwatched her mistress's face. 

"What do you mean?"

"The master has ordered just such a gown. That is what I mean. Do youthink I would talk of such a beautiful thing, just to make you unhappy, if you were not to have one? But you will not forget poor Nella, mylittle lady? You will take me with you to Venice?"

"Then you think I am to marry some one from the city? What is his name?"

"The master knows. That is enough. But it must be the Doge's son, or atleast the son of the Admiral of Venice. It will take two months toembroider the gown. That means that you are to be married in August, ofcourse. "

"Do you think so?" asked Marietta indifferently. 

"I know it. " And Nella gave a discontented little snort, for she did notlike to have her conclusions questioned. "Am I half-witted? Am I in mydotage? Am I an imbecile? The gown is ordered, and that is the truth. Doyou think the master has ordered a wedding gown embroidered with goldand pearls for himself?"

Marietta tossed her hair back and shook it down her shoulders, laughinggaily at the idea. 

"Ah!" cried Nella indignantly. "Now you are mocking me! You are making alaughing-stock of your poor Nella! It is too bad! But you will be sorrythat you laughed at me, when I am not here to bring you melons andcherries and tell you the news in the morning! You will say: 'PoorNella! She was not such an ignorant person after all!' That is what youwill say. I tell you that if your father orders a wedding gown, you arethe only person in the house who can wear it, and he would not order itjust to see how beautiful you would be as a bride! He is a serious man, the master, he is grave, he is wise! He does nothing without muchreflection, and what he does is well done. He says, 'My daughter is tobe married, therefore I will order a splendid dress for her. ' That iswhat he says, and he orders it. "

"That has an air of reason, " said Marietta gravely. "I did not mean tolaugh at you. "

"Oh, very well! If you thought your father unreasonable, what should Isay? He does not say one thing and do another, your father. And I willtell you something. They will make the gown even handsomer than heordered it, because he is very rich, and he will grumble and scold, butin the end he will pay, for the honour of the house. Then you will wearthe gown, and all Venice will see you in it on your wedding day. "

"That will be a great thing for the Venetians, " observed the young girl, trying not to smile. 

"They will see that there are rich men in Murano, too. It will be alesson for their intolerable vanity. "

"Are the Venetians so very vain?"

"Well! Was not my husband a Venetian, blessed soul? It seems to me thatI should know. Have I forgotten how he would fasten a cock's feather inhis cap, almost like a gentleman, and hang his cloak over one shoulder, and pull up his hose till they almost cracked, so as to show off hisleg? Ah, he had handsome legs, my poor Vito, and he never would useanything but pure beeswax to stiffen his mustaches. No, he never woulduse tallow. He was almost like a gentleman!"

Nella's little brown eyes were moist as she recalled her husband's smallvanities; his dislike of tallow as a cosmetic seemed to affect herparticularly. 

"That is why I say that it will be a lesson to the pride of thoseVenetians to see your marriage, " she resumed, after drying her eyes withthe back of her hand. "And the people of Murano will be there, and allthe glass-blowers in their guild, since the master is the head of it. Isuppose Zorzi will manage to be there, too. "

Nella spoke the last words in a tone of disapproval. 

"Why should Zorzi not be at my wedding?" asked Marietta carelessly. 

"Why should he?" asked the serving-woman with unusual bluntness. "But Idaresay the master will find something for him to do. He is cleverenough at doing anything. "

"Yes--he is clever, " assented the young girl. "Why do you not like him?Give me some more water--you are always afraid that I shall use toomuch!"

"I have a conscience, " grumbled Nella. "The water is brought from far, it is paid for, it costs money, we must not use too much of it. Everyday the boats come with it, and the row of earthen jars in the court isfilled, and your father pays--he always pays, and pays, and pays, till Iwonder where the money all comes from. They say he makes gold, overthere in the furnace. "

"He makes glass, " answered Marietta. "And if he orders gowns for mewith pearls and gold, he will not grudge me a jug of water. Why do youdislike Zorzi?"

"He is as proud as a marble lion, and as obstinate as a Lombardy mule, "explained Nella, with fine imagery. "If that is not enough to make onedislike a young man, you shall tell me so! But one of those days he willfall. There is trouble for the proud. "

"How does his great pride show itself?" asked Marietta. "I have notnoticed it. "

"That would indeed be the end of everything, if he showed his pride toyou!" Nella was much displeased by the mere suggestion. "But with us itis different. He never speaks to the other workmen. "

"They never speak to him. "

"And quite right, too, since he holds his head so high, with no reasonat all! But it will not last for ever! I wonder what the master wouldthink, for instance, if he knew that Zorzi takes the skiff in theevening, and rows himself over to Venice, all alone, and comes back longafter midnight, and sleeps in the glass-house across the way because hecannot get into the house. Zorzi! Zorzi! The master cannot move withoutZorzi! And where is Zorzi at night? At home and in bed, like a decentyoung man? No. Zorzi is away in Venice, heaven knows where, doing heavenknows what! Do you wonder that he is so pale and tired in the morning?It seems to me quite natural. Eh? What do you think, my pretty lady?"

Marietta was silent for a moment. It was only a servant's spitefulgossip, but it hurt her. 

"Are you sure that he goes to Venice alone at night?" she asked, after alittle pause. 

"Am I sure that I live, that I belong to you, and that my name is Nella?Is not the boat moored under my window? Did I not hear the chainrattling softly last night? I got up and looked out, and I saw Zorzi, asI see you, taking the padlock off. I am not blind--praise be to heaven, I see. He turned the boat to the left, so he must have been going toVenice, and it was at least an hour after the midnight bells when Iheard the chain again, and I looked out, and there he was. But he didnot come into the house. And this morning I saw him coming out of theglass-house, just as the men went in. He was as pale as a boiledchicken. "

Marietta had seen him, too, and the coincidence gave colour to the restof the woman's tale, as would have happened if the whole story had beenan invention instead of being quite true. Nella was combing the girl'sthick hair, an operation peculiarly conducive to a maid's chattering, for she has the certainty that her mistress cannot get away, and musttherefore listen patiently. 

A shadow had fallen on the brightness of Marietta's morning. She waspaler, too, but she said nothing. 

"Of course he was tired, " continued Nella. "Did you suppose that hewould come back with pink cheeks and bright eyes, like a baby frombaptism, after being out half the night?"

"He is always pale, " said Marietta. 

"Because he goes to Venice every night, " retorted Nella viciously. "Thatis the good reason! Oh, I am sure of it! And besides, I shall watch him, now that I know. I shall see him whenever he takes the boat. "

"It is none of your business where he goes, " answered Marietta. "It doesnot concern any one but himself. "

"Oh, indeed!" sneered Nella. "Then the honour of the house does notmatter! It is no concern of ours! And your father need never know thathis trusty servant, his clever assistant, his faithful confidant, whoshares all his secrets, is a good-for-nothing fellow who spends hisnights in gambling, or drinking, or perhaps in making love to someVenetian girl as honourable and well behaved as himself!"

Marietta had grown steadily more angry while Nella was talking. She hadher father's temper, though she could control it better than he. 

"I will find out whether this story is true, " she said coldly. "If it isnot, it will be the worse for you. You shall not serve me any longer, unless you can be more careful in what you say. "

Nella's jaw dropped and her hands stood still and trembled, the oneholding the comb upraised, the other gathering a quantity of hermistress's hair. Marietta had never spoken to her like this in her life. 

"Send me away?" faltered the woman in utter amazement. "Send me away!"she repeated, still quite dazed. "But it is impossible--" her voicebegan to break, as if some one were shaking her violently by theshoulders. "Oh no, no! You w-ill n-ot--no-o-o!"

The sound grew more piercing as she went on, and the words were soonlost, as she broke into a violent fit of hysterical crying. 

Marietta's anger subsided as her pity for the poor creature increased. She had made a great effort to speak quietly and not to say more thanshe meant, and she had certainly not expected to produce such atremendous commotion. Nella tore her hair, drew her nails down hercheeks, as if she would tear them with scratches, rocked herselfforwards and backwards and from side to side, the tears poured down herbrown cheeks, she screamed and blubbered and whimpered in quickalternation, and in a few moments tumbled into the corner of a bigchair, a sobbing and convulsed little heap of womanhood. 

Marietta tried to quiet her, and was so sorry for her that she couldalmost have cried too, until she remembered the detestable things whichNella had said about Zorzi, and which the woman's screams had driven outof her memory for an instant. Then she longed to beat her for sayingthem, and still Nella alternately moaned and howled, and twisted herselfin the corner of the big chair. Marietta wondered whether her servantwere going mad, and whether this might not be a judgment of heaven fortelling such atrocious lies about poor Zorzi. In that case it was ofcourse deserved, thought she, watching Nella's contortions; but it wasvery sudden. 

She made up her mind to call the other women, and turned to go to thedoor. As she did so her skirt caught a comb that lay on the edge of thetable and swept it off, so that it fell upon the pavement with a dryrap. Instantly Nella sat up straight and rubbed her eyes, looking aboutfor the cause of the sound. When she saw the comb, the serving-woman'sinstinct returned, and with it her normal condition of mind. She pickedup the comb with a quick movement, shook her head and began combingMarietta's hair again before the girl could sit down. 

Peace was restored, for she did not speak again, as she helped hermistress to finish dressing; but though Marietta tried to look kindly ather once or twice, Nella quite refused to see it, and did her dutywithout ever raising her eyes. 

It was soon finished, for the pleasure the young girl had taken inmaking much of the first details of the day that was to be so happy wasall gone. She did not believe her woman, but there was a cloud overeverything and she was in haste to get an answer to the question whichit would not be easy to ask. She must know if Zorzi had been to Veniceduring the night, for until she knew that, all hope of peace was at anend. Nella had meant no harm, but she had played the fatal little partin which destiny loves to go masking through life's endless play. 

CHAPTER V

Zorzi had slept but little after he had at last lain down upon the longbench in the laboratory, for the scene in which he had been the chiefactor that night had made a profound impression upon him. There are somemen who would not make good soldiers but who can face sudden anddesperate danger with a calmness which few soldiers really possess, andwhich is generally accompanied by some marked superiority of mind; butsuch exceptional natures feel the reaction that follows the perilousmoment far more than the average fighting man. They are those whosometimes stem the rush of panic and turn back whole armies from ruin tovictorious battle; they are those who spring forward from the crowd tosave life when some terrible accident has happened, as if they wererisking nothing, and who generally succeed in what they attempt; butthey are not men who learn to fight every day as carelessly andnaturally as they eat, drink or sleep. Their chance of action may comebut once or twice in a lifetime; yet when it comes it finds them farmore ready and cool than the average good soldier could ever be. Likestrength in some men, their courage seems to depend on quality and verylittle on quantity, training or experience. 

Zorzi knew very well that although the young gentlemen who were playingat conspiracy in Jacopo's house did not constitute a serious danger tothe Republic, they were fully aware of their own peril, and would nothave hesitated to take his life if it had not occurred to them that hemight be useful. His intrepid manner had saved him, but now that thenight was over he felt such a weariness and lassitude as he had neverknown before. 

The adventure had its amusing side, of course. To Zorzi, who knew thepeople well, it was very laughable to think that a score of dissoluteyoung patricians should first fancy themselves able to raise arevolution against the most firmly established government in Europe, andshould then squander the privacy which they had bought at a frightfulrisk in mere gambling and dice-playing. But there was nothing humorousabout the oath he had taken. In the first place, it had been sworn insolemn earnest, and was therefore binding upon him; secondly, if hebroke it, his life would not be worth a day's purchase. He was braveenough to have scorned the second consideration, but he was far toohonourable to try and escape the first. He had made the promises to savehis life, it was true, and under great pressure, but he would havedespised himself as a coward if he had not meant to keep them. 

And he had solemnly bound himself to respect "the betrothed brides" ofall the brethren of the company. Marietta was not betrothed to JacopoContarini yet, but there was no doubt that she would be before manydays; to "respect" undoubtedly meant that he must not try to win heraway from her affianced husband; if he had ever dreamt that in somefair, fantastically improbable future, Marietta could be his wife, hehad parted with the right to dream the like again. Therefore, when hehad stood awhile looking up at her window that morning, he sighedheavily and went away. 

He had never had any hope that she would love him, much less that hecould ever marry her, yet he felt that he was parting with the onlything in life which he held higher than his art, and that the partingwas final. For months, perhaps for years, he had never closed his eyesto sleep without calling up her face and repeating her name, he hadnever got up in the morning without looking forward to seeing her andhearing her voice before he should lie down again. A man more likeothers would have said to himself that no promise could bind him toanything more than the performance of an action, or the abstention fromone, and that the right of dreaming was his own for ever. But Zorzijudged differently. He had a sensitiveness that was rather manly thanmasculine; he had scruples of which he was not ashamed, but which mostmen would laugh at; he had delicacies of conscience in his most privatethoughts such as would have been more natural in a cloistered nun, living in ignorance of the world, than in a waif who had faced it at itsworst, and almost from childhood. Innocent as his dream had been, heresolved to part with it, and never to dream it again. He was glad thatMarietta had taken back the rose he had picked up yesterday; if she hadnot, he would have forced himself to throw it away, and that would havehurt him. 

So he began his day in a melancholy mood, as having buried out of sightfor ever something that was very dear to him. In time, his love of hisart would fill the place of the other love, but on this first day hewent about in silence, with hungry eyes and tightened lips, like a manwho is starving and is too proud to ask a charity. 

He waited for Beroviero at the door of his house, as he did everymorning, to attend him to the laboratory. The old man looked at himinquiringly, and Zorzi bent his head a little to explain that he haddone what had been required of him, and he followed his master acrossthe wooden bridge. When they were alone in the laboratory, he told asmuch of his story as was necessary. 

He had found the lord Jacopo Contarini at his house with a party offriends, he said, and he added at once that they were all men. Contarinihad bidden him speak before them all, but he had whispered his messageso that only Contarini should hear it. After a time he had been allowedto come away. No--Contarini had given no direct answer, he had sent noreply; he had only said aloud to his friends that the message hereceived was expected. That was all. The friends who were there? Zorzianswered with perfect truth that he did not remember to have seen, anyof them before. 

Beroviero was silent for a while, considering the story. 

"He would have thought it discourteous to leave his friends, " he said atlast, "or to whisper an answer to a messenger in their presence. He saidthat he had expected the message, he will therefore come. "

To this Zorzi answered nothing, for he was glad not to be questionedfurther about what had happened. Presently Beroviero settled to his workwith his usual concentration. For many months he had been experimentingin the making of fine red glass of a certain tone, of which he hadbrought home a small fragment from one of his journeys. Hitherto he hadfailed in every attempt. He had tried one mixture after another, and hadproduced a score of different specimens, but not one of them had thatmarvellous light in it, like sunshine striking through bright blood, which he was striving to obtain. It was nearly three weeks since hissmall furnace had been allowed to go out, and by this time he alone knewwhat the glowing pots contained, for he wrote down very carefully whathe did and in characters which he believed no one could understand buthimself. 

As usual every morning, he proceeded to make trial of the materialsfused in the night. The furnace, though not large, held three crucibles, before each of which was the opening, still called by the Italian name'bocca, ' through which the materials are put into the pots to melt intoglass, and by which the melted glass is taken out on the end of theblow-pipe, or in a copper ladle, when it is to be tested by casting it. The furnace was arched from end to end, and about the height of a tallman; the working end was like a round oven with three glowing openings;the straight part, some twenty feet long, contained the annealing oventhrough which the finished pieces were made to move slowly, on ironlier-pans, during many hours, till the glass had passed from extremeheat almost to the temperature of the air. The most delicate vesselsever produced in Murano have all been made in single furnaces, thematerials being melted, converted into glass and finally annealed, byone fire. At least one old furnace is standing and still in use, whichhas existed for centuries, and those made nowadays are substantiallylike it in every important respect. 

Zorzi stood holding a long-handled copper ladle, ready to take out aspecimen of the glass containing the ingredients most lately added. Afew steps from the furnace a thick and smooth plate of iron was placedon a heavy wooden table, and upon this the liquid glass was to be pouredout to cool. 

"It must be time, " said Beroviero, "unless the boys forgot to turn thesand-glass at one of the watches. The hour is all but run out, and itmust be the twelfth since I put in the materials. "

"I turned it myself, an hour after midnight, " said Zorzi, "and also thenext time, when it was dawn. It runs three hours. Judging by the time ofsunrise it is running right. "

"Then make the trial. "

Beroviero stood opposite Zorzi, his face pale with heat and excitement, his fiery eyes reflecting the fierce light from the 'bocca' as he bentdown to watch the copper ladle go in. Zorzi had wrapped a cloth roundhis right hand, against the heat, and he thrust the great spoon throughthe round orifice. Though it was the hundredth time of testing, the oldman watched his movements with intensest interest. 

"Quickly, quickly!" he cried, quite unconscious that he was speaking. 

There was no need of hurrying Zorzi. In two steps he had reached thetable, and the white hot stuff spread out over the iron plate, instantlyturning to a greenish yellow, then to a pale rose-colour, then to a deepand glowing red, as it felt the cool metal. The two men stood watchingit closely, for it was thin and would soon cool. Zorzi was too wise tosay anything. Beroviero's look of interest gradually turned into anexpression of disappointment. 

"Another failure, " he said, with a resignation which no one would haveexpected in such a man. 

His practised eyes had guessed the exact hue of the glass, while itstill lay on the iron, half cooled and far too hot to touch. Zorzi tooka short rod and pushed the round sheet till a part of it was over theedge of the table. 

"It is the best we have had yet, " he observed, looking at it. 

"Is it?" asked Beroviero with little interest, and without giving theglass another glance. "It is not what I am trying to get. It is thecolour of wine, not of blood. Make something, Zorzi, while I write downthe result of the experiment. "

He took big pen and the sheet of rough paper on which he had alreadynoted the proportions of the materials, and he began to write, sittingat the large table before the open window. Zorzi took the long ironblow-pipe, cleaned it with a cloth and pushed the end through theorifice from which he had taken the specimen. He drew it back with alittle lump of melted glass sticking to it. 

Holding the blow-pipe to his lips, he blew a little, and the lumpswelled, and he swung the pipe sharply in a circle, so that the glasslengthened to the shape of a pear, and he blew again and it grew. At the'bocca' of the furnace he heated it, for it was cooling quickly; and hehad his iron pontil ready, as there was no one to help him, and heeasily performed the feat of taking a little hot glass on it from thepot and attaching it to the further end of the fast-cooling pear. IfBeroviero had been watching him he would have been astonished at theskill with which the young man accomplished what it requires two personsto do; but Zorzi had tricks of his own, and the pontil supported itselfon a board while he cracked the pear from the blow-pipe with a wet iron, as well as if a boy had held it in place for him; and then heating andreheating the piece, he fashioned it and cut it with tongs and shears, rolling the pontil on the flat arms of his stool with his left hand, and modelling the glass with his right, till at last he let it cool toits natural colour, holding it straight downward, and then swinging itslowly, so that it should fan itself in the air. It was a graceful calixnow, of a deep wine red, clear and transparent as claret. 

Zorzi turned to the window to show it to his master, not for the sake ofthe workmanship but of the colour. The old man's head was bent over hiswriting; Marietta was standing outside, and her eyes met Zorzi's. He didnot blush as he had blushed yesterday, when he looked up from the fireand saw her; he merely inclined his head respectfully, to acknowledgeher presence, and then he stood by the table waiting for the master tonotice him, and not bestowing another glance on the young girl. 

Beroviero turned to him at last. He was so used to Marietta's presencethat he paid no attention to her. 

"What is that thing?" he asked contemptuously. 

"A specimen of the glass we tried, " answered the young man. "I haveblown it thin to show the colour. "

"A man who can have such execrable taste as to make a drinking-cup ofcoloured glass does not deserve to know as much as you do. "

"But it is very pretty, " said Marietta through the window, and bendingforward she rested her white hands on the table, among the little heapsof chemicals. "Anneal it, and give it to me, " she added. 

"Keep such a thing in my house?" asked Beroviero scornfully. "Break upthat rubbish!" he added roughly, speaking to Zorzi. 

Without a word Zorzi smashed the calix off the iron into an old earthenjar already half full of broken glass. Then he put the pontil in itsplace and went to tend the fire. Marietta left the window and enteredthe room. 

"Am I disturbing you?" she asked gently, as she stood by her father. 

"No. I have finished writing. " He laid down his pen. 

"Another failure?"

"Yes. "

"Perhaps I do not bring you good luck with your experiments, " suggestedthe girl, leaning down and looking over his shoulder at the crabbedwriting, so that her cheek almost touched his. "Is that why you wish tosend me away?"

Beroviero turned in his chair, raised his heavy brows and looked up intoher face, but said nothing. 

"Nella has just told me that you have ordered my wedding gown, "continued Marietta. 

"We are not alone, " said her father in a low voice. 

"Zorzi probably knows what is the gossip of the house, and what I havebeen the last to hear, " answered the young girl. "Besides, you trust himwith all your secrets. "

"Yes, I trust him, " assented Beroviero. "But these are privatematters. "

"So private, that my serving-woman knows more of them than I do. "

"You encourage her to talk. "

Marietta laughed, for she was determined to be good-humoured, in spiteof what she said. 

"If I did, that would not teach her things which I do not know myself!Is it true that you have ordered the gown to be embroidered withpearls?"

"You like pearls, do you not?" asked Beroviero with a little anxiety. 

"You see!" cried Marietta triumphantly. "Nella knows all about it. "

"I was going to tell you this morning, " said her father in a tone ofannoyance. "By my faith, one can keep nothing secret! One cannot evengive you a surprise. "

"Nella knows everything, " returned the girl, sitting on the corner ofthe table and looking from her father to Zorzi. "That must be why youchose her for my serving-woman when I was a little girl. She knows allthat happens in the house by day and night, so that I sometimes thinkshe never sleeps. "

Zorzi looked furtively towards the table, for he could not help hearingall that was said. 

"For instance, " continued Marietta, watching him, "she knows that lastnight some one unlocked the chain that moors the skiff, and rowed awaytowards Venice. "

To her surprise Zorzi showed no embarrassment. He had made up the fireand now sat down at a little distance, on one of the flat arms of theglass-blower's working-stool. His face was pale and quiet, and his eyesdid not avoid hers. 

"If I caught any one using my boat without my leave, I would make himpay dear, " said Beroviero, but without anger, as if he were stating ageneral truth. 

"Whoever it was who took the boat brought it back an hour aftermidnight, locked the padlock again and went away, " said Marietta. 

"Tell Nella that I am much indebted to her for her watchfulness. She isas good as a house-dog. Tell her to come and wake me if she sees any onetaking the boat again. "

"She says she knows who took it last night, " observed Marietta, who waspuzzled by the attitude of the two men; she had now decided that it hadnot been Zorzi who had used the boat, but on the other hand the storydid not rouse her father's anger as she had expected. 

"Did she tell you the man's name?"

"Yes. "

"Who was it?"

"She said it was Zorzi. " Marietta laughed incredulously as she spoke, and Zorzi smiled quietly. 

Beroviero was silent for a moment and looked out of the window. 

"Listen to me, " he said at last. "Tell your graceless gossip of aserving-woman that I will answer for Zorzi, and that the next time shehears any one taking the boat at night she had better come and call me, and open her eyes a little wider. Tell her also that I entertain properpersons to take care of my property without any help from her. Tell herfurthermore that she talks too much. You should not listen to aservant's miserable chatter. "

"I will tell her, " replied Marietta meekly. "Did you say that the gownwas to be embroidered with pearls and silver, father, or with pearls andgold?"

"I believe I said gold, " answered the old man discontentedly. 

"And when will it be ready? In about two months?"

"I daresay. "

"So you mean to marry me in two months, " concluded Marietta. "That isnot a long time. "

"Should you prefer two years?" inquired Beroviero with increasingannoyance. Marietta slipped from the table to her feet. 

"It depends on the bridegroom, " she answered. "Perhaps I may prefer towait a lifetime!" She moved towards the door. 

"Oh, you shall be satisfied with the bridegroom! I promise you that. "The old man looked after her. At the door she turned her head, smiling. 

"I may be hard to please, " she said quietly, and she went out into thegarden. 

When she was gone Beroviero shut the window carefully, and though theround bull's-eye panes let in the light plentifully, they effectuallyprevented any one from seeing into the room. The door was alreadyclosed. 

"You should have been more careful, " he said to Zorzi in a tone ofreproach. "You should not have let any one see you, when you took theboat. "

"If the woman spent half the night looking out of her window, sir, I donot understand how I could have taken the boat without being seen byher. "

"Well, well, there is no harm done, and you could not help it, Idaresay. I have something else to say. You saw the lord Jacopo lastnight; what do you think of him? He is a fine-looking young man. Shouldnot any girl be glad to get such a handsome husband? What do you think?And his name, too! one of the best in the Great Council. They say he hasa few debts, but his father is very rich, and has promised me that hewill pay everything if only his son can be brought to marry and lead agraver life. What do you think?"

"He is a very handsome young man, " said Zorzi loyally. "What should Ithink? It is a most honourable marriage for your house. "

"I hear no great harm of Jacopo, " continued Beroviero more familiarly. "His father is miserly. We have spent much time in the preliminaryarrangements, without the knowledge of the son, and the old man is verygrasping! He would take all my fortune for the dowry if he could. But hehas to do with a glass-blower!"

Beroviero smiled thoughtfully. Zorzi was silent, for he was suffering. 

"You may wonder why I sent that message last night, " began the masteragain, "since matters are already so far settled with Jacopo's father. You would suppose that nothing more remained but to marry the couple inthe presence of both families, should you not?"

"I know little of such affairs, sir, " answered Zorzi. 

"That would be the usual way, " continued Beroviero. "But I will notmarry Marietta against her will. I have always told her so. She shallsee her future husband before she is betrothed, and persuade herselfwith her own eyes that she is not being deceived into marrying ahunchback. "

"But supposing that after all the lord Jacopo should not be to hertaste, " suggested Zorzi, "would you break off the match?"

"Break off the match?" cried Beroviero indignantly. "Never! Not to hertaste? The handsomest man in Venice, with a great name and a fortune tocome? It would not be my fault if the girl went mad and refused! I wouldmake her like him if she dared to hesitate a moment!"

"Even against her will?"

"She has no will in the matter, " retorted Beroviero angrily. 

"But you have always told her that you would not marry her against herwill--"

"Do not anger me, Zorzi! Do not try your specious logic with me! Inventno absurd arguments, man! Against her will, indeed? How should she knowany will but mine in the matter? I shall certainly not marry heragainst her will! She shall will what I please, neither more nor less. "

"If that is your point of view, " said Zorzi, "there is no room forargument. "

"Of course not. Any reasonable person would laugh at the idea that agirl in her senses should not be glad to marry Jacopo Contarini, especially after having seen him. If she were not glad, she would not bein her senses, in other words she would not be sane, and should betreated as a lunatic, for her own good. Would you let a lunatic do as heliked, if he tried to jump out of the window? The mere thought isabsurd. "

"Quite, " said Zorzi. 

Sad as he was, he could almost have laughed at the old man'sinconsequent speeches. 

"I am glad that you so heartily agree with me, " answered Beroviero inperfect sincerity. "I do not mean to say that I would ask your opinionabout my daughter's marriage. You would not expect that. But I know thatI can trust you, for we have worked together a long time, and I am usedto hearing what you have to say. "

"You have always been very good to me, " replied Zorzi gratefully. 

"You have always been faithful to me, " said the old man, laying his handgently on Zorzi's shoulder. "I know what that means in this world. "

As soon as there was no question of opposing his despotic will, hiskindly nature asserted itself, for he was a man subject to quickchanges of humour, but in reality affectionate. 

"I am going to trust you much more than hitherto, " he continued. "Mysons are grown men, independent of me, but willing to get from me allthey can. If they were true artists, if I could trust their taste, theyshould have had my secrets long ago. But they are mere money-makers, andit is better that they should enrich themselves with the tastelessrubbish they make in their furnaces, than degrade our art by cheapeningwhat should be rare and costly. Am I right?"

"Indeed you are!" Zorzi now spoke in a tone of real conviction. 

"If I thought you were really capable of making coloured drinking-cupslike that abominable object you made this morning, with the idea thatthey could ever be used, you should not stay on Venetian soil a day, "resumed the old man energetically. "You would be as bad as my sons, orworse. Even they have enough sense to know that half the beauty of acup, when it is used, lies in the colour of the wine itself, which mustbe seen through it. But I forgive you, because you were only anxious toblow the glass thin, in order to show me the tint. You know better. Thatis why I mean to trust you in a very grave matter. "

Zorzi bent his head respectfully, but said nothing. 

"I am obliged to make a journey before my daughter's marriage takesplace, " continued Beroviero. "I shall entrust to you the manuscriptsecrets I possess. They are in a sealed package so that you cannot readthem, but they will be in your care. If I leave them with any one else, my sons will try to get possession of them while I am away. During mylast journey I carried them with me, but I am growing old, life isuncertain, especially when a man is travelling, and I would rather leavethe packet with you. It will be safer. "

"It shall be altogether safe, " said Zorzi. "No one shall guess that Ihave it. "

"No one must know. I would take you with me on this journey, but I wishyou to go on with the experiments I have been making. We shall savetime, if you try some of the mixtures while I am away. When it is toohot, let the furnace go out. "

"But who will take charge of your daughter, sir?" asked Zorzi. "Youcannot leave her alone in the house. "

"My son Giovanni and his wife will live in my house while I am away. Ihave thought of everything. If you choose, you may bring your belongingshere, and sleep and eat in the glass-house. "

"I should prefer it. "

"So should I. I do not want my sons to pry into what we are doing. Youcan hide the packet here, where they will not think of looking for it. When you go out, lock the door. When you are in, Giovanni will not come. You will have the place to yourself, and the boys who feed the fire atnight will not disturb you. Of course my daughter will never come herewhile I am away. You will be quite alone. "

"When do you go?" asked Zorzi. 

"On Monday morning. On Sunday I shall take Marietta to Saint Mark's. When she has seen her husband the betrothal can take place at once. "

Zorzi was silent, for the future looked black enough. He already sawhimself shut up in the glass-house for two long months, or not muchless, as effectually separated from Marietta by the narrow canal as ifan ocean were between them. She would never cross over and spend an hourin the little garden then, and she would be under the care of GiovanniBeroviero, who hated him, as he well knew. 

CHAPTER VI

Aristarchi rose early, though it had been broad dawn when he had enteredhis home. He lived not far from the house of the Agnus Dei, on theopposite side of the same canal but beyond the Baker's Bridge. His housewas small and unpretentious, a little wooden building in two stories, with a small door opening to the water and another at the back, givingaccess to a patch of dilapidated and overgrown garden, whence a seconddoor opened upon a dismal and unsavoury alley. One faithful man, who hadfollowed him through many adventures, rendered him such services as heneeded, prepared the food he liked and guarded the house in his absence. The fellow was far too much in awe of his terrible master to play thespy or to ask inopportune questions. 

The Greek put on the rich dress of a merchant captain of his own people, the black coat, thickly embroidered with gold, the breeches of dark bluecloth, the almost transparent linen shirt, open at the throat. A largeblue cap of silk and cloth was set far back on his head, showing all thebony forehead, and his coal-black beard and shaggy hair had been combedas smooth as their shaggy nature would allow. He wore a magnificentbelt fully two hands wide, in which were stuck three knives offormidable length and breadth, in finely chased silver sheaths. Hismuscular legs were encased in leathern gaiters, ornamented with gold andsilver, and on his feet he wore broad turned-up slippers fromConstantinople. The dress was much the same as that which the Turks hadfound there a few years earlier, and which they soon amalgamated withtheir own. It set off the captain's vast breadth of shoulder and massivelimbs, and as he stepped into his hired boat the idlers at thewater-stairs gazed upon him with an admiration of which he was wellaware, for besides being very splendidly dressed he looked as if hecould have swept them all into the canal with a turn of his hand. 

Without saying whither he was bound he directed the oarsman through thenarrow channels until he reached the shallow lagoon. The boatman askedwhither he should go. 

"To Murano, " answered the Greek. "And keep over by Saint Michael's, forthe tide is low. "

The boatman had already understood that his passenger knew Venice almostas well as he. The boat shot forward at a good rate under the bendingoar, and in twenty minutes Aristarchi was at the entrance to the canalof San Piero and within sight of Beroviero's house. 

"Easy there, " said the Greek, holding up his hand. "Do you know Muranowell, my man?"

"As well as Venice, sir. "

"Whose house is that, which has the upper story built on columns overthe footway?"

"It belongs to Messer Angelo Beroviero. His glass-house takes up all theleft aide of the canal as far as the bridge. "

"And beyond the bridge I can see two new houses, on the same side. Whoseare they?"

"They belong to the two sons of Messer Angelo Beroviero, who havefurnaces of their own, all the way to the corner of the Grand Canal. "

"Is there a Grand Canal in Murano?" asked Aristarchi. 

"They call it so, " answered the boatman with some contempt. "TheBeroviero have several houses on it, too. "

"It seems to me that Beroviero owns most of Murano, " observed the Greek. "He must be very rich. "

"He is by far the richest. But there is Alvise Trevisan, a rich man, too, and there are two or three others. The island and all theglass-works are theirs, amongst them. "

"I have business with Messer Angelo, " said Aristarchi. "But if he issuch a great man he will hardly be in the glass-house. "

"I will ask, " answered the boatman. 

In a few minutes he made his boat fast to the steps before theglass-house, went ashore and knocked at the door. Aristarchi leaned backin his seat, chewing pistachio nuts, which he carried in an embroideredleathern bag at his belt. His right hand played mechanically with theshort string of thick amber beads which he used for counting. The Junesun blazed down upon his swarthy face. 

At the grating beside the door the porter's head appeared, partiallyvisible behind the bars. 

"Is Messer Angelo Beroviero within?" inquired the boatman civilly. 

"What is your business?" asked the porter in a tone of surly contempt, instead of answering the question. 

"There is a rich foreign gentleman here, who desires to speak with him, "answered the boatman. 

"Is he the Pope?" asked the porter, with fine irony. 

"No, sir, " said the other, intimidated by the fellow's manner. "He is arich--"

"Tell him to wait, then. " And the surly head disappeared. 

The boatman supposed that the man was gone to speak with his master, andwaited patiently by the door. Aristarchi chewed his pistachio nut tillthere was nothing left, at which time he reached the end of hispatience. He argued that it was a good sign if Angelo Beroviero keptrich strangers waiting at his gate, for it showed that he had no need oftheir custom. On the other hand the Greek's dignity was offended nowthat he had been made to wait too long, for he was hasty by nature. Once, in a fit of irritation with a Candiot who stammered out of sheerfright, the captain had ordered him to be hanged. Having finished hisnut, he stood up in the boat and stepped ashore. 

"Knock again, " he said to the boatman, who obeyed. 

There was no answer this time. 

"I can hear the fellow inside, " said the boatman. 

The grating was too high for a man to look through it from outside. Aristarchi laid his knotty hands on the stone sill and pulled himself uptill his face was against the grating. He now looked in and saw theporter sitting in his chair. 

"Have you taken my message to your master?" inquired the Greek. 

The porter looked up in surprise, which increased when he caught sightof the ferocious face of the speaker. But he was not to be intimidatedso easily. 

"Messer Angelo is not to be disturbed at his studies, " he said. "If youwait till noon, perhaps he will come out to go to dinner. "

"Perhaps!" repeated Aristarchi, still hanging by his hands. "Do youthink I shall wait all day?"

"I do not know. That is your affair. "

"Precisely. And I do not mean to wait. "

"Then go away. "

But the Greek had come on an exploring expedition in which he hadnothing to lose. Hauling himself up a little higher, till his mouth wasclose to the grating, he hailed the house as he would have hailed a shipat sea, in a voice of thunder. 

"Ahoy there! Is any one within? Ahoy! Ahoy!"

This was more than the porter's equanimity could bear. He looked aboutfor a weapon with which to attack the Greek's face through the bars, heaping, upon him a torrent of abuse in the meantime. 

"Son of dogs and mules!" he cried in a rising growl. "Ill befall thefoul souls of thy dead and of their dead before them. "

"Ahoy--oh! Ahoy!" bellowed the Greek, who now thoroughly enjoyed thesituation. 

The boatman, anxious for drink money, and convinced that his hugeemployer would get the better of the porter, had obligingly gone downupon his hands and knees, thrusting his broad back under the captain'sfeet, so that Aristarchi stood upon him and was now prepared to prolongthe interview without any further effort. His terrific shouts rangthrough the corridor to the garden. 

The first person to enter the little lodge was Marietta herself, and theGreek broke off short in the middle of another tremendous yell as soonas he saw her. She turned her face up to him, quite fearlessly, and wasvery much inclined to laugh as she saw the sudden change in hisexpression. 

"Madam, " he said with great politeness, "I beg you to forgive my mannerof announcing myself. If your porter were more obliging, I should havebeen admitted in the ordinary way. "

"What is this atrocious disturbance?" asked Zorzi, entering beforeMarietta could answer. "Pray leave the fellow to me, " he added, speakingto Marietta, who cast one more glance at Aristarchi and went out. 

"Sir, " said the captain blandly, "I admit that my behaviour may give yousome right to call me 'fellow, ' but I trust that my apology will makeyou consider me a gentleman like yourself. Your porter altogetherrefused to take a message to Messer Angelo Beroviero. May I ask whetheryou are his son, sir?"

"No, sir. You say that you wish to speak with the master. I can take amessage to him, but I am not sure that he will see any one to-day. "

Aristarchi imagined that Beroviero made himself inaccessible, in orderto increase the general idea of his wealth and importance. He resolvedto convey a strong impression of his own standing. 

"I am the chief partner in a great house of Greek merchants settled inPalermo, " he said. "My name is Charalambos Aristarchi, and I desire thehonour of speaking with Messer Angelo about the purchase of severalcargoes of glass for the King of Sicily. "

"I will deliver your message, sir, " said Zorzi. "Pray wait a minute, Iwill open the door. "

Aristarchi's big head disappeared at last. 

"Yes!" growled the porter to Zorzi. "Open the door yourself, and takethe blame. The man has the face of a Turkish pirate, and his voice islike the bellowing of several bulls. "

Zorzi unbarred the door, which opened inward, and Aristarchi turned alittle sideways in order to enter, for his shoulders would have touchedthe two door-posts. The slight and gracefully built Dalmatian looked athim with some curiosity, standing aside to let him pass, before barringthe door again. Aristarchi, though not much taller than himself, was thebiggest man he had ever seen. He thanked Zorzi, who pushed forward theporter's only chair for him to sit on while he waited. 

"I will bring you an answer immediately, " said Zorzi, and disappeareddown the corridor. 

Aristarchi sat down, crossed one leg over the other, and took apistachio nut from his pouch. 

"Master porter, " he began in a friendly tone, "can you tell me who thatbeautiful lady is, who came here a moment ago?"

"There is no reason why I should, " snarled the porter, beginning tostrip the outer leaves from a large onion which he pulled from a stringof them hanging by the wall. 

Aristarchi said nothing for a few moments, but watched the man with anair of interest. 

"Were you ever a pirate?" he inquired presently. 

"No, I never served in your crew. "

The porter was not often at a loss for a surly answer. The Greek laughedoutright, in genuine amusement. 

"I like your company, my friend, " he said. "I should like to spend theday here. "

"As the devil said to Saint Anthony, " concluded the porter. 

Aristarchi laughed again. It was long since he had enjoyed such amusingconversation, and there was a certain novelty in not being feared. Herepeated his first question, however, remembering that he had not comein search of diversion, but to gather information. 

"Who was the beautiful lady?" he asked. "She is Messer Angelo'sdaughter, is she not?"

"A man who asks a question when he knows the answer is either a fool ora knave. Choose as you please. "

"Thanks, friend, " answered Aristarchi, still grinning and showing hisjagged teeth. "I leave the first choice to you. Whichever you take, Iwill take the other. For if you call me a knave, I shall call you afool, but if you think me a fool, I am quite satisfied that you shouldbe the knave. "

The porter snarled, vaguely feeling that the Greek had the better ofhim. At that moment Zorzi returned, and his coming put an end to theexchange of amenities. 

"My master has no long leisure, " he said, "but he begs you to come in. "

They left the lodge together, and the porter watched them as they wentdown the dark corridor, muttering unholy things about the visitor whohad disturbed him, and bestowing a few curses on Zorzi. Then he wentback to peeling his onions. 

As Aristarchi went through the garden, he saw Marietta sitting under theplane-tree, making a little net of coloured beads. Her face was turnedfrom him and bent down, but when he had passed she glanced furtivelyafter him, wondering at his size. But her eyes followed Zorzi, till thetwo reached the door and went in. A moment later Zorzi came out again, leaving his master and the Greek together. Marietta looked down atonce, lest her eyes should betray her gladness, for she knew that Zorziwould not go back and could not leave the glass-house, so that siteshould necessarily be alone with him while the interview in thelaboratory lasted. 

He came a little way down the path, then stopped, took a short knifefrom his wallet and began to trim away a few withered sprigs from arose-bush. She waited a moment, but he showed no signs of coming nearer, so she spoke to him. 

"Will you come here?" she asked softly, looking towards him withhalf-closed eyes. 

He slipped the knife back into his pouch and walked quickly to her side. She looked down again, threading the coloured beads that half filled asmall basket in her lap. 

"May I ask you a question?" Her voice had a little persuasive hesitationin it, as if she wished him to understand that the answer would be afavour of which she was anything but certain. 

"Anything you will, " said Zorzi. 

"Provided I do not ask about my father's secret!" A little laughtertrembled in the words. "You were so severe yesterday, you know. I amalmost afraid ever to ask you anything again. "

"I will answer as well as I can. "

"Well--tell me this. Did you really take the boat and go to Venice lastnight?"

"Yes. "

Marietta's hand moved with the needle among the beads, but she did notthread one. Nella had been right, after all. 

"Why did you go, Zorzi?" The question came in a lower tone that was fullof regret. 

"The master sent me, " answered Zorzi, looking down at her hair, andwishing that he could see her face. 

His wish was almost instantly fulfilled. After the slightest pause shelooked up at him with a lovely smile; yet when he saw that rare look inher face, his heart sank suddenly, instead of swelling and standingstill with happiness, and when she saw how sad he was, she was gravewith the instant longing to feel whatever he felt of pain or sorrow. That is one of the truest signs of love, but Zorzi had not learned muchof love's sign-language yet, and did not understand. 

"What is it?" she asked almost tenderly. 

He turned his eyes from her and rested one hand against the trunk of theplane-tree. 

"I do not understand, " he said slowly. 

"Why are you so sad? What is it that is always making you suffer?"

"How could I tell you?" The words were spoken almost under his breath. 

"It would be very easy to tell me, " she said. "Perhaps I could helpyou--"

"Oh no, no, no!" he cried with an accent of real pain. "You could nothelp me!"

"Who knows? Perhaps I am the best friend you have in the world, Zorzi. "

"Indeed I believe you are! No one has ever been so good to me. "

"And you have not many friends, " continued Marietta. "The workmen arejealous of you, because you are always with my father. My brothers donot like you, for the same reason, and they think that you will get myfather's secret from him some day, and outdo them all. No--you have notmany friends. "

"I have none, but you and the master. The men would kill me if theydared. "

Marietta started a little, remembering how the workmen had looked at himin the morning, when he came out. 

"You need not be afraid, " he added, seeing her movement. "They will nottouch me. "

"Does my father know what your trouble is?" asked Marietta suddenly. 

"No! That is--I have no trouble, I assure you. I am of a melancholynature. "

"I am glad it has nothing to do with the secrets, " said the young girl, quietly ignoring the last part of his speech. "If it had, I could nothelp you at all. Could I?"

That morning it had seemed an easy thing to wait even two years beforegiving him a sign, before dropping in his path the rose which she wouldnot ask of him again. The minutes seemed years now. For she knew wellenough what his trouble was, since yesterday; he loved her, and hethought it infinitely impossible, in his modesty, that she should everstoop to him. After she had spoken, she looked at him with half-closedeyes for a while, but he stared stonily at the trunk of the tree besidehis hand. Gradually, as she gazed, her lids opened wider, and themorning sunlight sparkled in the deep blue, and her fresh lips parted. Before she was aware of it he was looking at her with a strangeexpression she had never seen. Then she faintly blushed and looked downat her beads once more. She felt as if she had told him that she lovedhim. But he had not understood. He had only seen the transfiguration ofher face, and it had been for a moment as he had never seen it before. Again his heart sank suddenly, and he uttered a little sound that wasmore than a sigh and less than a groan. 

"There are remedies for almost every kind of pain, " said Mariettawisely, as she threaded several beads. 

"Give me one for mine, " he cried almost bitterly. "Bid that which is tocease from being, and that to be which is not earthly possible! Turn theworld back, and undo truth, and make it all a dream! Then I shall findthe remedy and forget that it was needed. "

"There are magicians who pretend to do such things, " she answeredsoftly. 

"I would there were!" he sighed. 

"But those who come to them for help tell all, else the magician has nopower. Would you call a physician, if you were ill, and tell him thatthe pain you felt was in your head, if it was really--in your heart?"

She had paused an instant before speaking the last words, and they camewith a little effort. 

"How could the physician cure you, if you would not tell him the truth?"she asked, as he said nothing. "How can the wizard work miracles foryou, unless he knows what miracle you ask? How can your best friend helpyou if--if she does not know what help you need?"

Still he was silent, leaning against the tree, with bent head. The painwas growing worse, and harder to bear. She spoke so softly and kindlythat it would have been easy to tell her the truth, he thought, forthough she could never love him, she would understand, and would forgivehim. He had not dreamed that friendship could be so kind. 

"Am I right?" she asked, after a pause. 

"Yes, " he answered. "When I cannot bear it any longer, I will tell you, and you will help me. "

"Why not now?"

The little question might have been ruinous to all his resolution, ifZorzi had not been almost like a child in his simplicity--or like asaint in his determination to be loyal. For he thought it loyalty to besilent, not only for the sake of the promise he had given in return forhis life, but in respect of his master also, who put such great trust inhim. 

"Pray do not press me with the question, " he said. "You tempt me verymuch, and I do not wish to speak of what I feel. Be my friend in realtruth, if you can, and do not ask me to say what I shall ever after wishunsaid. That will be the best friendship. "

Marietta looked across the garden thoughtfully, and suddenly a chillingdoubt fell upon her heart. She could not have been mistaken yesterday, she could not be deceived in him now; and yet, if he loved her as shebelieved, she had said all that a maiden could to show him that shewould listen willingly. She had said too much, and she felt ashamed andhurt, almost resentful. He was not a boy. If he loved her, he could findwords to tell her so, and should have found them, for she had helped himto her utmost. Suddenly, she almost hated him, for what his silence madeher feel, and she told herself that she was glad he had not dared tospeak, for she did not love him at all. It was all a sickening mistake, it was all a miserable little dream; she wished that he would go awayand leave her to herself. Not that she should shed a single tear! Shewas far too angry for that, but his presence, so near her, reminded herof what she had done. He must have seen, all through their talk, thatshe was trying to make him tell his love, and there was nothing to tell. Of course he would despise her. That was natural, but she had a right tohate him for it, and she would, with all her heart! Her thoughts allcame together in a tumult of disgust and resentment. If Zorzi did not goaway presently, she would go away herself. She was almost resolved toget up and leave the garden, when the door opened. 

"Zorzi!" It was Beroviero's voice. 

Aristarchi already stood in the doorway taking leave of Beroviero with, many oily protestations of satisfaction in having made hisacquaintance. Zorzi went forward to accompany the Greek to the door. 

"I shall never forget that I have had the honour of being received bythe great artist himself, " said Aristarchi, who held his big cap in hishand and was bowing low on the threshold. 

"The pleasure has been all on my side, " returned Beroviero courteously. 

"On the contrary, quite on the contrary, " protested his guest, backingaway and then turning to go. 

Zorzi walked beside him, on his left. As they reached the entrance tothe corridor Aristarchi turned once more, and made an elaborate bow, sweeping the ground with his cap, for Beroviero had remained at the doortill he should be out of sight. He bent his head, making a graciousgesture with his hand, and went in as the Greek disappeared. Zorzifollowed the latter, showing him out. 

Marietta saw the door close after her father, and she knew that Zorzimust come back through the garden in a few moments. She bent her headover her beads as she heard his step, and pretended not to see him. Whenhe came near her he stood still a moment, but she would not look up, andbetween annoyance and disappointment and confusion she felt that she wasblushing, which she would not have had Zorzi see for anything. Shewondered why he did not go on. 

"Have I offended you?" he asked, in a low voice. 

Oddly enough, her embarrassment disappeared as soon as he spoke, and theblush faded away. 

"No, " she answered, coldly enough. "I am not angry--I am only sorry. "

"But I am glad that I would not answer your question, " returned Zorzi. 

"I doubt whether you had any answer to give, " retorted Marietta with atouch of scorn. 

Zorzi's brows contracted sharply and he made a movement to go on. So herproffered friendship was worth no more than that, he thought. She wasangry and scornful because her curiosity was disappointed. She could nothave guessed his secret, he was sure, though that might account for hertemper, for she would of course be angry if she knew that he loved her. And she was angry now because he had refused to tell her so. That was awoman's logic, he thought, quite regardless of the defect in his own. Itwas just like a woman! He sincerely wished that he might tell her so. 

In the presence of Marietta the man who had confronted sudden death lessthan twenty-four hours ago, with a coolness that had seemed imposing toother men, was little better than a girl himself. He turned to go on, without saying more. But she stopped him. 

"I am sorry that you do not care for my friendship, " she said, in a hurttone. She could not have said anything which he would have found itharder to answer just then. 

"What makes you think that?" he asked, hoping to gain time. 

"Many things. It is quite true, so it does not matter what makes methink it!"

She tried to laugh scornfully, but there was a quaver in her voice whichshe herself had not expected and was very far from understanding. Whyshould she suddenly feel that she was going to cry? It had seemed soridiculous in poor Nella that morning. Yet there was a most unmistakablesomething in her throat, which frightened her. It would be dreadful ifshe should burst into tears over her beads before Zorzi's eyes. Shetried to gulp the something: down, and suddenly, as she bent over thebasket, she saw the beautiful, hateful drops falling fast upon thelittle dry glass things; and even then, in her shame at being seen, shewondered why the beads looked, bigger through the glistening tears--sheremembered afterwards how they looked, so she must have noticed them atthe time. 

Zorzi knew too little of women to have any idea of what he ought to dounder the circumstances. He did not know whether to turn his back or togo away, so he stood still and looked at her, which was the very worstthing he could have done. Worse still, he tried to reason with her. 

"I assure you that you are mistaken, " he said in a soothing tone. "Iwish for your friendship with all my heart! Only, when you ask me--"

"Oh, go away! For heaven's sake go away!" cried Marietta, almostchoking, and turning her face quite away, so that he could only see theback of her head. 

At the same time, she tapped the ground impatiently with her foot, andto make matters worse, the little basket of beads began to slip off herknees at the same moment. She caught at it desperately, trying not tolook round and half blinded by her tears, but she missed it, and but forZorzi it would have fallen. He put it into her hands very gently, butshe was not in the least grateful. 

"Oh, please go away!" she repeated. "Can you not understand?"

He did not understand, but he obeyed her and turned away, very grave, very much puzzled by this new development of affairs, and sincerelywishing that some wise familiar spirit would whisper the explanation inhis ear, since he could not possibly consult any living person. 

She heard him go and she listened for the shutting of the laboratorydoor. Then she knew that she was quite alone in the garden, and she letthe tears flow as they would, bending her head till it touched the trunkof the tree, and they wet the smooth bark and ran down to the dry earth. 

Zorzi went in, and began to tend the fire as usual, until it shouldplease the master to give him other orders. Old Beroviero was sitting inthe big chair in which he sometimes rested himself, his elbow on one ofits arms, and his hand grasping his beard below his chin. 

"Zorzi, " he said at last, "I have seen that man before. "

Zorzi looked at him, expecting more, but for some time Beroviero saidnothing. The young man selected his pieces of beech wood, laying themready before the little opening just above the floor. 

"It is very strange, " said Beroviero at last. "He seems to be a richmerchant now, but I am almost quite sure that I saw him in Naples. "

"Did you know him there, sir?" asked Zorzi. 

"No, " answered his master thoughtfully. "I saw him in a cart with hishands tied behind him, on his way to be hanged. "

"He looks as if one hanging would not be enough for him, " observedZorzi. 

Beroviero was silent for a moment. Then he laughed, and he laughed veryrarely. 

"Yes, " he said. "It is not a face one could forget easily, " he added. 

Then he rose and went back to his table. 

CHAPTER VII

The sun was high over Venice, gleaming on the blue lagoons that lightlyrippled under a southerly breeze, filling the vast square of SaintMark's with blinding light, casting deep shadows behind the church andin the narrow alleys and canals to northward, about the Merceria. Themorning haze had long since blown away, and the outlines of the oldchurch and monastery on Saint George's island, and of the buildings onthe Guidecca, and on the low-lying Lido, were hard and clear against thecloudless sky, mere designs cut out in rich colours, as if with a sharpknife, and reared up against a background of violent light. In Veniceonly the melancholy drenching rain of a winter's day brings rest to theeye, when water meets water and sky is washed into sea and the city liessoaking and dripping between two floods. But soon the wind shifts to thenortheast, out breaks the sun again, and all Venice is instantly in aglare of light and colour and startling distinctness, like the sails andrigging of a ship at sea on a clear day. 

It was Sunday morning and high mass was over in Saint Mark's. The crowdhad streamed out of the central door, spreading like a bright fan overthe square, the men in gay costumes, red, green, blue, yellow, purple, brown, and white, their legs particoloured in halves and quarters, sothat when looking at a group it was mere guesswork to match the pairthat belonged to one man; women in dresses of one tone, mostly rich anddark, and often heavily embroidered, for no sumptuary laws couldeffectually limit outward display, and the insolent vanity of an agestill almost mediaeval made it natural that the rich should attirethemselves as richly as they could, and that the poor should be despisedfor wearing poor clothes. 

Angelo Beroviero had a true Venetian's taste for splendour, but he wasalso deeply imbued with the Venetian love of secrecy in all matters thatconcerned his private life. When he bade Marietta accompany him toVenice on that Sunday morning, he was equally anxious that she should beas finely dressed as was becoming for the daughter of a wealthy citizen, and that she should be in ignorance of the object of the trip. She wasnot to know that Jacopo Contarini would be standing beside the secondcolumn on the left, watching her with lazily critical eyes; she wasmerely told that she and her father were to dine in the house of acertain Messer Luigi Foscarini, Procurator of Saint Mark, who was an oldand valued friend, though a near connection of Alvise Trevisan, a rivalglass-maker of Murano. All this had been carefully planned in order thatduring their absence Beroviero's house might be suitably prepared forthe solemn family meeting which was to take place late in the afternoon, and at which her betrothal was to be announced, but of which Mariettaknew nothing. Her father counted upon surprising her and perhapsdazzling her, so as to avoid all discussion and all possibility ofresistance on her part. She should see Contarini in the church, andwhile still under the first impression of his beauty and magnificence, she should be told before her assembled family that she was solemnlybound to marry him in two months' time. 

Beroviero never expected opposition in anything he wished to do, but hehad always heard that young girls could find a thousand reasons for notmarrying the man their parents chose for them, and he believed that hecould make all argument and hesitation impossible. Marietta doubtlessexpected to have a week in which to make up her mind. She should havefive hours, and even that was too much, thought Beroviero. He would havepreferred to march her to the altar without any preliminaries and marryher to Contarini without giving her a chance of seeing him before theceremony. After all, that was the custom of the day. 

The fortunes of love were in his favour, for Marietta had spent threemiserably unhappy days and nights since she had last talked with Zorziin the garden. From that time he had avoided her moat carefully, nevercoming out of the laboratory when she was under the tree with her work, never raising his eyes to look at her when she came in and talked withher father. When she entered the big room, he made a solemn bow andoccupied himself in the farthest corner so long as she remained. Thereis a stage in which even the truest and purest love of boy and maidenfeeds on misunderstandings. In a burst of tears, and ashamed that sheshould be seen crying, Marietta had bidden him go away; in the folly ofhis young heart he took her at her word, and avoided her consistently. He had been hurt by the words, but by a kind of unconscious selfishnesshis pain helped him to do what he believed to be his duty. 

And Marietta forgot that he had picked up the rose dropped by her in thepath, she forgot that she had seen him stand gazing up at her window, with a look that could mean only love, she forgot how tenderly andsoftly he had answered her in the garden; she only remembered that shehad done her utmost, and too much, to make him tell her that he lovedher, and in vain. She could not forgive him that, for even after threedays her cheeks burned fiercely whenever she thought of it. After that, it mattered nothing what became of her, whether she were betrothed, orwhether she were married, or whether she went mad, or even whether shedied--that would be the best of all. 

In this mood Marietta entered the gondola and seated herself by herfather on Sunday morning. She wore an embroidered gown of olive green, alittle open at her dazzling throat, and a silk mantle of a darker tonehung from her shoulders, to protect her from the sun rather than fromthe air. Her russet hair was plaited in a thick flat braid, and broughtround her head like a broad coronet of red gold, and a point lace veil, pinned upon it with stoat gold pins, hang down behind and was broughtforward carelessly upon one shoulder. 

Beside her, Angelo Beroviero was splendid in dark red cloth and purplesilk. He was proud of his daughter, who was betrothed to the heir of agreat Venetian house, he was proud of his own achievements, of hiswealth, of the richly furnished gondola, of his two big young oarsmen inquartered yellow and blue hose and snowy shirts, and of his liveried manin blue and gold, who sat outside the low 'felse' on a little stool, staff in hand, ready to attend upon his master and young mistresswhenever they should please to go on foot. 

Marietta had got into the gondola without so much as glancing across thecanal to see whether Zorzi were standing there to see them push off, ashe often did when she and her father went out together. If he werethere, she meant to show him that she could be more indifferent than he;if he were not, she would show herself that she did not care enough evento look for him. But when the gondola was out of sight of the house shewished she knew whether he had looked out or not. 

Her father had told her that they were going to dine with the ProcuratorFoscarini and his wife. The pair had one daughter, of Marietta's age, and she was a cripple from birth. Marietta was fond of her, and it was arelief to get away from Murano, even for half a day. The visitexplained well enough why her father had desired her to put on her bestgown and most valuable lace. She really had not the slightest idea thatanything more important was on foot. 

Beroviero looked at her in silence as they sped along with the gentlyrocking motion of the gondola, which is not exactly like any othermovement in the world. He had already noticed that she was paler thanusual, but the extraordinary whiteness of her skin made her pallorbecoming to her, and it was set off by the colour of her hair, as ivoryby rough gold. He wondered whether she had guessed whither he was takingher. 

"It is a long time since we were in Saint Mark's together, " he said atlast. 

"It must be more than a year, " answered Marietta. "We pass it often, butwe hardly ever go in. "

"It is early, " observed Beroviero, speaking as indifferently as hecould. "When we left home it lacked an hour and a half of noon by thedial. Shall we go into the church for a while?"

"If you like, " replied Marietta mechanically. 

Nothing made much difference that morning, but she knew that the highmass would be over and that the church would be quiet and cool. It wasnot at that time the cathedral of Venice, though it had always been thechurch in which the doges worshipped in state. 

They landed at the low steps in the Rio del Palazzo, and the servantheld out his bent elbow for Marietta to steady herself, though he knewthat she would not touch it, for she was light and sure-footed as afawn; but Beroviero leaned heavily on his man's arm. They came roundthe Patriarch's palace into the open square, whence the crowd had nearlyall disappeared, dispersing in different directions. Just as they werewithin sight of the great doors of the church, Beroviero saw a very tallman in a purple silk mantle going in alone. It was Contarini, andBeroviero drew a little sigh of relief. The intended bridegroom waspunctual, but Beroviero thought that he might have shown such anxiety tosee his bride as should have brought him to the door a few minutesbefore the time. 

Marietta had drawn her veil across her face, leaving only her eyesuncovered, according to custom. 

"It is hot, " she complained. 

"It will be cool in the church, " answered her father. "Throw your veilback, my dear--there is no one to see you. "

"There is the sun, " she said, for she had been taught that one of aVenetian lady's chief beauties is her complexion. 

"Well, well--there will be no sun in the church. " And the old manhurried her in, without bestowing a glance upon the bronze horses overthe door, to admire which he generally stopped a few moments in passing. 

They entered the great church, and the servant went before them, dippedhis fingers in the basin and offered them holy water. They crossedthemselves, and Marietta bent one knee, looking towards the high altar. A score of people were scattered about, kneeling and standing in thenave. 

Contarini was leaning against the second pillar on the left, and hadbeen watching the door when Marietta and her father entered. Berovierosaw him at once, but led his daughter up the opposite side of the nave, knelt down beside her a moment at the screen, then crossed and came downthe aisle, and at last turned into the nave again by the second pillar, so as to come upon Contarini as it were unawares. This all seemednecessary to him in order that Marietta should receive a very strong andsudden impression, which should leave no doubt in her mind. Contarinihimself was too thoroughly Venetian not to understand what Beroviero wasdoing, and when the two came upon him, he was drawn up to his fullheight, one gloved hand holding his cap and resting on his hip; theother, gloveless, and white as a woman's, was twisting his silkymustache. Beroviero had manoeuvred so cleverly that Marietta almostjostled the young patrician as she turned the pillar. 

Contarini drew back with quick grace and a slight inclination of hisbody, and then pretended the utmost surprise on seeing his valued friendMesser Angelo Beroviero. 

"My most dear sir!" he exclaimed. "This is indeed good fortune!"

"Mine, Messer Jacopo!" returned Beroviero with equally well-feignedastonishment. 

Marietta had looked Contarini full in the face before she had time todraw her veil across her own. She stepped back and placed herself behindher father, protected as it were by their serving-man, who stood besideher with his staff. She understood instantly that the magnificentpatrician was the man of whom her father had spoken as her futurehusband. Seen, as she had seen him, in the glowing church, in the mostsplendid surroundings that could be imagined, he was certainly a man atwhom any woman would look twice, even out of curiosity, and through herveil Marietta looked again, till she saw his soft brown eyesscrutinising her appearance; then she turned quickly away, for she hadlooked long enough. She saw that a woman in black was kneeling by thenext pillar, watching her intently with a sort of cold stare that almostmade her shudder. Yet the woman was exceedingly beautiful. It was easyto see that, though the dark veil hid half her face and its foldsconcealed most of her figure. The mysterious, almond-shaped eyes werethose of another race, the marble cheek was more perfectly modelled andturned than an Italian's, the curling golden hair was more glorious thanany Venetian's. Arisa had come to see her master's bride, and he knewthat she was there looking on. Why should he care? It was a bargain, andhe was not going to give up Arisa and the house of the Agnus Dei becausehe meant to marry the rich glass-blower's daughter. 

Marietta imagined no connection between the woman and the man, who thusinsolently came to the same place to look at her, pretending not to knowone another; and when she looked back at Contarini she felt a miserablelittle thrill of vanity as she noticed that he was looking fixedly ather, and that his eyes did not wander to the face of that other woman, who was so much more beautiful than herself. Perhaps, after all, hewould really prefer her to that matchless creature close beside her!Nothing mattered, of course, since Zorzi did not love her, but after allit was flattering to be admired by Jacopo Contarini, who could choosehis wife where he pleased, through the whole world. 

It all happened in a few seconds. The two men exchanged a few words, towhich she paid no attention, and took leave of each other with greatceremony and much bowing on both sides. When her father turned at last, Marietta was already walking towards the door, the servant by her leftside. Beroviero had scarcely joined her when she started a little, andlaid her hand upon his arm. 

"The Greek merchant!" she whispered. 

Beroviero looked where she was looking. By the first pillar, gazingintently at Arisa's kneeling figure, stood Aristarchi, his hands foldedover his broad chest, his shaggy head bent forward, his sturdy legs alittle apart. He, too, had come to see the promised bride, and to be awitness of the bargain whereby he also was to be enriched. 

As Marietta came out of the church, she covered her face closely anddrew her silk mantle quite round her, bending her head a little. Theservant walked a few paces in front. 

"You have seen your future husband, my child, " said Beroviero. 

"I suppose that the young noble was Messer Jacopo Contarini, " answeredMarietta coldly. 

"You are hard to please, if you are not satisfied with my choice foryou, " observed her father. 

To this Marietta said nothing. She only bent her head a little lower, looking down as she trod delicately over the hot and dusty ground. 

"And you are a most ungrateful daughter, " continued Beroviero, "if youdo not appreciate my kindness and liberality of mind in allowing you tosee him before you are formally betrothed. "

"Perhaps he is even more pleased by your liberality of mind than I couldpossibly be, " retorted the young girl with unbending coldness. "He hasprobably not seen many Venetian girls of our class face to face andunveiled. He is to be congratulated on his good fortune!"

"By my faith!" exclaimed Beroviero, "it is hard to satisfy you!"

"I have asked nothing. "

"Do you mean to say that you have any objections to allege against sucha marriage?"

"Have I said that I should oppose it? One may obey without enthusiasm. "She laughed coldly. 

"Like the unprofitable servant! I had expected something more of you, mychild. I have been at infinite pains and I am making great sacrifices toprocure you a suitable husband, and there are scores of noble girls inVenice who would give ten years of their lives to marry JacopoContarini! And you say that you obey my commands without enthusiasm!You are an ungrateful--"

"No, I am not!" interrupted Marietta firmly. "I would rather not marryat all--"

"Not marry!" repeated Beroviero, interrupting her in a tone of profoundstupefaction, and standing still in the sun as he spoke. "Why--what isthe matter?"

"Is it so strange that I should be contented with my girl's life?" askedMarietta. "Should I not be ungrateful indeed, if I wished to leave youand become the wife of a man I have just seen for the first time?"

"You use most extraordinary arguments, my dear, " replied Beroviero, quite at a loss for a suitable retort. "Of course, I have done my bestto make you happy. "

He paused, for she had placed him in the awkward position of being angrybecause she did not wish to leave him. 

"I really do not know what to say, " he added, after a moment'sreflection. 

"Perhaps there is nothing to be said, " answered Marietta, in a tone ofirritating superiority, for she certainly had the best of thediscussion. 

They had reached the gondola by this time, and as the servant sat withinhearing at the open door of the 'felse, ' they could not continue talkingabout such a matter. Beroviero was glad of it, for he regarded theaffair as settled, and considered that it should be hastened to itsconclusion without any further reasoning about it. If he had sent wordto young Contarini that the answer should be given him in a week, thatwas merely an imaginary formality invented to cover his own dignity, since he had so far derogated from it as to allow the young man to seeMarietta. In reality the marriage had been determined and settledbetween Beroviero and Contarini's father before anything had been saidto either of the young people. The meeting in the church might have beendispensed with, if the patrician had been able to answer with certaintyfor his wild son's conduct. Jacopo had demanded it, and his father wasso anxious for the marriage that he had communicated the request toBeroviero. The latter, always for his dignity's sake, had pretended torefuse, and had then secretly arranged the matter for Jacopo, as hasbeen seen, without old Contarini's knowledge. 

Marietta leaned back under the cool, dark 'felse, ' and her hands layidly in her lap. She felt that she was helpless, because she wasindifferent, and that she could even now have changed the course of herdestiny if she had cared to make the effort. There was no reason formaking any. She did not believe that she had really loved Zorzi afterall, and if she had, it seemed to-day quite impossible that she shouldever have married him. He was nothing but a waif, a half-namelessservant, a stranger predestined to a poor and obscure life. As sheinwardly repeated some of these considerations, she felt a little thrustof remorse for trying to look down on him as impossibly far below herown station, and a small voice told her that he was an artist, and thatif he had chanced to be born in Venice he would have been as good as herbrothers. 

The future stretched out before her in a sort of dull magnificence thatdid not in the least appeal to her simple nature. She could not tell whyshe had despised Jacopo Contarini from the moment she looked into hisbeautiful eyes. Happily women are not expected to explain why theysometimes judge rightly at first sight, when a wise man is absurdlydeceived. Marietta did not understand Jacopo, and she easily fanciedthat because her own character was the stronger she should rule him aseasily as she managed Nella. It did not occur to her that he was alreadyunder the domination of another woman, who might prove to be quite asstrong as she. What she saw was the weakness in his eyes and mouth. Withsuch a man, she thought, there was little to fear; but there was nothingto love. If she asked, he would give, if she opposed him, he wouldsurrender, if she lost her temper and commanded, he would obey withpetulant docility. She should be obliged to take refuge in vanity inorder to get any satisfaction out of her life, and she was not naturallyvain. The luxuries of those days were familiar to her from herchildhood. Though she had not lived in a palace, she had been brought upin a house that was not unlike one, she ate off silver plates and drankfrom glasses that were masterpieces of her father's art, she had coffersfull of silks and satins, and fine linen embroidered with gold thread, there was always gold and silver in her little wallet-purse when shewanted anything or wished to give to the poor, she was waited on by amaid of her own like any fine lady of Venice, and there were a score ofidle servants in a house where there were only two masters--there wasnothing which Contarini could give her that would be more than a littleuseless exaggeration of what she had already. She had no particulardesire to show herself unveiled to the world, as married women did, andshe was not especially attracted by the idea of becoming one of them. She had been brought up alone, she had acquired tastes which other womenhad not, and which would no longer be satisfied in her married life, sheloved the glass-house, she delighted in taking a blow-pipe herself andmaking small objects which she decorated as she pleased, she felt alively interest in her father's experiments, she enjoyed the atmosphereof his wisdom though it was occasionally disturbed by the foolish littlestorms of his hot temper. And until now, she had liked to be often withZorzi. 

That was past, of course, but the rest remained, and it was much tosacrifice for the sake of becoming a Contarini, and living on the GrandCanal with a man she should always despise. 

It was clearly not the idea of marriage that surprised or repelled her, not even of a marriage with a man she did not know and had seen butonce. Girls were brought up to regard marriage as the greatest thing inlife, as the natural goal to which all their girlhood should tend, andat the same time they were taught from childhood that it was all to bearranged for them, and that they would in due course grow fond of theman their parents chose for them. Until Marietta had begun to loveZorzi, she had accepted all these things quite naturally, as a part ofevery woman's life, and it would have seemed as absurd, and perhaps asimpossible, to rebel against them as to repudiate the religion in whichshe had been born. Such beliefs turn into prejudices, and assertthemselves as soon as whatever momentarily retards them is removed. Bythe time the gondola drew alongside of the steps of the Foscarinipalace, Marietta was convinced that there was nothing for her but tosubmit to her fate. 

"Then I am to be married in two months?" she said, in a tone ofinterrogation, and regardless of the servant. 

Beroviero bent his head in answer and smiled kindly; for after all, hewas grateful to her for accepting his decision so quietly. But Mariettawas very pale after she had spoken, for the audible words somehow madeit all seem dreadfully real, and out of the shadows of the greatentrance hall that opened upon the canal she could fancy Zorzi's facelooking at her sadly and reproachfully. The bargain was made, and thewoman he loved was sold for life. For one moment, instinctive womanhoodfelt the accursed humiliation, and the flushing blood rose in the girl'scool cheeks. 

She would have blushed deeper had she guessed who had been witnesses ofher first meeting with Contarini, and old Beroviero's temper would havebroken out furiously if he could have imagined that the Greek pirate whohad somehow miraculously escaped the hangman in Naples had beencontemplating with satisfaction the progress of the marriagenegotiations, sure that he himself should before long be enjoying thebetter part of Marietta's rich dowry. If the old man could have hadvision of Jacopo's life, and could have suddenly known what thebeautiful woman in black was to the patrician, Contarini's chance ofgoing home alive that day would have been small indeed, for Berovieromight have strangled him where he stood, and perhaps Aristarchi wouldhave discreetly turned his back while he was doing it. For a few minutesthey had all been very near together, the deceivers and the deceived, and it was not likely that they should ever all be so near again. 

Contarini had never seen the Greek, and Arisa was not aware that he wasin the church. When Beroviero and Marietta were gone, Jacopo turned hisback on the slave for a moment as if he meant to walk further up thechurch. Aristarchi watched them both, for in spite of all he did notquite trust the Georgian woman, and he had never seen her alone withJacopo when she was unaware of his own presence. Yet he was afraid to gonearer, now, lest Arisa should accidentally see him and betray by hermanner that she knew him. 

Jacopo turned suddenly, when he judged that he could leave the churchwithout overtaking Beroviero, and he walked quietly down the nave. Hepassed close to Arisa, and Aristarchi guessed that their eyes met for amoment. He almost fancied that Contarini's lips moved, and he was surethat he smiled. But that was all, and Arisa remained on her knees, noteven turning her head a little as her lover went by. 

"Not so ugly after all, " Contarini had said, under his breath, and thecareless smile went with the words. 

Arisa's lip curled contemptuously as she heard. She had drawn back herveil, her face was raised, as if she were sending up a prayer to heaven, and the light fell full upon the magnificent whiteness of her throat, that showed in strong relief against the black velvet and lace. Sheneeded no other answer to what he said, but in the scorn of her curvingmouth, which seemed all meant for Marietta, there was contempt for him, too, that would have cut him to the quick of his vanity. 

Aristarchi walked deliberately by the pillar to the aisle, as he passed, and listened for the flapping of the heavy leathern curtain at the door. Then he stole nearer to the place where Arisa was still kneeling, andcame noiselessly behind her and leaned against the column, and watchedher, not caring if he surprised her now. 

But she did not turn round. Listening intently, Aristarchi heard a softquick whispering, and he saw that it was punctuated by a very slightoccasional movement of her head. 

He had not believed her when she had told him that she said her prayersat night, but she was undoubtedly praying now, and Aristarchi watchedher with interest, as he might have looked at some rare foreign animalwhose habits he did not understand. She was very intently bent on whatshe was saying, for he stayed there some time, scarcely breathing, before he turned away and disappeared in the shadows with noiselesssteps. 

CHAPTER VIII

All through the long Sunday afternoon Zorzi sat in the laboratory alone. From time to time, he tended the fire, which must not be allowed to godown lest the quality of the glass should be injured, or at leastchanged. Then he went back to the master's great chair, and allowedhimself to think of what was happening in the house opposite. 

In those days there was no formal betrothal before marriage, at whichthe intended bride and bridegroom joined hands or exchanged the ringswhich were to be again exchanged at the wedding. When a marriage hadbeen arranged, the parents or guardians of the young couple signed thecontract before a notary, a strictly commercial and legal formality, andthe two families then announced the match to their respective relativeswho were invited for the purpose, and were hospitably entertained. Theannouncement was final, and to break off a marriage after it had beenannounced was a deadly offence and was generally an irreparable injuryto the bride. 

In Beroviero's house the richest carpets were taken from the storeroomsand spread upon the pavement and the stairs, tapestries of great worthand beauty were hung upon the walls, the servants were arrayed in theirhigh-day liveries and spoke in whispers when they spoke at all, thesilver dishes were piled with sweetmeats and early fruits, and thesilver plates had been not only scoured, but had been polished withleather, which was not done every day. In all the rooms that wereopened, silken curtains had been hung before the windows, in place ofthose used at other times. In a word, the house had been prepared in afew hours for a great family festivity, and when Marietta got out of thegondola, she set her foot upon a thick carpet that covered the steps andwas even allowed to hang down and dip itself in the water of the canalby way of showing what little value was set upon it by the rich man. 

Zorzi had known that the preparations were going forward, and he knewwhat they meant. He would rather see nothing of them, and when theguests were gone, old Beroviero would come over and give him some finalinstructions before beginning his journey; until then he could be alonein the laboratory, where only the low roar of the fire in the furnacebroke the silence. 

Marietta's head was aching and she felt as if the hard, hot fingers ofsome evil demon were pressing her eyeballs down into their sockets. Shesat in an inner chamber, to which only women were admitted. There shesat, in a sort of state, a circlet of gold set upon her loosened hair, her dress all of embroidered white silk, her shoulders covered with awide mantle of green and gold brocade that fell in heavy folds to thefloor. She wore many jewels, too, such as she would not have worn inpublic before her marriage. They had belonged to her mother, like themantle, and were now brought out for the first time. It was very hot, but the windows were shut lest the sound of the good ladies' voicesshould be heard without; for the news that Marietta was to be marriedhad suddenly gone abroad through Murano, and all the idlers, and the menfrom the furnaces, where no work was done on Sunday, as well as all thepoor, were assembled on the footway and the bridge, and in the narrowalleys round the house. They all pushed and jostled each other to seeBeroviero's friends and relations, as they emerged from beneath theblack 'felse' of their gondolas to enter the house. In the hall theguests divided, and the men gathered in a large lower chamber, while thewomen went upstairs to offer their congratulations to Marietta, withmany set compliments upon her beauty, her clothes and her jewels, andeven with occasional flattering allusions to the vast dowry her husbandwas to receive with her. 

She listened wearily, and her head ached more and more, so that shelonged for the coolness of her own room and for Nella's soothingchatter, to which she was so much accustomed that she missed it if thelittle brown woman chanced to be silent. 

The sun went down and wax candles were brought, instead of the tall oillamps that were used on ordinary days. It grew hotter and hotter, thecompliments of the ladies seemed more and more dull and stale, hermantle was heavy and even the gold circlet on her hair was a burden. Worse than all, she knew that every minute was carrying her further andfurther into the dominion of the irrevocable whence she could neverreturn. 

She had looked at the palaces she had passed in Venice that morning, some in shadow, some in sunlight, some with gay faces and some grave, but all so different from the big old house in Murano, that she did notwish to live in them at all. It would have been much easier to submit ifshe had been betrothed to a foreigner, a Roman, or a Florentine. She hadbeen told that Romans were all wicked and gloomy, and that Florentineswere all wicked and gay. That was what Nella had heard. But in a sensethey were free, for they probably did what was good in their own eyes, as wicked people often do. Life in Venice was to be lived by rule, andeverything that tasted of freedom was repressed by law. If it pleasedwomen to wear long trains the Council forbade them; if they took refugein long sleeves, thrown back over their shoulders, a law was passedwhich set a measure and a pattern for all sleeves that might ever beworn. If a few rich men indulged their fancy in the decoration of theirgondolas, now that riding was out of fashion, the Council immediatelydetermined that gondolas should be black and that they should only begilt and adorned inside. As for freedom, if any one talked of it he wasimmediately tortured until he retracted all his errors, and was thenpromptly beheaded for fear that he should fall again into the samemistake. Nella said so, and told hideous tales of the things that hadbeen done to innocent men in the little room behind the Council chamberin the Palace. Besides, if one talked of justice, there was Zorzi's caseto prove that there was no justice at all in Venetian law. Mariettasuddenly wished that she were wicked, like the Romans and theFlorentines; and even when she reflected that it was a sin to wish thatone were bad, she was not properly repentant, because she had a veryvague notion of what wickedness really was. Righteousness seemed justnow to consist in being smothered in heavy clothes, in a horribly hotroom, while respectable women of all ages, fat, thin, fair, red-haired, dark, ugly and handsome, all chattered at her and overwhelmed her withnauseous flattery. 

She thought of that morning in the garden, three days ago, whensomething she did not understand had been so near, just beforedisappearing for ever. Then her throat tightened and she sawindistinctly, and her lips were suddenly dry. After that, she rememberedlittle of what happened on that evening, and by and by she was alone inher own room without a light, standing at the open window with bare feeton the cold pavement, and the night breeze stirred her hair and broughther the scent of the rosemary and lavender, while she tried to listen tothe stars, as if they were speaking to her, and lost herself in herthoughts for a few moments before going to sleep. 

Zorzi was still sitting in the big chair against the wall when he hearda footstep in the garden, and as he rose to look out Beroviero entered. The master was wrapped in a long cloak that covered something which hewas carrying. There was no lamp in the laboratory, but the three fierceeyes of the furnace shed a low red glare in different directions. Beroviero had given orders that the night boys should not come until hesent for them. 

"I thought it wiser to bring this over at night, " he said, setting asmall iron box on the table. 

It contained the secrets of Paolo Godi, which were worth a great fortunein those times. 

"Of all my possessions, " said the old man, laying his hands upon thecasket, "these are the most valuable. I will not hide them alone, as Imight, because if any harm befell me they would be lost, and might befound by some unworthy person. "

"Could you not leave them with some one else, sir?" asked Zorzi. 

"No. I trust no one else. Let us hide them together to-night, forto-morrow I must leave Venice. Take up one of the large flagstonesbehind the annealing oven, and dig a hole underneath it in the ground. The place will be quite dry, from the heat of the oven. "

Zorzi lit a lamp with a splinter of wood which he thrust into the'bocca' of the furnace; he took a small crowbar from the corner and setto work. The laboratory contained all sorts of builder's tools, usedwhen the furnace needed repairing. He raised one of the slabs withdifficulty, turned it over, propped it with a billet of beech wood, andbegan to scoop out a hole in the hard earth, using a mason's trowel. Beroviero watched him, holding the box in his hands. 

"The lock is not very good, " he said, "but I thought the box might keepthe packet from dampness. "

"Is the packet properly sealed?" asked Zorzi, looking up. 

"You shall see, " answered the master, and he set down the box beside thelamp, on the broad stone at the mouth of the annealing oven. "It isbetter that you should see for yourself. "

He unlocked the box and took out what seemed to be a small book, carefully tied up in a sheet of parchment. The ends of the silk cordbelow the knot were pinched in a broad red seal. Zorzi examined the wax. 

"You sealed it with a glass seal, " he observed. "It would not be hard tomake another. "

"Do you think it would be so easy?" asked Beroviero, who had made theseal himself many years ago. 

Zorzi held the impression nearer to the lamp and scrutinised it closely. 

"No one will have a chance to try, " he said, with a slight gesture ofindifference. "It might not be so easy. "

The old man looked at him a moment, as if hesitating, and then put thepacket back into the box and locked the latter with the key that hungfrom his neck by a small silver chain. 

"I trust you, " he said, and he gave the box to Zorzi, to be deposited inthe hole. 

Zorzi stood up, and taking a little tow from the supply used forcleaning the blow-pipes, he dipped it into the oil of the lamp andproceeded to grease the box carefully before hiding it. 

"It would rust, " he explained. 

He laid the box in the hole and covered it with earth before placing thestone over it. 

"Be careful to make the stone lie quite flat, " said Angelo, bending downand gathering his gown off the floor in a bunch at his knees. "If itdoes not lie flat, the stone will move when the boys tread on it, andthey may think of taking it up. "

"It is very heavy, " answered the young man. "It was as much as I coulddo to heave it up. You need not be afraid of the boys. "

"It is not a very safe place, I fear, after all, " returned Berovierodoubtfully. "Be sure to leave no marks of the crowbar, and no looseearth near it. "

The heavy slab slipped into its bed with a soft thud. Zorzi took thelamp and examined the edges. One of them was a little chipped by thecrowbar, and he rubbed it with the greasy tow and scattered dust overit. Then he got a cypress broom and swept the earth carefully away intoa heap. Beroviero himself brought the shovel and held it close to thestones while Zorzi pushed the loose earth upon it. 

"Carry it out and scatter it in the garden, " said the old man. 

It was the first time that he had allowed his affection for Zorzi toexpress itself so strongly, for he was generally a very cautious person. He took the young man's hand and held it a moment, pressing it kindly. 

"It was not I who made the law against strangers, and it was not meantfor men like you, " he added. 

Zorzi knew how much this meant from such a master and he would havefound words for thanks, had he been able; but when he tried, they wouldnot come. 

"You may trust me, " was all he could say. 

Beroviero left him, and went down the dark corridor with the firm stepof a man who knows his way without light. 

In the morning, when he left the house to begin his journey, Zorzi stoodby the steps with the servant to steady the gondola for him. His horseswere to be in waiting in Venice, whence he was to go over to themainland. He nodded to the young man carelessly, but said nothing, andno one would have guessed how kindly he had spoken to him on theprevious night. Giovanni Beroviero took ceremonious leave of his father, his cap in his hand, bending low, a lean man, twenty years older thanMarietta, with an insignificant brow and clean-shaven, pointed jaw andgreedy lips. Marietta stood within the shadow of the doorway, very pale. Nella was beside her, and Giovanni's wife, and further in, at arespectful distance, the serving-people, for the master's departure wasan event of importance. 

The gondola pushed off when Beroviero had disappeared under the 'felse'with a final wave of the hand. Zorzi stood still, looking after hismaster, and Marietta came forward to the doorstep and pretended to watchthe gondola also. Zorzi was the first to turn, and their eyes met. Hehad not expected to see her still there, and he started a little. Giovanni looked at him coldly. 

"You had better go to your work, " he said in a sour tone. "I suppose myfather has told you what to do. "

The young artist flushed, but answered quietly enough. 

"I am going to my work, " he said. "I need no urging. "

Before he put on his cap, he bent his head to Marietta; then he passedon towards the bridge. 

"That fellow is growing insolent, " said Giovanni to his sister, but hewas careful that Zorzi should not hear the words. "I think I shalladvise our father to turn him out. "

Marietta looked at her brother with something like contempt. 

"Since when has our father consulted you, or taken your advice?" sheasked. 

"I presume he takes yours, " retorted Giovanni, regretting that he couldnot instantly find a sharper answer, for he was not quick-witted thoughhe was suspicious. 

"He needs neither yours nor mine, " said Marietta, "and he trusts whom hepleases. "

"You seem inclined to defend his servants when they are insolent, "answered Giovanni. 

"For that matter, Zorzi is quite able to defend himself!" She turned herback on her brother and went towards the stairs, taking Nella with her. 

Giovanni glanced at her with annoyance and walked along the footway inthe direction of his own glass-house, glad to go back to a place wherehe was absolute despot. But he had been really surprised that Mariettashould boldly take the Dalmatian's side against him, and his narrowbrain brooded upon the unexpected circumstance. Besides the dislike hefelt for the young artist, his small pride resented the thought that hissister, who was to marry a Contarini, should condescend to the defenceof a servant. 

Zorzi went his way calmly and spent the day in the laboratory. He was ina frame of mind in which such speeches as Giovanni's could make butlittle impression upon him, sensitive though he naturally was. Reallygreat sorrows, or great joys or great emotions, make smaller ones almostimpossible for the time. Men of vast ambition, whose deeds are alreadymoving the world and making history, are sometimes as easily annoyed bytrifles as a nervous woman; but he who knows that what is dearest to himis slipping from his hold, or has just been taken, is half paralysed inhis sense of outward things. His own mind alone has power to give him amomentary relief. 

Herein lies one of the strongest problems of human nature. We say withassurance that the mind rules the body, we feel that the spirit in someway overshadows and includes the mind. Yet if this were really true thespirit--that is, the will--should have power against bodily pain, butnot against moral suffering except with some help from a higher source. But it is otherwise. If the will of ordinary human beings couldhypnotise the body against material sensation, the credit due to thosebrave believers in all ages who have suffered cruel torments for theirfaith would be singularly diminished. If the mind could dominate matterby ordinary concentration of thought, a bad toothache should have noeffect upon the delicate imagination of the poet, and Napoleon would nothave lost the decisive battle of his life by a fit of indigestion, ashas been asserted. 

On the other hand, there was never yet a man of genius, or even of greattalent, who was not aware that the most acute moral anguish can bemomentarily forgotten, as if it did not exist for the time, byconcentrating the mind upon its accustomed and favourite kind of work. Johnson wrote _Rasselas_ to pay for the funeral of his yet unburiedmother, and Johnson was a man of heart if ever one lived; he could nothave written the book if he had had a headache. Saints and asceticswithout end and of many persuasions have resorted to bodily pain as ameans of deadening the imagination and exalting the will or spirit. Somegreat thinkers have been invalids, but in every case their food, workhas been done when they were temporarily free from pain. Perhaps thetruth is on the side of those mystics who say that although the mind isof a higher nature than matter, it is so closely involved with it thatneither can get away from the other, and that both together tend to shutout the spirit and to forget its existence, which is a perpetualreproach to them; and any ordinary intellectual effort being produced bythe joint activity of mind and the matter through which the mind acts, the condition of the spirit at the time has little or no effect uponthem, nor upon what they are doing. And if one would carry the littletheory further, one might find that the greatest works of genius havebeen produced when the effort of mind and matter has taken place underthe inspiration of the spirit, so that all three were momentarilyinvolved together. But such thoughts lead far, and it may be that theyprofit little. The best which a man means to do is generally better thanthe best he does, and it is perhaps the best he is capable of doing. 

Be these things as they may, Zorzi worked hard in the laboratory, minutely carrying out the instructions he had received, but reasoningupon them with a freshness and keenness of thought of which his masterwas no longer capable. When he had made the trials and had added the newingredients for future ones, he began to think out methods of his ownwhich had suggested themselves to him of late, but which he had neverbeen able to try. But though he had the furnace to himself, to use aslong as he could endure the heat of the advancing summer, he was faceto face with a difficulty that seemed insuperable. 

The furnace had but three crucibles, each of which contained one of themixtures by means of which he and Beroviero were trying to produce thefamous red glass. In order to begin to make glass in his own way, it wasnecessary that one of the three should be emptied, but unless hedisobeyed his orders this was out of the question. In his train ofthought and longing to try what he felt sure must succeed, he hadforgotten the obstacle. The check brought him back to himself, and hewalked disconsolately up and down the long room by the side of thefurnace. 

Everything was against him, said the melancholy little demon thattorments genius on dark days. It was not enough that he should be forcedby every consideration of honour and wisdom to hide his love for hismaster's daughter; when he took refuge in his art and tried to throw hiswhole life into it, he was stopped at the outset by the most impassablebarriers of impossibility. The furious desire to create, which is thestrength as well as the essence of genius, surged up and dashed itselfto futile spray upon the face of the solid rock. 

He stood still before the hanging shelves on which he had placed theobjects he had occasionally made, and which his master allowed him tokeep there--light, air-thin vessels of graceful shapes: an ampulla ofexquisite outline with a long curved spout that bent upwards and thenoutwards and over like the stalk of a lily of the valley; a largedrinking-glass set on a stem so slender that one would doubt itsstrength to carry the weight of a full measure, yet so strong that thecup might have been filled with lead without breaking it; a broad dishthat was nothing but a shadow against the light, but in the shadow was afair design of flowers, drawn free with a diamond point; there were adozen of such things on the shelves, not the best that Zorzi had made, for those Beroviero took to his own house and used on great occasions, while these were the results of experiments unheard of in those days, and which not long afterwards made a school. 

In his present frame of mind Zorzi felt a foolish impulse to take themdown and smash them one by one in the big jar into which the failureswere thrown, to be melted again in the main furnace, for in aglass-house nothing is thrown away. He knew it was foolish, and he heldhis hands behind him as he looked at the things, wishing that he hadnever made them, that he had never learned the art he was forbidden bylaw to practise, that he had never left Dalmatia as a little boy longago, that he had never been born. 

The door opened suddenly and Giovanni entered. Zorzi turned and lookedat him in silence. He was surprised, but he supposed that the master'sson had a right to come if he chose, though he never showed himself inthe glass-house when his father was in Murano. 

"Are you alone here?" asked Giovanni, looking about him. "Do none of theworkmen come here?"

"The master has left me in charge of his work, " answered Zorzi. "I needno help. "

Giovanni seated himself in his father's chair and looked at the tablebefore the window. 

"It is not very hard work, I fancy, " he observed, crossing one leg overthe other and pulling up his black hose to make it fit his lean calfbetter. 

Zorzi suspected at once that he had come in search of information, andpaused before answering. 

"The work needs careful attention, " he said at last. 

"Most glass-work does, " observed Giovanni, with a harsh little laugh. "Are you very attentive, then? Do you remember to do all that my fathertold you?"

"The master only left this morning. So far, I have obeyed his orders. "

"I do not understand how a man who is not a glass-blower can know enoughto be left alone in charge of a furnace, " said Giovanni, looking atZorzi's profile. 

This time Zorzi was silent. He did not think it necessary to tell howmuch he knew. 

"I suppose my father knows what he is about, " continued Giovanni, in atone of disapproval. 

Zorzi thought so too, and no reply seemed necessary. He stood still, looking out of the window, and wishing that his visitor would go away. But Giovanni had no such intention. 

"What are you making?" he asked presently. 

"A certain kind of glass, " Zorzi answered. 

"A new colour?"

"A certain colour. That is all I can tell you. "

"You can tell me what colour it is, " said Giovanni. "Why are you sosecret? Even if my father had ordered you to be silent with me about hiswork, which I do not believe, you would not be betraying anything bytelling me that. What colour is he trying to make?"

"I am to say nothing about it, not even to you. I obey my orders. "

Giovanni was a glass-maker himself. He rose with an air of annoyance andcrossed the laboratory to the jar in which the broken glass was kept, took out a piece and held it up against the light. Zorzi had made amovement as if to hinder him, but he realised at once that he could notlay hands on his master's son. Giovanni laughed contemptuously and threwthe fragment back into the jar. 

"Is that all? I can do better than that myself!" he said, and he satdown again in the big chair. 

His eyes fell on the shelves upon which Zorzi's specimens of work werearranged. He looked at them with interest, at once understanding theircommercial value. 

"My father can make good things when he is not wasting time overdiscoveries, " he remarked, and rising again he went nearer and began toexamine the little objects. 

Zorzi said nothing, and after looking at them a long time Giovanniturned away and stood before the furnace. The copper ladle with whichthe specimens were taken from the pots lay on the brick ledge near oneof the 'boccas. ' Giovanni took it, looked round to see where the ironplate for testing was placed, and thrust the ladle into the aperture, holding it lightly lest the heat should hurt his hand. 

"You shall not do that!" cried Zorzi, who was already beside him. 

Before Giovanni knew what was happening Zorzi had struck the ladle fromhis hand, and it disappeared through the 'bocca' into the white-hotglass within. 

CHAPTER IX

With an oath Giovanni raised his hand to strike Zorzi in the face, butthe quick Dalmatian snatched up his heavy blow-pipe in both hands andstood in an attitude of defence. 

"If you try to strike me, I shall defend myself, " he said quietly. 

Giovanni's sour face turned grey with fright, and then as his impotentanger rose, the grey took an almost greenish hue that was bad to see. Hesmiled in a sickly fashion. Zorzi set the blow-pipe upright against thefurnace and watched him, for he saw that the man was afraid of him andmight act treacherously. 

"You need not be so violent, " said Giovanni, and his voice trembled alittle, as he recovered himself. "After all, my father would not havemade any objection to my trying the glass. If I had, I could not haveguessed how it was made. "

Zorzi did not answer, for he had discovered that silence was his bestweapon. Giovanni continued, in the peevish tone of a man who has beenbadly frightened and is ashamed of it. 

"It only shows how ignorant you are of glass-making, if you suppose thatmy father would care. " As he still got no reply beyond a shrug of theshoulders, he changed the subject. "Did you see my father make any ofthose things?" he asked, pointing to the shelves. 

"No, " answered Zorzi. 

"But he made them all here, did he not?" insisted Giovanni. "And you arealways with him. "

"He did not make any of them. "

Giovanni opened his eyes in astonishment. In his estimation there was noman living, except his father, who could have done such work. Zorzismiled, for he knew what the other's astonishment meant. 

"I made them all, " he said, unable to resist the temptation to take thecredit that was justly his. 

"You made those things?" repeated Giovanni incredulously. 

But Zorzi was not in the least offended by his disbelief. The moresceptical Giovanni was, the greater the honour in having producedanything so rarely beautiful. 

"I made those, and many others which the master keeps in his house, " hesaid. 

Giovanni would have liked to give him the lie, but he dared not justthen. 

"If you made them, you could make something of the kind again, " he said. "I should like to see that. Take your blow-pipe and try. Then I shallbelieve you. "

"There is no white glass in the furnace, " answered Zorzi. "If therewere, I would show you what I can do. "

Giovanni laughed sourly. 

"I thought you would find some good excuse, " he said. 

"The master saw me do the work, " answered Zorzi unconcernedly. "Ask himabout it when he comes back. "

"There are other furnaces in the glass-house, " suggested Giovanni. "Whynot bring your blow-pipe with you and show the workmen as well as mewhat you can do?"

Zorzi hesitated. It suddenly occurred to him that this might be adecisive moment in his life, in which the future would depend on thedecision he made. In all the years since he had been with Beroviero hehad never worked at one of the great furnaces among the other men. 

"I daresay your sense of responsibility is so great that you do not liketo leave the laboratory, even for half an hour, " said Giovanniscornfully. "But you have to go home at night. "

"I sleep here, " answered Zorzi. 

"Indeed?" Giovanni was surprised. "I see that your objections areinsuperable, " he added with a laugh. 

Zorzi was in one of those moods in which a man feels that he has nothingto lose. There might, however, be something to gain by exhibiting hisskill before Giovanni and the men. His reputation as a glass-maker wouldbe made in half an hour. 

"Since you do not believe me, come, " he said at last. "You shall see foryourself. "

He took his blow-pipe and thrust it through one of the 'boccas' to meltoff the little red glass that adhered to it. Then he cooled it in water, and carefully removed the small particles that stuck to the iron hereand there like spots of glazing. 

"I am ready, " he said, when he had finished. 

Giovanni rose and led the way, without a word. Zorzi followed him, shutthe door, turned the key twice and thrust it into the bosom of hisdoublet. Giovanni turned and watched him. 

"You are really very cautions, " he said. "Do you always lock the doorwhen you go out?"

"Always, " answered Zorzi, shouldering his blow-pipe. 

They crossed the little garden and entered the passage that led to themain furnace rooms. In the first they entered, eight or ten men andyouths, masters and apprentices, were at work. The place was higher andfar more spacious than the laboratory, the furnace was broader andtaller and had four mouths instead of three. The sunlight streamedthrough a window high above the floor and fell upon the arched back ofthe annealing oven, the window being so placed that the sun could nevershine upon the working end and dazzle the workmen. 

When Giovanni and Zorzi entered, the men were working in silence. Thelow and steady roar of the flames was varied by the occasional sharpclick of iron or the soft sound of hot glass rolling on the marver, orby the hiss of a metal instrument plunged into water to cool it. Everyman had an apprentice to help him, and two boys tended the fire. Theforeman sat at a table, busy with an account, a small man, even palerthan the others and dressed in shabby brown hose and a loose brown coat. The workmen wore only hose and shirts. 

Without desisting from their occupations they cast surprised glances atGiovanni and his companion, whom they all hated as a favoured person. One of them was finishing a drinking-glass, rolling the pontil on thearms of the working-stool; another, a beetle-browed fellow, swung hislong blow-pipe with its lump of glowing glass in a full circle, high inair and almost to touch the ground; another was at a 'bocca' in the lowglare; all were busy, and the air was very hot and close. The men lookedgrim and ill-tempered. 

Giovanni explained the object of his coming in a way intended toconciliate them to himself at Zorzi's expense. Their presence gave himcourage. 

"This is Zorzi, the man without a name, " he said, "who is come fromDalmatia to give us a lesson in glass-blowing. "

One of the men laughed, and the apprentices tittered. The others lookedas if they did not understand. Zorzi had known well enough what humourhe should find among them, but he would not let the taunt go unanswered. 

"Sirs, " he said, for they all claimed the nobility of the glass-blowers'caste, "I come not to teach you, but to prove to the master's son that Ican make some trifle in the manner of your art. "

No one spoke. The workmen in the elder Beroviero's house knew wellenough that Zorzi was a better artist than they, and they had no mind tolet him outdo them at their own furnace. 

"Will any one of you gentlemen allow me to use his place?" asked Zorzicivilly. 

Not a man answered. In the sullen silence the busy hands moved withquick skill, the furnace roared, the glowing glass grew in ever-changingshapes. 

"One of you must give Zorzi his place, " said Giovanni, in a tone ofauthority. 

The little foreman turned quite round in his chair and looked on. Therewas no reply. The pale men went on with their work as if Giovanni werenot there, and Zorzi leaned calmly on his blow-pipe. Giovanni moved astep forward and spoke directly to one of the men who had just dropped afinished glass into the bed of soft wood ashes, to be taken to theannealing oven. 

"Stop working for a while, " he said. "Let Zorzi have your place. "

"The foreman gives orders here, not you, " answered the man coolly, andhe prepared to begin another piece. 

Giovanni was very angry, but there were too many of the workmen, and hedid not say what rose to his lips, but crossed over to the foreman. Zorzi kept his place, waiting to see what might happen. 

"Will you be so good as to order one of the men to give up his place?"Giovanni asked. 

The old foreman smiled at this humble acknowledgment of his authority, but he argued the point before acceding. 

"The men know well enough what Zorzi can do, " he answered in a lowvoice. "They dislike him, because he is not one of us. I advise you totake him to your own glass-house, sir, if you wish to see him work. Youwill only make trouble here. "

"I am not afraid of any trouble, I tell you, " replied Giovanni. "Pleasedo what I ask. "

"Very well. I will, but I take no responsibility before the master ifthere is a disturbance. The men are in a bad humour and the weather ishot. "

"I will be responsible to my father, " said Giovanni. 

"Very well, " repeated the old man. "You are a glass-maker yourself, likethe rest of us. You know how we look upon foreigners who steal theirknowledge of our art. "

"I wish to make sure that he has really stolen something of it. "

The foreman laughed outright. 

"You will be convinced soon enough!" he said. "Give your place to theforeigner, Piero, " he added, speaking to the man who had refused to moveat Giovanni's bidding. 

Piero at once chilled the fresh lump of glass he had begun to fashionand smashed it off the tube into the refuse jar. Without a word Zorzitook his place. While he warmed the end of his blow-pipe at the 'bocca'he looked to right and left to see where the working-stool and marverwere placed, and to be sure that the few tools he needed were at hand, the pontil, the 'procello, '--that is, the small elastic tongs formodelling--and the shears. Piero's apprentice had retired to a distance, as he had received no special orders, and the workmen hoped that Zorziwould find himself in difficulty at the moment when he would turn in theexpectation of finding the assistant at his elbow. But Zorzi was used tohelping himself. He pushed his blow-pipe into the melted glass and drewit out, let it cool a moment and then thrust it in again to take up moreof the stuff. 

The men went on with their work, seeming to pay no attention to him, andPiero turned his back and talked to the foreman in low tones. OnlyGiovanni watched, standing far enough back to be out of reach of thelong blow-pipe if Zorzi should unexpectedly swing it to its full length. Zorzi was confident and unconcerned, though he was fully aware that themen were watching every movement he made, while pretending not to see. He knew also that owing to his being partly self-taught he did certainthings in ways of his own. They should see that his ways were as good astheirs, and what was more, that he needed no help, while none of themcould do anything without an apprentice. 

The glass grew and swelled, lengthened and contracted with his breathand under his touch, and the men, furtively watching him, were amazed tosee how much he could do while the piece was still on the blow-pipe. But when he could do no more they thought that he would have trouble. Hedid not even turn his head to see whether any one was near to help him. At the exact moment when the work was cool enough to stand he attachedthe pontil with its drop of liquid glass to the lower end, as he haddone many a time in the laboratory, and before those who looked on couldfully understand how he had done it without assistance, the long andheavy blow-pipe lay on the floor and Zorzi held his piece on the lighterpontil, heating it again at the fire. 

The men did not stop working, but they glanced at each other and nodded, when Zorzi could not see them. Giovanni uttered a low exclamation ofsurprise. The foreman alone now watched Zorzi with genuine admiration;there was no mistaking the jealous attitude of the others. It was notthe mean envy of the inferior artist, either, for they were men who, intheir way, loved art as Beroviero himself did, and if Zorzi had been anew companion recently promoted from the state of apprenticeship in theguild, they would have looked on in wonder and delight, even if, at thevery beginning, he outdid them all. What they felt was quite different. It was the deep, fierce hatred of the mediaeval guildsman for thestranger who had stolen knowledge without apprenticeship and withoutcitizenship, and it was made more intense because the glass-blowers werethe only guild that excluded every foreign-born man, without anyexception. It was a shame to them to be outdone by one who had nottheir blood, nor their teaching, nor their high acknowledged rights. 

They were peaceable men in their way, not given to quarrelling, norvicious; yet, excepting the mild old foreman, there was not one of themwho would not gladly have brought his iron blow-pipe down on Zorzi'shead with a two-handed swing, to strike the life out of the intruder. 

Zorzi's deft hands made the large piece he was forming spin on itselfand take new shape at every turn, until it had the perfect curve ofthose slim-necked Eastern vessels for pouring water upon the hands, which have not even now quite degenerated from their early grace ofform. While it was still very hot, he took a sharp pointed knife fromhis belt and with a turn of his hand cut a small round hole, low down onone side. The mouth was widened and then turned in and out like the leafof a carnation. He left the cooling piece on the pontil, lying acrossthe arms of the stool, and took his blow-pipe again. 

"Has the fellow not finished his tricks yet?" asked Pierodiscontentedly. 

It would have given him pleasure to smash the beautiful thing to atomswhere it lay, almost within his reach. Zorzi began to make the spout, for it was a large ampulla that he was fashioning. He drew the glassout, widened it, narrowed it, cut it, bent it and finished off thenozzle before he touched it with wet iron and made it drop into theashes. A moment later he had heated the thick end of it again and waswelding it over the hole he had made in the body of the vessel. 

"The man has three hands!" exclaimed the foreman. 

"And two of them are for stealing, " added Piero. 

"Or all three, " put in the beetle-browed man who was working next toZorzi. 

Zorzi looked at him coldly a moment, but said nothing. They did not meanthat he was a thief, except in the sense that he had stolen hisknowledge of their art. He went on to make the handle of the ampulla, aneasy matter compared with making the spout. But the highest part ofglass-blowing lies in shaping graceful curves, and it is often in thesmallest differences of measurement that the pieces made by Berovieroand Zorzi--preserved intact to this day--differ from similar things madeby lesser artists. Yet in those little variations lies all the greatsecret that divides grace from awkwardness. Zorzi now had the wholevessel, with its spout and handle, on the pontil. It was finished, buthe could still ornament it. His own instinct was to let it alone, leaving its perfect shape and airy lightness to be its only beauty, andhe turned it thoughtfully as he looked at it, hesitating whether heshould detach it from the iron, or do more. 

"If you have finished your nonsense, let me come back to my work, " saidPiero behind him. 

Zorzi did not turn to answer, for he had decided to add some delicateornaments, merely to show Giovanni that he was a full master of the art. The dark-browed man had just collected a heavy lump of glass on the endof his blow-pipe, and was blowing into it before giving it the firstswing that would lengthen it out. He and Piero exchanged glances, unnoticed by Zorzi, who had become almost unconscious of their hostilepresence. He began to take little drops of glass from the furnace on theend of a thin iron, and he drew them out into thick threads and heatedthem again and laid them on the body of the ampulla, twisting andturning each bit till he had no more, and forming a regular raiseddesign on the surface. His neighbour seemed to get no further with whathe was doing, though he busily heated and reheated his lump of glass andagain and again swung his blow-pipe round his head, and backward andforward. The foreman was too much interested in Zorzi to notice what theothers were doing. 

Zorzi was putting the last touches to his work. In a moment it would befinished and ready to go to the annealing oven, though he was even thenreflecting that the workmen would certainly break it up as soon as theforeman turned his back. The man next to him swung his blow-pipe again, loaded with red-hot glass. 

It slipped from his hand, and the hot mass, with the full weight of theheavy iron behind it, landed on Zorzi's right foot, three paces away, with frightful force. He uttered a sharp cry of surprise and pain. Thelovely vessel he had made flew from his hands and broke into a thousandtiny fragments. In excruciating agony he lifted the injured foot fromthe ground and stood upon the other. Not a hand was stretched out tohelp him, and he felt that he was growing dizzy. He made a franticeffort to hop on one leg towards the furnace, so as to lean against thebrickwork. Piero laughed. 

"He is a dancer!" he cried. "He is a 'ballarino'!" The others alllaughed, too, and the name remained his as long as he lived--he wasZorzi Ballarin. 

The old foreman came to help him, seeing that he was really injured, forno one had quite realised it at first. Savagely as they hated him, theworkmen would not have tortured him, though they might have killed himoutright if they had dared. Excepting Piero and the man who had hurthim, the workmen all went on with their work. 

He was ghastly pale, and great drops of sweat rolled down his foreheadas he reached the foreman's chair and sat down: but after the first cryhe had uttered, he made no sound. The foreman could hear how his teethground upon each other as he mastered the frightful suffering. Giovannicame, and stood looking at the helpless foot, smashed by the weight thathad fallen upon it and burned to the bone in an instant by the moltenglass. 

"I cannot walk, " he said at last to the foreman. "Will you help me?"

His voice was steady but weak. The foreman and Giovanni helped him tostand on his left foot, and putting his arms round their necks he swunghimself along as he could. The dark man had picked up his blow-pipe andwas at work again. 

"You will pay for that when the master comes back, " Piero said to him asZorzi passed. "You will starve if you are not careful. "

Zorzi turned his head and looked the dark man full in the eyes. 

"It was an accident, " he said faintly. "You did not mean to do it. "

The man looked away shamefacedly, for he knew that even if he had notmeant to injure Zorzi for life, he had meant to hurt him if he could. 

As for Giovanni, he was puzzled by all that had happened sounexpectedly, for he was a dull man, though very keen for gain, and hedid not understand human nature. He disliked Zorzi, but during themorning he had become convinced that the gifted young artist was avaluable piece of property, and not, as he had supposed, a cleverflatterer who had wormed himself into old Beroviero's confidence. A manwho could make such things was worth much money to his master. Therewere kings and princes, from the Pope to the Emperor, who would havegiven a round sum in gold for the beautiful ampulla of which only a heapof tiny fragments were now left to be swept away. 

The two men brought Zorzi across the garden to the door of thelaboratory. Leaning heavily on the foreman he got the key out, andGiovanni turned it in the lock. They would have taken him to the smallinner room, to lay him on his pallet bed, but he would not go. 

"The bench, " he managed to say, indicating it with a nod of his head. 

There was an old leathern pillow in the big chair. The foreman took itand placed it under Zorzi's head. 

"We must get a surgeon to dress his wound, " said the foreman. 

"I will send for one, " answered Giovanni. "Is there anything you wantnow?" he asked, with an attempt to speak kindly to the valuable piece ofproperty that lay helpless before him. 

"Water, " said Zorzi very faintly. "And feed the fire--it must be time. "

The foreman dipped a cupful of water from an earthen jar, held up hishead and helped him to drink. Giovanni pushed some wood into thefurnace. 

"I will send for a surgeon, " he repeated, and went out. 

Zorzi closed his eyes, and the foreman stood looking at him. 

"Do not stay here, " Zorzi said. "You can do nothing for me, and thesurgeon will come presently. "

Then the foreman also left him, and he was alone. It was not in hisnature to give way to bodily pain, but he was glad the men were gone, for he could not have borne much more in silence. He turned his head tothe wall and bit the edge of the leathern cushion. Now and then hiswhole body shook convulsively. 

He did not hear the door open again, for the torturing pain that shotthrough him dulled all his other senses. He wished that he might faintaway, even for a moment, but his nerves were too sound for that. He wasrecalled to outer things by feeling a hand laid gently on his leg, andimmediately afterwards he heard a man's voice, in a quietly gruff tonethat scarcely rose or fell, reciting a whole litany of the mostappalling blasphemies that ever fell from human lips. For an instant, inhis suffering, Zorzi fancied that he had died and was in the clutches ofSatan himself. 

He turned his head on the cushion and saw the ugly face of the oldporter, who was bending down and examining the wounded foot while hesteadily cursed everything in heaven and earth, with an earnestness thatwould have been grotesque had his language been less frightful. For afew moments Zorzi almost forgot that he was hurt, as he listened. Not asaint in the calendar seemed likely to escape the porter's fury, and heeven went to the length of cursing the relatives, male and female, ofhalf-legendary martyrs and other good persons about whose families hecould not possibly know anything. 

"For heaven's sake, Pasquale!" cried Zorzi. "You will certainly bestruck by lightning!"

He had always supposed that the porter hated him, as every one else did, and he could not understand. By this time he was far more helpless thanhe had been just after he had been hurt, and when he tried to move theinjured foot to a more comfortable position it felt like a lump ofscorching lead. 

The porter entered upon a final malediction, which might be supposed tohave gathered destructive force by collecting into itself all those thathad gone before, and he directed the whole complex anathema upon thesoul of the coward who had done the foul deed, and upon his mother, hissisters and his daughters if he had any, and upon the souls of all hisdead relations, men, women and children, and all of his relations thatshould ever be born, to the end of time. He had been a sailor in hisyouth. 

"Who did that to you?" he asked, when he had thus devoted the unknownoffender to everlasting perdition. 

"Give me some water, please, " said Zorzi, instead of answering thequestion. 

"Water! Oh yes!" Pasquale went to the earthen jar. "Water! Every devilin hell, old and young, will jump and laugh for joy when that man asksfor water and has to drink flames!"

Zorzi drank eagerly, though the water was tepid. 

"Drink, my son, " said Pasquale, holding his head up very tenderly withone of his rough hands. "I will put more within reach for you to drink, while I go and get help. "

"They have sent for a surgeon, " answered Zorzi. 

"A surgeon? No surgeon shall come here. A surgeon will divide you intolengths, fore and aft, and kill you by inches, a length each day, andfor every day he takes to kill you, he will ask a piece of silver of themaster! If a surgeon comes here I will throw him out into the canal. This is a burn, and it needs an old woman to dress it. Women are evilbeings, a chastisement sent upon us for our sins. But an old woman candress a burn. I go. There is the water. "

Zorzi called him back when he was already at the door. 

"The fire! It must not go down. Put a little wood in, Pasquale!"

The old porter grumbled. It was unnatural that a man so badly hurtshould think of his duties, but in his heart he admired Zorzi all themore for it. He took some wood, and when Zorzi looked, he was trying topoke it through the 'bocca. '

"Not there!" cried Zorzi desperately. "The small opening on the side, near the floor. "

Pasquale uttered several maledictions. 

"How should I know?" he asked when he had found the right place. "Am I anight boy? Have I ever tended fires for two pence a night and my supper?There! I go!"

Zorzi could hear his voice still, as he went out. 

"A surgeon!" he grumbled. "I should like to see the nose of that surgeonat the door!"

Zorzi cared little who came, so that he got some relief. His head washot now, and the blood beat in his temples like little fiery hammers, that made a sort of screaming noise in his brain. He saw queer lights incircles, and the beams of the ceiling came down very near, and thensuddenly went very far away, so that the room seemed a hundred feethigh. The pain filled all his right side, and he even thought he couldfeel it in his arm. 

All at once he started, and as he lay on his back his hands tried togrip the flat wood of the bench, and his eyes were wide open and fixedin a sort of frightened stare. 

What if he should go mad with pain? Who would remember the fire in themaster's furnace? Worse than that, what safety was there that in hisdelirium he should not speak of the book that was hidden under thestone, the third from the oven and the fourth from the corner?

His brain whirled but he would not go mad, nor lose consciousness, solong as he had the shadow of free will left. Rather than lie there onhis back, he would get off his bench, cost what it might, and draghimself to the mouth of the furnace. There was a supply of wood there, piled up by the night boys for use during the day. He could get to it, even if he had to roll himself over and over on the floor. If he coulddo that, he could keep his hold upon his consciousness, the touch of thebillets would remind him, the heat and the roar of the fire would keephim awake and in his right mind. 

He raised himself slowly and put his uninjured foot to the floor. Then, with both hands he lifted the other leg off the bench. He was consciousof an increase of pain, which had seemed impossible. It shot through andthrough his whole body; and he saw flames. There was only one way to doit, he must get down upon his hands and his left knee and drag himselfto the furnace in that way. It was a thing of infinite difficulty andsuffering, but he did it. Inch by inch, he got nearer. 

As his right hand grasped a billet of wood from the little pile, something seemed to break in his head. His strength collapsed, he fellforward from his knee to his full length in the ashes and dust, and hefelt nothing more. 

CHAPTER X

The porter unbarred the door and looked out. It was nearly noon and thesoutherly breeze was blowing. The footway was almost deserted. On theother side of the canal, in the shadow of the Beroviero house, an oldman who sold melons in slices had gone to sleep under a bit of raggedawning, and the flies had their will of him and his wares. A small boysimply dressed in a shirt, and nothing else, stood at a little distance, looking at the fruit and listening attentively to the voice of thetempter that bade him help himself. 

Pasquale looked at the house opposite. Everything was quiet, and theshutters were drawn together, but not quite closed. The flowers outsideMarietta's window waved in the light breeze. 

"Nella!" cried Pasquale, just as he was accustomed to call the maid whenMarietta wanted her. 

At the sound of his voice the little boy, who was about to dealeffectually with his temptation by yielding to it at once, took to hisheels and ran away. But no one looked out from the house. Pasqualecalled again, somewhat louder. The shutters of Marietta's window wereslowly opened inward and Marietta herself appeared, all in white andpale, looking over the flowers. 

"What is it?" she asked. "Why do you want Nella?"

The canal was narrow, so that one could talk across it almost in anordinary tone. 

"Your pardon, lady, " answered Pasquale. "I did not mean to disturb you. There has been a little accident here, saving your grace. "

This he added to avert possible ill fortune. Marietta instantly thoughtof Zorzi. She leaned forward upon the window-sill above the flowers andspoke anxiously. 

"What has happened? Tell me quickly!"

"A man has had his foot badly burned--it must be dressed at once. "

"Who is it?"

"Zorzi. "

Pasquale saw that Marietta started a little and drew back. Then sheleaned forward again. 

"Wait there a minute, " she said, and disappeared quickly. 

The porter heard her calling Nella from an inner room, and then he heardNella's voice indistinctly. He waited before the open door. 

Nella was a born chatterer, but she had her good qualities, and in anemergency she was silent and skilful. 

"Leave it to me, " she said. "He will need no surgeon. "

In her room she had a small store of simple remedies, sweet oil, a potof balsam, old linen carefully rolled up in little bundles, a preciousointment made from the fat of vipers, which was a marvellous cure forrheumatism in the joints, some syrup of poppies in a stumpy phial, a boxof powdered iris root, and another of saffron. She took the sweet oil, the balsam, and some linen. She also took a small pair of scissors whichwere among her most precious possessions. She threw her large blackkerchief over her head and pinned it together under her chin. 

When she came back to Marietta's room, her mistress was wrapped in adark mantle that covered hear thin white dress entirely, and one cornerof it was drawn up over her head so as to hide her hair and almost allher face. She was waiting by the door. 

"I am going with you, " she said, and her voice was not very steady. 

"But you will be seen--" began Nella. 

"By the porter. "

"Your brother may see you--"

"He is welcome. Come, we are losing time. " She opened the door and wentout quickly. 

"I shall certainly be sent away for letting you come!" protested Nella, hurrying after her. 

Marietta did not even answer this, which Nella thought very unkind ofher. From the main staircase Marietta turned off at the first landing, and went down a short corridor to the back stairs of the house, whichled to the narrow lane beside the building. Nella snorted softly inapproval, for she had feared that her mistress would boldly pass throughthe hall where there were always one or two idle men-servants inwaiting. The front door was closed against the heat, they had met no oneand they reached the door of the glass-house without being seen. 

Pasquale looked at Marietta but said nothing until all three wereinside. Then he took hold of Marietta's mantle at her elbow, and heldher back. She turned and looked at him in amazement. 

"You must not go in, lady, " he said. "It is an ugly wound to see. "

Marietta pushed him aside quietly, and led the way. Nella followed heras fast as she could, and Pasquale came last. He knew that the two womenwould need help. 

Zorzi lay quite still where he had fallen, with one hand on the billetof beech wood, the other arm doubled under him, his cheek on the dustystone. With a sharp cry Marietta ran forward and knelt beside his head, dropping her long mantle as she crossed the room. Pasquale uttered anuncompromising exclamation of surprise. 

"O, most holy Mary!" cried Nella, holding up her hands with the thingsshe carried. 

Marietta believed that Zorzi was dead, for he was very white and he layquite still. At first she opened her eyes wide in horror, but in amoment she sank down, covering her face. Pasquale knelt opposite her onone knee, and began to turn Zorzi on his back. Nella was at his feet, and she helped, with great gentleness. 

"Do not be frightened, lady, " said Pasquale reassuringly. "He has onlyfainted. I left him on the bench, but you see he must have tried to getup to feed the fire. "

While he spoke he was lifting Zorzi as well as he could. Mariettadropped her hands and slowly opened her eyes, and she knew that Zorziwas alive when she saw his face, though it was ghastly and smeared withgrey ashes. But in those few moments she had felt what she could neverforget. It had been as if a vast sword-stroke had severed her body atthe waist, and yet left her heart alive. 

"Can you help a little?" asked Pasquale. "If I could get him into myarms, I could carry him alone. "

Marietta sprang to her feet, all her energy and strength returning in amoment. The three carried the unconscious man easily enough to the benchand laid him down, as he had lain before, with his head on the leatherncushion. Then Nella set to work quickly and skilfully, for she hoped todress the wound while he was still insensible. Marietta helped her, instinctively doing what was right. It was a hideous wound. 

"It will heal more quickly than you think, " said Nella, confidently. "The burning has cauterised it. "

Marietta, delicately reared and unused to such sights, would have feltfaint if the man had not been Zorzi. As it was she only felt sharp pain, each time that Nella touched the foot. Pasquale looked on, helpless butapproving. 

Zorzi groaned, then opened his eyes and moved one hand. Nella had almostfinished. 

"If only he can be kept quiet a few moments longer, " she said, "it willbe well done. "

Zorzi writhed in pain, only half conscious yet. Marietta left Nella toput on the last bandages, and came and looked down into his face, takingone of his hands in hers. He recognised her, and stared in wildsurprise. 

"You must try and not move, " she said softly. "Nella has almostfinished. "

He forgot what he suffered, and the agonised contraction of his browsand mouth relaxed. Marietta wiped away the ashes from his forehead andcheeks, and smoothed back his thick hair. No woman's hand had touchedhim thus since his mother's when he had been a little child. He was tooweak to question what was happening to him, but a soft light came intohis eyes, and he unconsciously pressed Marietta's hand. 

She blushed at the pressure, without knowing why, and first the maideninstinct was to draw away her hand, but then she pitied him and let itstay. She thought, too, that her touch helped to keep him quiet, andindeed it did. 

"How did you know?" he asked at length, for in his half consciousness ithad seemed natural that she should have come to him when she heard thathe was hurt. 

"Pasquale called Nella, " she answered simply, "and I came too. Is thepain still very great?"

"It is much less. How can I thank you?"

She looked into his eyes and smiled as he had seen her smile once ortwice before in his life. His memory all came back now. He knew thatshe ought not to have been there, since her father was away. Hisexpression changed suddenly. 

"What is the matter?" asked Marietta. "Does it hurt very much?"

"No, " he said. "I was thinking--" He checked himself, and glanced at theporter. 

A distant knocking was heard at the outer door, Pasquale shuffled off tosee who was there. 

"I will wager that it is the surgeon!" he grumbled. "Evil befall hissoul! We do not want him. "

"What were you going to say?" asked Marietta, bending down. "There isonly Nella here now. "

"Nella should not have let you come, " said Zorzi. "If it is known, yourfather will be very angry. "

"Ah, do you see?" cried Nella, rising, for she had finished. "Did I nottell you so, my pretty lady? And if your brother finds out that you havebeen here he will go into a fury like a wild beast! I told you so! Andas for your help, indeed, I could have brought another woman, and therewas Pasquale, too. I suppose he has hands. Oh, there will be a beautifulrevolution in the house when this is known!"

But Marietta did not mean to acknowledge that she had done anything butwhat was perfectly right and natural under the circumstances; to admitthat would have been to confess that she had not come merely out of pityand human kindness. 

"It is absurd, " she said with a little indignation. "I shall tell mybrother myself that Zorzi was hurt, and that I helped you to dress hiswound. And what is more, Nella, you will have to come; again, and Ishall come with you as often as I please. All Murano may know it foranything I care. "

"And Venice too?" asked Nella, shaking her head in disapproval. "Whatwill they say in Casa Contarini when they hear that you have actuallygone out of the house to help a wounded young man in your father'sglass-house?"

"If they are human, they will say that I was quite right, " answeredMarietta promptly. "If they are not, why should I care what they say?"

Zorzi smiled. At that moment Pasquale passed the window, and then camein by the open door, growling. His ugly face was transfigured by rage, until it had a sort of grotesque grandeur, and he clenched his fist ashe began to speak. 

"Animals! Beasts! Brutes! Worse than savages! He was almost incoherent. 

"Well? What has happened now?" asked. Nella. "You talk like a mad dog. Remember the young lady!"

"It would make a leaden statue speak!" answered Pasquale. "The SignorGiovanni sends a boy to say that the Surgeon was not at home, because hehad gone to shave the arch-priest of San Piero!"

In spite of the great pain he still suffered, Zorzi laughed, a little. 

"You said that you would throw, him into the canal if he came at all, "he said. 

"Yes, and so I meant to do!" cried Pasquale. "But that is no reason whythe inhuman monster should be shaving the arch-priest when a man mightbe dying for need of him! Oh, let him come here! Oh, I advise him tocome! The miserable, cowardly, bloodletting, soap-sudding, shavinglittle beast of a barber!"

Pasquale drew a long breath after this, and unclenched his fist, but hislips still moved, as he said things to himself which would have shockedMarietta if she could have had the least idea of what they meant. 

"You cannot stay here, " she said, turning to Zorzi again. "You cannotlie on this bench all day. "

"I shall soon be able to stand, " answered Zorzi confidently. "I am muchbetter. "

"You will not stand on that foot for many a day, " said Nella, shakingher head. 

"Then Pasquale must get me a pair of crutches, " replied Zorzi. "I cannotlie on my back because I have hurt one foot. I must tend the furnace, Imust go on with my work, I must make the tests, I must--"

He stopped short and bit his lip, turning white again as a spasm ofexcruciating pain shot along his right side, from his foot upwards. Marietta bent over him, full of anxiety. 

"You are suffering!" she said tenderly. "You must not try to move. "

"It is nothing, " he answered through his closed teeth. "It will pass, Idaresay. "

"It will not pass to-day, " said Nella. "But I will bring you some syrupof poppies. That will make you sleep. "

Marietta seemed to feel the pain herself. She smoothed the leatherncushion under his head as well as she could, and softly touched hisforehead. It was hot and dry now. 

"He is feverish, " she said to Nella anxiously. 

"I will bring him barley water with the syrup of poppies. What do youexpect? Do you think that such a wound and such a burn are cooling tothe blood, and refreshing to the brain? The man is badly hurt. Of coursehe is feverish. He ought to be in his bed, like a decent Christian. "

"Some one must help me with the work, " said Zorzi faintly. 

"There is no one but me, " answered Marietta after a moment's pause. 

"You?" cried Nella, greatly scandalised. 

Even Pasquale stared at Marietta in silent astonishment. 

"Yes, " she said quietly. "There is no one else who knows enough about myfather's work. "

"That is true, " said Zorzi. "But you cannot come here and work with me. "

Marietta turned away and walked to the window. In her thin dress shestood there a few minutes, like a slender lily, all white and gold inthe summer light. 

"It is out of the question!" protested Nella. "Her brother will neverallow her to come. He will lock her up in her own room for safety, tillthe master comes home. "

"I think I shall always do just what I think right, " said Mariettaquietly, as if to herself. 

"Lord!" cried Nella. "The young lady is going mad!"

Nella was gathering together the remains of the things she had brought. Exhausted by the pain he had suffered, and by the efforts he had made tohide it, Zorzi lay on his back, looking with half-closed eyes at thegraceful outline of the girl's figure, and vaguely wishing that shewould never move, and that he might be allowed to die while quietlygazing at her. 

"Lady, " said Pasquale at last, and rather timidly, "I will take goodcare of him. I will get him crutches to-morrow. I will come in thedaytime and keep the fire burning for him. "

"It would be far better to let it go out, " observed Nella, with muchsense. 

"But the experiments!" cried Zorzi, suddenly coming back from his dream. "I have promised the master to carry them out. "

"You see what comes of your glass-working, " retorted Nella, pointing tohis bandaged foot. 

"How did it happen?" asked Marietta suddenly. "How did you do it?"

"It was done for him, " said Pasquale, "and may the Last Judgment come ahundred times over for him who did it!"

His intention was clearer than his words. 

"Do you mean that it was done on purpose, out of spite?" asked Marietta, looking from Pasquale to Zorzi. 

"It was an accident, " said the latter. "I was in the main furnace roomwith your brother. The blow-pipe with the hot glass slipped from a man'shand. Your brother saw it--he will tell you. "

"I have been porter here for five-and-twenty years, " retorted Pasquale, "and there have been several accidents in that time. But I never heardof one like that. "

"It was nothing else, " said Zorzi. 

His voice was weak. Nella had finished collecting her belongings. Marietta saw that she could not stay any longer at present, and she wentonce more to Zorzi's side. 

"Let Pasquale take care of you to-day, " she said. "I will come and seehow you are to-morrow morning. "

"I thank you, " he answered. "I thank you with all my heart. I have nowords to tell you how much. "

"You need none, " said she quietly. "I have done nothing. It is Nella whohas helped you. "

"Nella knows that I am very grateful. "

"Of course, of course!" answered the woman kindly. "You have made himtalk too much, " she added, speaking to Marietta. "Let us go away. I mustprepare the barley water. It takes a long time. "

"Is he to have nothing but barley water?" asked Pasquale. 

"I will send him what he is to have, " answered Nella, with an air ofsuperiority. 

Marietta looked back at Zorzi from the door, and his eyes were followingher. She bent her head gravely and went out, followed by the others, andhe was alone again. But it was very different now. The spasms of paincame back now and then, but there was rest between them, for there was apotent anodyne in the balsam with which Nella had soaked the firstdressing. Of all possible hurts, the pain from burning is the most acuteand lasting, and the wise little woman, who sometimes seemed so foolish, had done all that science could have done for Zorzi, even at a muchlater day. He could think connectedly now, he had been able to talk; hadit been possible for him to stand, he might even have gone on for a timewith the preparations for the next experiment. Yet he felt aninstinctive certainty that he was to be lame for life. 

He was not thinking of the experiments just then; he could think ofnothing but Marietta. Four or five days had passed since he had talkedwith her in the garden, and she was now formally promised to JacopoContarini. He wondered why she had come with Nella, and he rememberedher earnest offer of friendship. She meant to show him that she wasstill in earnest, he supposed. It had been perfect happiness to feel hercool young hand on his forehead, to press it in his own. No one couldtake that from him, as long as he lived. He remembered it through thehorrible pain it had soothed, and it was better than the touch of anangel, for it was the touch of a loving woman. But he did not know that, and be fancied that if she had ever guessed that he loved her, shewould not have come to him now. She would feel that the mere thought inhis heart was an offence. And besides, she was to marry Contarini, andshe was not of the kind that would promise to marry one man and yetencourage love in another. It was well, thought Zorzi, that she hadnever suspected the truth. 

When Marietta reached her room again she listened patiently to Nella'sscolding and warning, for she did not hear a word the good woman said toher. Nella brushed the dust from the silk mantle and from Marietta'swhite skirt very industriously, lest it should betray the secret toGiovanni or any other member of the household. For they had escapedbeing seen, even when they came back. 

Nella scolded on in a little sing-song voice, with many risinginflections. In her whole life, she said, she had never connived atanything more utterly shameless than this! She was humble, indeed, andof no account in the world, but if she had run out in the middle of theday to visit a young man when she was betrothed to her poor Vito, blessed soul, and the Lord remember him, her poor Vito would have goneto her father, might the Lord refresh his soul, and would have said, "What ways are these? Do you think I will marry a girl who runs about inthis fashion?" That was what Vito would have said. And he would havesaid, "Give me back the gold things I gave your daughter, and let me goand find a wife who does not run about the city. " And it would havebeen well said. Did Marietta suppose that an educated person like thelord Jacopo Contarini would be less particular about his bride's mannersthan that good soul Vito? Not that Vito had been ignorant. Nella shouldhave liked any one to dare to say that she had married an ignorant man!And so forth. And so on. 

Marietta heard the voice without listening to the words, and the gentle, half-complaining, half-reproving tone was rather soothing thanotherwise. She sat by the half-closed window with her bead work, whileNella talked, and brushed, and moved about the room, making imaginarysmall tasks in order to talk the more. But Marietta threaded the red andblue beads and fastened them in patterns upon the piece of stuff she wasornamenting, and when Nella looked at her every now and then, she seemedquite calm and indifferent. There had always been something inscrutableabout her. 

She was wondering why she had submitted to be betrothed to Contarini, when she loved Zorzi; and the answer did not come. She could notunderstand why it was that although she loved Zorzi with all her heartshe had been convinced that she hated him, during four long, miserabledays. Then, too, it was very strange that she should feel happy, thatshe should know that she was really happy, her heart brimming over withsunshine and joy, while Zorzi, whom she loved, was lying on thatuncomfortable bench in dreadful pain. It was true that when she thoughtof his wound, the pain ran through her own limbs and made her move inher seat. But the next moment she was perfectly happy again, and yet wasdispleased with herself for it, as if it were not quite right. 

Nella stood still at last, close to her, and spoke to her so directlythat she could not help hearing. 

"My little lady, " said the woman, "do not forget that the women arecoming early to-morrow morning to show you the stuffs which your fatherhas chosen for your wedding gown. "

"Yes. I remember. "

Marietta laid down her work in the little basket of beads and lookedaway towards the window. Between the shutters she could just see one ofthe scarlet flowers of the sweet geranium, waving in the sunlight. Itwas true. The women were coming in the morning to begin the work. Theywould measure her, and cut out patterns in buckram and fit them on her, making her stand a long time. They would spread out silks and satins onthe bed and on the table, they would hold them up and make longdraperies with them, and make the light flash in the deep folds, andthey would tell her how beautiful she would be as a bride, and that herskin was whiter than lilies and milk and snow, and her hair finer thansilk and richer than ropes of spun red gold. While they were sayingthose things she would look very grave and indifferent, and nothing theycould show her would make her open her eyes wide; but her heart wouldlaugh long and sweetly, for she should be infinitely happy, though noone would know it. She would give no opinion about the gown, no matterhow they pressed her with questions. 

After that the pieces that were to be embroidered would be verycarefully weighed, the silk and the satin, and the weights of the pieceswould be written down. Also, each of the hired women who were to makethe embroidery would receive a certain amount of silver and gold thread, of which the weight would be written down under that of the stuff, andthe two figures added together would mean just what the finished pieceof embroidery ought to weigh. For if this were not done, the women wouldof course steal the gold and silver thread, a little every day, and takeit away in their mouths, because the housekeeper would always searchthem every evening, in spite of the weighing. But they were well paidfor the work and did not object to being suspected, for it was part oftheir business. 

In time, Marietta would go to see the work they were doing, in the greatcool loft where they would sit all day, where the linen presses stoodside by side, and the great chests which held the hangings and curtainsand carpets that were used on great occasions. The housekeeper had herlittle room up there, and could watch the sewing-women at their work andscold them if they were idle, noting how much should be taken from theirpay. The women would sing long songs, answering each other for an hourat a time, but no one would hear them below, because the house was sobig. 

By and by the work would be almost finished, and then it would be quitedone, and the wedding day would be very near. There Marietta's visionof the future suddenly came to a climax, as she tried to imagine whatwould happen when she should boldly declare that neither her father, northe Council of Ten, nor the Doge himself, nor even His Holiness PopePaul, who was a Venetian too, could ever make her marry JacopoContarini. There would be such a convulsion of the family as had nevertaken place since she was born. In her imagination she fancied allMurano taking sides for her or against her; even Venice itself would beamazed at the temerity of a girl who dared to refuse the husband herfather had chosen for her. It would be an outrage on all authority, ascandal never to be forgotten, an unheard-of rebellion against thenatural law by which unmarried children were held in bondage as slavesto their parents. But Marietta was not frightened by the tremendousconsequences her fancy deduced from her refusal to marry. She was happy. Some day, the man she loved would know that she had faced the world forhim, rather than be bound to any one else, and he would love her all themore dearly for having risked so much. She had never been so happybefore. Only, now and then, when she thought of Zorzi's hurt, she felt asharp thrill of pain run through her. 

All day the tide of joy was high in her heart. Towards evening, she sentNella over to the glass-house to see how Zorzi was doing, and as soon asthe woman was gone she stood at the open window, behind her flowers, towatch her go in, Pasquale would look out, the door would be open for amoment, she would be a little nearer. 

Even in that small anticipation she was not disappointed. It was a newjoy to be able to look from her window into the dark entry that led tothe place where Zorzi was. To-morrow, or the next day, he would perhapscome to the door, helped by Pasquale, but to-morrow morning she would goand see him, come what might. She was not afraid of her brotherGiovanni, and it might be long before her father came back. Till then, at all events, she would do what she thought right, no matter how Nellamight be scandalised. 

Nella came back, and said that Zorzi was better, that he had slept allthe afternoon and now had very little pain, and he was not in anyanxiety about the furnace, for Pasquale had kept the fire burningproperly all day. Zorzi had begged Nella to deliver a message of thanks. 

"Try and remember just what he told you, " said Marietta. 

"There was nothing especial, " answered Nella with exasperatingindifference. "He said that I was to thank you very much. Something likethat--nothing else. "

"I am sure that those were not his words. Why did you forget them?"

"If it had been an account of money spent, I should remember itexactly, " answered Nella. "A pennyworth of thread, beeswax a farthing, so much for needles; I should forget nothing. But when a man says 'Ithank you, ' what is there to remember? But you are never satisfied!Nella may work her hands to the bone for you, Nella may run errands foryou till she is lame, you are never pleased with what Nella does! It isalways the same. "

She tossed her brown head to show that she was offended. But Mariettalaughed softly and patted the little woman's cheek affectionately. 

"You are a dear little old angel, " she said. 

Nella was pacified. 

CHAPTER XI

The porter kept his word, and took good care of Zorzi. When the nightboys had come, he carried him into the inner room and put him to bedlike a child. Zorzi asked him to tell the boys to wake him at thewatches, as they had done on the previous night, and Pasquale humouredhim, but when he went away he wisely forgot to give the message, and thelads, who knew that he had been hurt, supposed that he was not to bedisturbed. It was broad daylight when he awoke and saw Pasquale standingbeside him. 

"Are the boys gone already?" he asked, almost as he opened his eyes. 

"No, they are all asleep in a corner, " answered the porter. 

"Asleep!" cried Zorzi, in sudden anxiety. "Wake them, Pasquale, and seewhether the sand-glass has been turned and is running, and whether thefire is burning. The young good-for-nothings!"

"I will wake them, " answered Pasquale. "I supposed that they wereallowed to sleep after daylight. "

A moment later Zorzi heard him apostrophising the three lads with hisusual vigour of language. Judging from the sounds that accompanied thewords he was encouraging their movements by other means also. Presentlyone of the three set up a howl. 

"Oh, you sons of snails and codfish, I will teach you!" growledPasquale; and he proceeded to teach them, till they were all threehowling at once. 

Zorzi knew that they deserved a beating, but he was naturallytender-hearted. 

"Pasquale!" he called out. "Let them alone! Let them make up the fire!"

Pasquale came back, and the yells subsided. 

"I have knocked their empty heads together, " he observed. "They will notsleep for a week. Yes, the sand-glass has run out, but the fire is notvery low. I will bring you water, and when you are dressed I will carryyou out into the laboratory. "

The boys did not dare to go away till they had made up the fire. Thenthey took themselves off, and as Pasquale let them out he treated themto a final expression of his opinion. The tallest of the three wasbleeding from his nose, which had been brought into violent conjunctionwith the skull of one of his companions. When the door was shut, andthey had gone a few steps along the footway, he stopped the others. 

"We are glass-blowers' sons, " he said, "and we have been beaten by thatswine of a porter. Let us be revenged on him. Even Zorzi would not havedared to touch us, because he is a foreigner. "

"We can do nothing, " answered the smallest boy disconsolately. "If Itell my father that we went to sleep, he will say that the porterserved us right, and I shall get another beating. "

"You are cowards, " said the first speaker. "But I am wounded, " hecontinued proudly, pointing to his nose. "I will go to the master andask redress. I will sit down before the door and wait for him. "

"Do what you please, " returned the others. "We will go home. "

"You have no spirit of honour in you, " said the tall boy contemptuously. 

He turned his back on them in disdain, crossed the bridge and sat downunder the covered way in front of Beroviero's house. He smeared theblood over his face till he really looked as if he might be badly hurt, and he kept up a low, tremulous moaning. His nose really hurt him, andas he was extremely sorry for himself some real tears came into his eyesnow and then. He waited a long time. The front door was opened and twomen came out with brooms and began to sweep. When they saw him they werefor making him go away, but he cried out that he was waiting for theSignor Giovanni, to show him how a free glass-blower's son had beentreated by a dog of a foreigner and a swine of a porter over there inthe glass-house. Then the servants let him stay, for they feared theporter and hated Zorzi for being a Dalmatian. 

At last Giovanni came out, and the boy at once uttered a particularlyeffective moan. Giovanni stopped and looked at him, and he gulped andsobbed vigorously. 

"Get up and go away at once!" said Giovanni, much disgusted by the sightof the blood. 

"I will not go till you hear me, sir, " answered the boy dramatically. "Iam a free glass-blower's son and I have been beaten like this by theporter of the glass-house! This is the way we are treated, though wework to learn the art as our fathers worked before us. "

"You probably went to sleep, you little wretch, " observed Giovanni. "Getout of my way, and go home!"

"Justice, sir! Justice!" moaned the boy, dropping himself on his knees. 

"Nonsense! Go away!" Giovanni pushed him aside, and began to walk on. 

The boy sprang up and followed him, and running beside him as Giovannitried to get away, touched the skirt of his coat respectfully, and thenkissed the back of his own hand. 

"If you will listen to me, sir, " he said in a low voice, "I will tellyou something you wish to know. "

Giovanni stopped short and looked at him with curiosity. 

"I will tell you of something the master did on the Sunday night beforehe went on his journey, " continued the lad. "I am one of the night boysin the laboratory, and I saw with my eyes while the others were asleep, for we had been told to wait till we were called. "

Giovanni looked about, to see whether any one was within hearing. Theywere still in the covered footway above which the first story of thehouse was built, but were near the end, and the shutters of the lowerwindows were closed. 

"Tell me what you saw, " said Giovanni, "but do not speak loud. "

At this moment the other two boys came running up with noisylamentations. With the wisdom of their kind they had patiently watchedto see whether their companion would get a hearing of the master, andjudging that he had been successful at last, they came to enjoy thefruit of his efforts. 

"We also have been beaten!" they wailed, but they bore no outward andvisible signs of ill-treatment on them. 

The elder boy turned upon them with righteous fury, and to theirunspeakable surprise began to drive them away with kicks and blows. Theycould not stand against him, and after a brief resistance, they turnedand ran at full speed. The victor came back to Giovanni's side. 

"They are cowardly fellows, " he said, with disdain. "They are ignorantboys. What do you expect? But they will not come back. "

"Go on with your story, " said Giovanni impatiently, "but speak low. "

"It was on Sunday night, sir. The master came to talk with Zorzi in thelaboratory. I was in the garden, at the entrance of the other passage. When the door opened there was not much light, and the master waswrapped in his cloak, and he turned a little, and went in sideways, soI knew that he had something under his arm, for the door is narrow. "

"He was probably bringing over some valuable materials, " said Giovanni. 

"I believe he was bringing the great book, " said the boy confidently, but almost in a whisper. 

"What great book?"

The lad looked at Giovanni with an expression of cunning on his face, asmuch as to say that he was not to be deceived by such a transparentpretence of ignorance. 

"He was afraid to leave it in his house, " he said, "lest you should findit and learn how to make the gold as he does. So he took it over to thelaboratory at night. "

Giovanni began to understand, though it was the first time he had heardthat the boys, like the common people, suspected Angelo Beroviero ofbeing an alchemist. It was clear that the boy meant the book thatcontained the priceless secrets for glass-making which Giovanni and hisbrother had so long coveted. His interest increased. 

"After all, " he said, "you saw nothing distinctly. My father went in andshut the door, I suppose. "

"Yes, " answered the boy. "But after a long time the door opened again. "

He stopped, resolved to be questioned, in order that his informationshould seem more valuable. The instinct of small boys is often asdiabolically keen as that of a grown woman. 

"Go on!" said Giovanni, more and more interested. "The door openedagain, you say? Then my father came out--"

"No, sir. Zorzi came out into the light that fell from the door. Themaster was inside. "

"Well, what did Zorzi do? Be quick!"

"He brought out a shovel full of earth, sir, and he carefully scatteredit about over the flower-bed, and then he went back, and presently hecame out with the shovel again, and more earth; and so three times. Theyhad buried the great book somewhere in the laboratory. "

"But the laboratory is paved, " objected Giovanni, to gain time, for hewas thinking. 

"There is earth under the stones, sir. I remember seeing it last yearwhen the masons put down several new slabs. The great book is somewhereunder the floor of the laboratory. I must have stepped over it infeeding the fire last night, and that is why the devils that guard itinspired the porter to beat me this morning. It was the devils that sentus to sleep, for fear that we should find it. "

"I daresay, " said Giovanni with much gravity, for he thought it betterthat the boy should be kept in awe of an object that possessed suchimmense value. "You should be careful in future, or ill may befall you. "

"Is it true, sir, that I have told you something you wished to know?"

"I am glad to know that the great book is safe, " answered Giovanniambiguously. 

"Zorzi knows where it is, " suggested, the boy in a tone meant to conveythe suspicion that Zorzi might use his knowledge. 

"Yes--yes, " repeated Giovanni thoughtfully, "and he is ill. He ought tobe brought over to the house until he is better. "

"Then the furnace could be allowed to get out, sir, could it not?"

"Yes. The weather is growing warm, as it is. Yes--the furnace may be putout now. " Giovanni hardly knew that he was speaking aloud. "Zorzi willget well much sooner if he is in a good room in the house. I will see toit. "

The boy stood still beside him, waiting patiently for some reward. 

"Are we to come as usual to-night, sir, or will there be no fire?" heasked. 

"Go and ask at the usual time. I have not decided yet. There--you are agood boy. If you hold your tongue there will be more. "

Giovanni offered the lad a piece of money, but he would not take it. 

"We are glass-blowers' sons, sir, we are not poor people, " he said withtheatrical pride, for he would have taken the coin without remark if hehad not felt that he possessed a secret of great value, which mightplace Giovanni in his power before long. 

Giovanni was surprised. 

"What do you want, then?" he asked. 

"I am old enough to be an apprentice, sir. "

"Very well, " answered Giovanni. "You shall be an apprentice. But holdyour tongue about what you saw. You told me everything, did you?"

"Yes, sir. And I thank you for your kindness, sir. If I can help you, sir--" he stopped. 

"Help me!" exclaimed Giovanni. "I do not work at the furnaces! Wash yourface and come by and by to my glass-house, and you shall have anapprentice's place. "

"I shall serve you well, sir. You shall see that I am grateful, "answered the boy. 

He touched Giovanni's sleeve and kissed his own hand, and ran back tothe steps before the front door. There he knelt down, leaning over thewater, and washed his face in the canal, well pleased with the price hehad got for his bruising. 

Giovanni did not look at him, but turned to go on, past the corner ofthe house, in deep thought. From the narrow line into which the backdoor opened, Marietta and Nella emerged at the same moment. Nella hadmade sure that Giovanni had gone out, but she could not foresee that hewould stop a long time to talk with the boy in the covered footway. Sheran against him, as he passed the corner, for she was walking onMarietta's left side. The young girl's face was covered, but she knewthat Giovanni must recognise her instantly, by her cloak, and becauseNella was with her. 

"Where are you going?" he asked sharply. 

"To church, sir, to church, " answered Nella in great perturbation. "Theyoung lady is going to confession. "

"Ah, very good, very good!" exclaimed Giovanni, who was very attentiveto religious forms. "By all means go to confession, my sister. Youcannot be too conscientious in the performance of your duties. "

But Marietta laughed a little under her veil. 

"I had not the least intention of going to confession this morning, " shesaid. "Nella said so because you frightened her. "

"What? What is this?" Giovanni looked from one to the other. "Then whereare you going?"

"To the glass-house, " answered Marietta with perfect coolness. 

"You are not going to the laboratory? Zorzi is living there alone. Youcannot go there. "

"I am not afraid of Zorzi. In the first place, I wish to know how he is. Secondly, this is the hour for making the tests, and as he cannot standhe cannot try the glass alone. "

Giovanni was amazed at her assurance, and immediately assumed a graveand authoritative manner befitting the eldest brother who representedthe head of the house. 

"I cannot allow you to go, " he said. "It is most unbecoming. Our fatherwould be shocked. Go back at once, and never think of going to thelaboratory while Zorzi is there. Do you hear?"

"Yes. Come, Nella, " she added, taking her serving-woman by the arm. 

Before Giovanni realised what she was going to do, she was walkingquickly across the wooden bridge towards the glass-house, holdingNella's sleeve, to keep her from lagging, and Nella trotted beside hermistress like a frightened lamb, led by a string. Giovanni did notattempt to follow at first, for he was utterly nonplussed by hissister's behaviour. He rarely knew what to do when any one openly defiedhim. He stood still, staring after the two, and saw Marietta tap uponthe door of the glass-house. It opened almost immediately and theydisappeared within. 

As soon as they were out of sight, his anger broke out, and he made afew quick steps on the bridge. Then he stopped, for he was afraid tomake a scandal. That at least was what he said to himself, but the factwas that he was afraid to face his sister, who was infinitely braver andcooler than he. Besides, he reflected that he could not now prevent herfrom going to the laboratory, since she was already there, and that itwould be very undignified to make a scene before Zorzi, who was only aservant after all. This last consideration consoled him greatly. In theeyes of the law, and therefore in Giovanni's, Zorzi was a hired servant. Now, socially speaking, a servant was not a man; and since Zorzi was nota man, and Marietta was therefore gone with one servant to a place, belonging to her father, where there was another servant, to go thitherand forcibly bring her back would either be absurd, or else it wouldmean that Zorzi had acquired a new social rank, which was absurd also. There is no such consolation to a born coward as a logical reason fornot doing what he is afraid to do. 

But Giovanni promised himself that he would make his sister pay dearlyfor having defied him, and as he had also made up his mind to have Zorziremoved to the house, on pretence of curing his hurt, but in reality inorder to search for the precious manuscripts, it would be impossible forMarietta to commit the same piece of folly a second time. But she shouldpay for the affront she had put upon him. 

He accordingly came back to the footway and walked along toward his ownglass-house; and the boy, who had finished washing his face, smoothedhis hair with his wet fingers and followed him, having seen andunderstood all that had happened. 

Marietta sent Pasquale on, to tell Zorzi that she was coming, and whenshe reached the laboratory he was sitting in the master's big chair, with his foot on a stool before him. His face was pale and drawn fromthe suffering of the past twenty-four hours, and from time to time hewas still in great pain. As Marietta entered, he looked up with agrateful smile. 

"You seem glad to see us after all, " she said. "Yet you protested that Ishould not come to-day!"

"I cannot help it, " he answered. 

"Ah, but if you had been with us just now!" Nella began, stillfrightened. 

But Marietta would not let her go on. 

"Hold your tongue, Nella, " she said, with a little laugh. "You shouldknow better than to trouble a sick man's fancy with such stories. "

Nella understood that Zorzi was not to know, and she began examiningthe foot, to make sure that the bandages had not been displaced duringthe night. 

"To-morrow I will change them, " she said. "It is not like a scald. Theglass has burned you like red-hot iron, and the wound will healquickly. "

"If you will tell me which crucible to try, " said Marietta, "I will makethe tests for you. Then we can move the table to your side and you canprepare the new ingredients according to the writing. "

Pasquale had left them, seeing that he was not wanted. 

"I fear it is of little use, " answered Zorzi, despondently. "Of course, the master is very wise, but it seems to me that he has added so much, from time to time, to the original mixture, and so much has been takenaway, as to make it all very uncertain. "

"I daresay, " assented Marietta. "For some time I have thought so. But wemust carry out his wishes to the letter, else he will always believethat the experiments might have succeeded if he had stayed here. "

"Of course, " said Zorzi. "We should make tests of all three cruciblesto-day, if it is only to make more room for the things that are to beput in. "

"Where is the copper ladle?" asked Marietta. "I do not see it in itsplace. "

"I have none--I had forgotten. Your brother came here yesterday morning, and wanted to try the glass himself in spite of me. I knocked the ladleout of his hand and it fell through into the crucible. "

"That was like you, " said Marietta. "I am glad you did it. "

"Heaven knows what has happened to the thing, " Zorzi answered. "It hasbeen there since yesterday morning. For all I know, it may have meltedby this time. It may affect the glass, too. "

"Where can I get another?" asked Marietta, anxious to begin. 

Zorzi made an instinctive motion to rise. It hurt him badly and he bithis lip. 

"I forgot, " he said. "Pasquale can get another ladle from the mainglass-house. "

"Go and call Pasquale, Nella, " said Marietta at once. "Ask him to get acopper ladle. "

Nella went out into the garden, leaving the two together. Marietta wasstanding between the chair and the furnace, two or three steps fromZorzi. It was very hot in the big room, for the window was still shut. 

"Tell me how you really feel, " Marietta said, almost at once. 

Every woman who loves a man and is anxious about him is sure that if shecan be alone with him for a moment, he will tell her the truth about hiscondition. The experience of thousands of years has not taught womenthat if there is one person in the world from whom a man will try toconceal his ills and aches, it is the woman he loves, because he wouldrather suffer everything than give her pain. 

"I feel perfectly well, " said Zorzi. 

"Indeed you are not!" answered Marietta, energetically. "If you wereperfectly well you would be on your feet, doing your work yourself. Whywill you not tell me?"

"I mean, I have no pain, " said Zorzi. 

"You had great pain just now, when you tried to move, " retortedMarietta. "You know it. Why do you try to deceive me? Do you think Icannot see it in your face?"

"It is nothing. It comes now and then, and goes away again almost atonce. "

Marietta had come close to him while she was speaking. One hand hung byher side within his reach. He longed to take it, with such a longing ashe had never felt for anything in his life; he resisted with all thestrength he had left. But he remembered that he had held her hand in hisyesterday, and the memory was a force in itself, outside of him, drawinghim in spite of himself, lifting his arm when he commanded it to liestill. His eyes could not take themselves from the beautiful whitefingers, so delicately curved as they hung down, so softly shaded topale rose colour at their tapering tips. She stood quite still, lookingdown at his bent head. 

"You would not refuse my friendship, now, " she said, in a low voice, solow that when she had spoken she doubted whether he could haveunderstood. 

He took her hand then, for he had no resistance left, and she let himtake it, and did not blush. He held it in both his own and silently drewit to him, till he was pressing it to his heart as he had never hoped todo. 

"You are too good to me, " he said, scarcely knowing that he pronouncedthe words. 

Nella passed the window, coming back from her errand. Instantly Mariettadrew her hand away, and when the serving-woman entered she was speakingto Zorzi in the most natural tone in the world. 

"Is the testing plate quite clean?" she asked, and she was alreadybeside it. 

Zorzi looked at her with amazement. She had almost been seen with herhand in his, a catastrophe which he supposed would have entailed themost serious consequences; yet there she was, perfectly unconcerned andnot even faintly blushing, and she had at once pretended that they hadbeen talking about the glass. 

"Yes--I believe it is clean, " he answered, almost hesitating. "I cleanedit yesterday morning. "

Nella had brought the copper ladle. There were always several in theglass-works for making tests. Marietta took it and went to the furnace, while Nella watched her, in great fear lest she should burn herself. Butthe young girl was in no danger, for she had spent half her life in thelaboratory and the garden, watching her father. She wrapped the wetcloth round her hand and held the ladle by the end. 

"We will begin with the one on the right, " she said, thrusting theinstrument through the aperture. 

Bringing it out with some glass in it, she supported it with both handsas she went quickly to the iron table, and she instantly poured out thestuff and began to watch it. 

"It is just what you had the other day, " she said, as the glass rapidlycooled. 

Zorzi was seated high enough to look over the table. 

"Another failure, " he said. "It is always the same. We have scarcely hadany variation in the tint in the last week. "

"That is not your fault, " answered Marietta. "We will try the next. "

As if she had been at the work all her life, she chilled the ladle andchipped off the small adhering bits of glass from it, and slipped thelast test from the table, carrying it to the refuse jar with tongs. Oncemore she wrapped the damp cloth round her hand and went to the furnace. The middle crucible was to be tried next. Nella, looking on with nervousanxiety, was in a profuse perspiration. 

"I believe that is the one into which the ladle fell, " said Zorzi. "Yes, I am quite sure of it. "

Marietta took the specimen and poured it out, set down the ladle on thebrick work, and watched the cooling glass, expecting to see what she hadoften seen before. But her face changed, in a look of wonder anddelight. 

"Zorzi!" she exclaimed. "Look! Look! See what a colour!"

"I cannot see well, " he answered, straining his neck. "Wait a minute!"he cried, as Marietta took the tongs. "I see now! We have got it! Ibelieve we have got it! Oh, if I could only walk!"

"Patience--you shall see it. It is almost cool. It is quite stiff now. "

She took the little flat cake up with the tongs, very carefully, andheld it before his eyes. The light fell through it from the window, andher head was close to his, as they both looked at it together. 

"I never dreamed of such a colour, " said Zorzi, his face flushing withexcitement. 

"There never was such a colour before, " answered Marietta. "It is likethe juice of a ripe pomegranate that has just been cut, only there ismore light in it. "

"It is like a great ruby--the rubies that the jewellers call 'pigeon'sblood. '"

"My father always said it should be blood-red, " said Marietta. "But Ithought he meant something different, something more scarlet. "

"I thought so, too. What they call pigeon's blood is not the colour ofblood at all. It is more like pomegranates, as you said at first. Butthis is a marvellous thing. The master will be pleased. "

Nella came and looked too, convinced that the glass had in some wayturned out more beautiful by the magic of her mistress's touch. 

"It is a miracle!" cried the woman of the people. "Some saint must havemade this. "

The glass glowed like a gem and seemed to give out light of its own. AsZorzi and Marietta looked, its rich glow spread over their faces. It wasthat rare glass which, from old cathedral windows, casts such a deepstain upon the pavement that one would believe the marble itself must bedyed with unchanging color. 

"We have found it together, " said Marietta. 

Zorzi looked from the glass to her face, close by his, and their eyesmet for a moment in the strange glow and it was as if they knew eachother in another world. 

"Do not let the red light fall on your faces, " said Nella, crossingherself. "It is too much like blood--good health to you, " she addedquickly for fear of evil. 

Marietta lowered her hand and turned the piece of glass sideways, to seehow it would look. 

"What shall we do with it?" she asked. "It must not be left any longerin the crucible. "

"No. It ought to be taken out at once. Such a colour must be kept forchurch windows. If I were able to stand, I would make most of it intocylinders and cut them while hot. There are men who can do it, in theglass-house. But the master does not want them here. "

"We had better let the fires go out, " said Marietta. "It will cool inthe crucible as it is. "

"I would give anything to have that crucible empty, or an empty one inthe place, " answered Zorzi. "This is a great discovery, but it is notexactly what the master expected. I have an idea of my own, which Ishould like to try. "

"Then we must empty the crucible. There is no other way. The glass willkeep its colour, whatever shape we give it. Is there much of it?"

"There may be twenty or thirty pounds' weight, " answered Zorzi. "No onecan tell. "

Nell listened in mute surprise. She had never seen Marietta with oldBeroviero, and she was amazed to hear her young mistress talking aboutthe processes of glass-making, about crucibles and cylinders andingredients as familiarly as of domestic things. She suddenly began toimagine that old Beroviero, who was probably a magician and analchemist, had taught his daughter the same dangerous knowledge, and shefelt a sort of awe before the two young people who knew such a vast dealwhich she herself could never know. 

She asked herself what was to become of this wonderful girl, half womanand half enchantress, who brought the colour of the saints' blood out ofthe white flames, and understood as much as men did of the art which wasalmost all made up of secrets. What would happen when she was the wifeof Jacopo Contarini, shut up in a splendid Venetian palace where therewere no glass furnaces to amuse her? At first she would grow pale, thought Nella, but by and by would weave spells in her chamber whichwould bring all Venice to her will, and turn it all to gold and preciousstones and red glass, and the people to fairies subject to her will, herhusband, the Council of Ten, even the Doge himself. 

Nella roused herself, and passed her hand over her eyes, as if she werewaking from a dream. And indeed she had been dreaming, for she hadlooked too long into the wonderful depths of the new colour, and it haddazed her wits. 

CHAPTER XII

On that day Marietta felt once more the full belief that Zorzi lovedher; but the certainty did not fill her with happiness as on that firstafternoon when she had seen him stoop to pick up the rose she haddropped. The time that had seemed so very distant had come indeed;instead of years, a week had scarcely passed, and it was not by lettinga flower fall in his path that she had told him her love, as she hadmeant to do. She had done much more. She had let him take her hand andpress it to his heart, and she would have left it there if Nella had notpassed the window; she had wished him to take it, she had let it hang byher side in the hope that he would be bold enough to do so, and she hadthrilled with delight at his touch; she had drawn back her hand when thewoman came, and she had put on a look of innocent indifference thatwould have deceived one of the Council's own spies. Could any languagehave been more plain?

It was very strange, she thought, that she should all at once have goneso far, that she should have felt such undreamt joy at the moment andthen, when it was hers, a part of her life which nothing could ever undonor take from her, it was stranger still that the remembrance of thiswonderful joy should make her suddenly sad and thoughtful, that sheshould lie awake at night, wishing that it had never been, andtormenting herself with the idea that she had done an almostirretrievable wrong. At the very moment when the coming day was breakingupon her heart's twilight, a wall of darkness arose between her and thefuture. 

Much that is very good and true in the world is built upon the fancifulfears of evil that warn girls' hearts of harm. There are dangers thatcannot be exaggerated, because the value of what they threaten cannot bereckoned too great, so long as human goodness rests on the dangerousquicksands of human nature. 

Marietta had not realised what it meant to be betrothed to JacopoContarini, until she had let her hand linger in Zorzi's. But after that, one hour had not passed before she felt that she was living between twoalternatives that seemed almost equally terrible, and of which she mustchoose the one or the other within two months. She must either marryContarini and never see Zorzi again, or she must refuse to be marriedand face the tremendous consequences of her unheard-of wilfulness, herfather's anger, the just resentment of all the Contarini family, thehumiliation which her brothers would heap upon her, because, in the codeof those days, she would have brought shame on them and theirs. In thosetimes such results were very real and inevitable when a girl's formalpromise of marriage was broken, though she herself might never have beenconsulted. 

It was no wonder that Marietta was sleepless at night, and spent longhours of the day sitting listless by her window without so much asthreading a score of beads from the little basket that stood beside her. Nella came and went often, looked at her, and shook her head with a wisesmile. 

"It is the thought of marriage, " said the woman of the people toherself. "She pines and grows pale now, because she is thinking that shemust leave her father's house so soon, and she is afraid to go amongstrangers. But she will be happy by and by, like the swallows inspring. "

Nella remembered how frightened she herself had been when she wasbetrothed to her departed Vito, and she was thereby much comforted as toMarietta's condition. But she said nothing, after Marietta had coldlyrepelled her first attempt to talk of the marriage, though she forgaveher mistress's frigid order to be silent, telling herself that noright-minded young girl could possibly be natural and sweet temperedunder the circumstances. She was more than compensated for what mighthave seemed harshness, by something that looked very much like aconcession. Marietta had not gone back to the laboratory since thediscovery of the new glass, and a week had passed since then. 

Nella went every other day and did all that was necessary for Zorzi'srecovery. Each time she came he asked her about Marietta, in a ratherformal tone, as was becoming when he spoke of his master's daughter, but hoping that Nella might have some message to deliver, and he wasmore and more disappointed as he realised that Marietta did not mean tosend him any. She had gone away on that morning with a sort ofintimation that she would come back every day, but Nella did not so muchas hint that she ever meant to come back at all. 

Zorzi went about on crutches, swinging his helpless foot as he walked, for it still hurt him when he put it to the ground. He was pale andthin, both from pain and from living shut up almost all day in the closeatmosphere of the laboratory. For a change, he began to come out intothe little garden, sometimes walking up and down on his crutches for afew minutes, and then sitting down to rest on the bench under theplane-tree, where Marietta had so often sat. Pasquale came and talkedwith him sometimes, but Zorzi never went to the porter's lodge. 

He felt that if he got as far as that he should inevitably open the doorand look up at Marietta's window, and he would not do it, for he washurt by her apparent indifference, after having allowed him to hold herhand in his. She had not even asked through Nella what had become of thebeautiful glass. What he pretended to say to himself was that it wouldbe very wrong to go and stand outside the glass-house, where the porterwould certainly see him, and where he might be seen by any one else, staring at the window of his master's daughter's room on the other sideof the canal. But what he really felt was that Marietta had treated himcapriciously and that if he had a particle of self-respect he must showher that he did not care. For if Marietta was very like other carefullybrought up girls of her age, Zorzi was nothing more than a boy wherelove was concerned, and like many boys who have struggled for existencein a more or less corrupt world, he had heard much more of thefaithlessness and caprices of women in general than of the sensitivenessand delicate timidity of innocent young girls. 

Marietta was his perfect ideal, the most exquisite, the most beautifuland the most lovable creature ever endowed with form and sent into theworld by the powers of good. He believed all this in his heart, with thecertainty of absolute knowledge. But he was quite incapable ofdiscerning the motives of her conduct towards him, and when he tried tounderstand them, it was not his heart that felt, but his reason thatargued, having very little knowledge and no experience at all to helpit; and since his erring reason demonstrated something that offended hisself-esteem, his heart was hurt and nursed a foolish, small resentmentagainst what he truly loved better than life itself. At one time oranother most very young men in love have found themselves in thatcondition, and have tormented themselves to the verge of fever anddistraction over imaginary hurts and wrongs. Was there ever a true lyricpoet who did not at least once in his early days believe himself thevictim of a heartless woman? And though long afterwards fate may havebrought him face to face with the tragedy of unhappy love, fierce withpassion and terrible with violent death, can he ever quite forget thefancied sufferings of first youth, the stab of a thoughtless girl'sfirst unkind word, the sickening chill he felt under her first coldlook? And what would first love be, if young men and maidens came to itwith all the reason and cool self-judgment that long living brings?

Zorzi sought consolation in his art, and as soon as he could stand andmove about with his crutches he threw his whole pent-up energy into hiswork. The accidental discovery of the red glass had unexpectedly givenhim an empty crucible with which to make an experiment of his own, andwhile the materials were fusing he attempted to obtain the new colour inthe other two, by dropping pieces of copper into each regardless of themaster's instructions. To his inexpressible disappointment he completelyfailed in this, and the glass he produced was of the commonest tint. 

Then he grew reckless; he removed the two crucibles that had containedwhat had been made according to Beroviero's theories until he had addedthe copper, and he began afresh according to his own belief. 

On that very morning Giovanni Beroviero made a second visit to thelaboratory. He came, he said, to make sure that Zorzi was recoveringfrom his hurt, and Zorzi knew from Nella that Giovanni had madeinquiries about him. He put on an air of sympathy when he saw thecrutches. 

"You will soon throw them aside, " he said, "but I am sorry that youshould have to use them at all. "

When he entered, Zorzi was introducing a new mixture, carefullypowdered, into one of the glass-pots with a small iron shovel. It wasclear that he must put it all in at once, and he excused himself forgoing on with his work. Giovanni looked at the large quantity of themixed ingredients with an experienced eye, and at once made up his mindthat the crucible must have been quite empty. Zorzi was thereforebeginning to make some kind of glass on his own account. It followedalmost logically, according to Giovanni's view of men, fairly founded ona knowledge of himself, that Zorzi was experimenting with the secrets ofPaolo Godi, which he and old Beroviero had buried together somewhere inthat very room. Now, ever since the boy had told his story, Giovanni hadbeen revolving plans for getting the manuscript into his possessionduring a few days, in order to copy it. A new scheme now suggesteditself, and it looked so attractive that he at once attempted to carryit out. 

"It seems a pity, " he said, "that a great artist like yourself shouldspend time on fruitless experiments. You might be making very beautifulthings, which would sell for a high price. "

Without desisting from his occupation Zorzi glanced at his visitor, whose manner towards him had so entirely changed within a little morethan a week. With a waif's quick instinct he guessed that Giovanniwanted something of him, but the generous instinct of the brave mantowards the coward made him accept what seemed to be meant for anadvance after a quarrel. It had never occurred to Zorzi to blameGiovanni for the accident in the glass-house, and it would have beenvery unjust to do so. 

"I can blow glass tolerably, sir, " Zorzi answered. "But none of yougreat furnace owners would dare to employ me, in the face of the law. Besides, I am your father's man. I owe everything I know to hiskindness. "

"I do not see what that has to do with it, " returned Giovanni; "it doesnot diminish your merit, nor affect the truth of what I was saying. Youmight be doing better things. Any one can weigh out sand and kelp-ashes, and shovel them into a crucible!"

"Do you mean that the master might employ me for other work?" askedZorzi, smiling at the disdainful description of what he was doing. 

"My father--or some one else, " answered Giovanni. "And besides yourastonishing skill, I fancy that you possess much valuable knowledge ofglass-making. You cannot have worked for my father so many years withoutlearning some of the things he has taken great pains to hide from hisown sons. "

He spoke the last words in a somewhat bitter tone, quite willing to letZorzi know that he felt himself injured. 

"If I have learned anything of that sort by looking on and helping, whenI have been trusted, it is not mine to use elsewhere, " said Zorzi, rather proudly. 

"That is a fine moral sentiment, my dear young friend, and does youcredit, " replied Giovanni sententiously. "It is impossible not torespect a man who carries a fortune in his head and refuses to profit byit out of a delicate sense of honour. "

"I should have very little respect for a man who betrayed his master'ssecrets, " said Zorzi. 

"You know them then?" inquired the other with unusual blandness. 

"I did not say so. " Zorzi looked at him coldly. 

"Oh no! Even to admit it might not be discreet. But apart from PaoloGodi's secrets, which my father has left sealed in my care--"

At this astounding falsehood Zorzi started and looked at Giovanni inunfeigned surprise. 

"--but which nothing would induce me to examine, " continued Giovanniwith perfect coolness, "there must be many others of my father's own, which you have learned by watching him. I respect you for yourdiscretion. Why did you start and look at me when I said that themanuscript was in my keeping?"

The question was well put, suddenly and without warning, and Zorzi wasmomentarily embarrassed to find an answer. Giovanni judged that hissurprise proved the truth of the boy's story, and his embarrassment nowadded certainty to the proof. But Zorzi rarely lost his self-possessionwhen he had a secret to keep. 

"If I seemed astonished, " he said, "it may have been because you hadjust given me the impression that the master did not trust you, and Iknow how careful he is of the manuscript. "

"You know more than that, my friend, " said Giovanni in a playful tone. 

Zorzi had now filled the crucible and was replacing the clay rings whichnarrow the aperture of the 'bocca. ' He plastered more wet clay uponthem, and it pleased Giovanni to see how well he knew every detail ofthe art, from the simplest to the most difficult operations. 

"Would anything you can think of induce you to leave my father?"Giovanni asked, as he had received no answer to his last remark. "Ofcourse, I do not mean to speak of mere money, though few people quitedespise it. "

"That may be understood in more than one way, " answered Zorzicautiously. "In the first place, do you mean that if I left the master, it would be to go to another master, or to set up as a master myself?"

"Let us say that you might go to another glass-house for a fixed time, with the promise of then having a furnace of your own. How does thatstrike you?"

"No one can give such a promise and keep it, " said Zorzi, scraping thewet clay from his hands with a blunt knife. 

"But suppose that some one could, " insisted Giovanni. 

"What is the use of supposing the impossible?" Zorzi shrugged hisshoulders and went on scraping. 

"Nothing is impossible in the Republic, except what the Ten are resolvedto hinder. And that is really impossible. "

"The Ten will not make new laws nor repeal old ones for the benefit ofan unknown Dalmatian. "

"Perhaps not, " answered Giovanni. "But on the other hand there is novery great penalty if you set up a furnace of your own. If you arediscovered, your furnace will be put out, and you may have to pay afine. It is no great matter. It is a civil offence, not a criminal one. "

"What is it that you wish of me?" asked Zorzi with sudden directness. "You are a busy man. You have not come here to pass a morning in idleconversation with your father's assistant. You want something of me, sir. Speak out plainly. If I can do what you wish, I will do it. If Icannot, I will tell you so, frankly. "

Giovanni was a little disconcerted by this speech. Excepting where moneywas concerned directly, his intelligence was of the sort that easilywastes its energy in futile cunning. He had not meant to reach the pointfor a long time, if he had expected to reach it at all at a firstattempt. 

"I like your straightforwardness, " he said evasively. "But I do notthink your conversation idle. On the contrary, I find it highlyinstructive. "

"Indeed?" Zorzi laughed. "You do me much honour, sir! What have youlearned from me this morning?"

"What I wished to know, " answered Giovanni with a change of tone, andlooking at him keenly. 

Zorzi returned the glance, and the two men faced each other in silencefor a moment. Zorzi knew what Giovanni meant, as soon as the other hadspoken. The quick movement of surprise, which was the only indiscretionof which Zorzi had been guilty, would have betrayed to any one that heknew where the manuscript was, even if it were not in his immediatekeeping. His instinct was to take the offensive and accuse his visitorof having laid a trap for him, but his caution prevailed. 

"Whatever you may think that you have learned from me, " he said, "remember that I have told you nothing. "

"Is it here, in this room?" asked Giovanni, not heeding his last speech, and hoping to surprise him again. 

But he was prepared now, and his face did not change as he replied. 

"I cannot answer any questions, " he said. 

"You and my father hid it together, " returned Giovanni. "When you hadburied it under the stones in this room, you carried the earth out witha shovel and scattered it about on a flower-bed. You took out threeshovelfuls of earth in that way. You see, I know everything. What is theuse of trying to hide your secret from me?"

Zorzi was now convinced that Giovanni himself had been lurking in thegarden. 

"Sir, " he said, with ill-concealed contempt for a man capable of suchspy's work, "if you have more to say of the same nature, pray say it toyour father, when he comes back. "

"You misunderstand me, " returned Giovanni with sudden mildness. "I hadno intention of offending you. I only meant to warn you that you werewatched on that night. The person who informed me has no doubt told manyothers also. It would have been very ill for you, if my father hadreturned to find that his secret was public property, and if you hadbeen unable to explain that you had not betrayed him. I have given you aweapon of defence. You may call upon me to repeat what I have said, whenyou speak with him. "

"I am obliged to you, sir, " said Zorzi coldly. "I shall not need todisturb you. "

"You are not wise, " returned Giovanni gravely. "If I werecurious--fortunately for you I am not!--I would send for a mason andhave some of the stones of the pavement turned over before me. A masonwould soon find the one you moved by trying them all with his hammer. "

"Yes, " said Zorzi. "If this were a room in your own glass-house, youcould do that. But it is not. "

"I am in charge of all that belongs to my father, during his absence, "answered Giovanni. 

"Yes, " said Zorzi again. "Including Paolo Godi's manuscript, as you toldme, " he added. 

"You understand very well why I said that, " Giovanni answered, withvisible annoyance. 

"I only know that you said it, " was the retort. "And as I cannot supposethat you did not know what you were saying, still less that youintentionally told an untruth, I really cannot see why you shouldsuggest bringing a mason here to search for what must be in your ownkeeping. "

Zorzi spoke with a quiet smile, for he felt that he had the best of it. Be was surprised when Giovanni broke into a peal of rather affectedlaughter. 

"You are hard to catch!" he cried, and laughed again. "You did notreally suppose that I was in earnest? Why, every one knows that you havethe manuscript here. "

"Then I suppose you spoke ironically, " suggested Zorzi. 

"Of course, of course! A mere jest! If I had known that you would takeit so literally--" he stopped short. 

"Pray excuse me, sir. It is the first time I have ever heard you sayanything playful. "

"Indeed! The fact is, my dear Zorzi, I never knew you well enough tojest with you, till to-day. Paolo Godi's secrets in my keeping? I wishthey were! Oh, not that anything would induce me to break the seals. Itold you that. But I wish they were in my possession. I tell you, Iwould pay down half my fortune to have them, for they would bring meback four times as much within the year. Half my fortune! And I am notpoor, Zorzi. "

"Half your fortune?" repeated Zorzi. "That is a large sum, I imagine. Pray, sir, how much might half your fortune be, in round numbers? Tenthousand silver lires?"

"Silver!" sneered Giovanni contemptuously. 

"Gold, then?" suggested Zorzi, drawing him on. 

"Gold? Well--possibly, " admitted Giovanni with caution. "But of course Iwas exaggerating. Ten thousand gold pounds would be too much, of course. Say, five thousand. "

"I thought you were richer than that, " said Zorzi coolly. 

"Do you mean that five thousand would not be enough to pay for themanuscript?" asked Giovanni. 

"The profits of glass-making are very large when one possesses avaluable secret, " said Zorzi. "Five thousand--" He paused, as though indoubt, or as if making a mental calculation. Giovanni fell into thetrap. 

"I would give six, " he said, lowering his voice to a still moreconfidential tone, and watching his companion eagerly. 

"For six thousand gold lires, " said Zorzi, smiling, "I am quite surethat you could hire a ruffian to break in and cut the throat of the manwho has charge of the manuscript. "

Giovanni's face fell, but he quickly assumed an expression of righteousindignation. 

"How can you dare to suggest that I would employ such means to rob myfather?" he cried. 

"If it were your intention to rob your father, sir, I cannot see that itwould matter greatly what means you employed. But I was only jesting, asyou were when you said that you had the manuscript. I did not expectthat you would take literally what I said. "

"I see, I see, " answered Giovanni, accepting the means of escape Zorzioffered him. "You were paying me back in my own coin! Well, well! Itserved me right, after all. You have a ready wit. "

"I thought that if my conversation were not as instructive as you hadhoped, I could at least try to make it amusing--light, gay, witty! Itrust you will not take it ill. "

"Not I!" Giovanni tried to laugh. "But what a wonderful thing is thishuman imagination of ours! Now, as I talked of the secrets, I forgotthat they were my father's, they seemed almost within my grasp, I wasready to count out the gold, to count out six thousand gold lires. Thinkof that!"

"They are worth it, " said Zorzi quietly. 

"You should know best, " answered the other. "There is no such glass asmy father's for lightness and strength. If he had a dozen workmen likeyou, my brother and I should be ruined in trying to compete with him. Iwatched you very closely the other day, and I watched the others, too. By the bye, my friend, was that really an accident, or does the man oweyou some grudge? I never saw such a thing happen before!"

"It was an accident, of course, " replied Zorzi without hesitation. 

"If you knew that the man had injured you intentionally, you should havejustice at once, " said Giovanni. "As it is, I have no doubt that myfather will turn him out without mercy. "

"I hope not. " Zorzi would say nothing more. 

Giovanni rose to go away. He stood still a moment in thought, and thensmiled suddenly as if recollecting himself. 

"The imagination is an extraordinary thing!" he said, going back to thepast conversation. "At this very moment I was thinking again that I wasactually paying out the money--six thousand lires in gold! I must bemad!"

"No, " said Zorzi. "I think not. "

Giovanni turned away, shaking his head and still smiling. To tell thetruth, though he knew Zorzi's character, he had not believed that anyone could refuse such a bribe, and he was trying to account for theDalmatian's integrity by reckoning up the expectations the young manmust have, to set against such a large sum of ready money. He could onlyfind one solution to the problem: Zorzi was already in full possessionof the secrets, and would therefore not sell them at any price, becausehe hoped before long to set up for himself and make his own fortune bythem. If this were true, and he could not see how it could be otherwise, he and his brother would be cheated of their heritage when their fatherdied. 

It was clear that something must be done to hinder Zorzi from carryingout his scheme. After all, Zorzi's own jesting proposal, that a ruffianshould be employed to cut his throat, was not to be rejected. It was asimple plan, direct and conclusive. It might not be possible to findthe manuscript after all, but the only man who knew its contents wouldbe removed, and Beroviero's sons would inherit what should come to themby right. Against this project there was the danger that the murderermight some day betray the truth, under torture, or might come back againand again, and demand more money; but the killing of a man who was noteven a Venetian, who was an interloper, who could be proved to haveabused his master's confidence, when he should be no longer alive todefend himself, did not strike Giovanni as a very serious matter, and asfor any one ever forcing him to pay money which he did not wish to pay, he knew that to be a feat beyond the ability of an ordinary person. 

One other course suggested itself at once. He could forestall Zorzi bywriting to his father and telling him what he sincerely believed to bethe truth. He knew the old man well, and was sure that if once persuadedthat Zorzi had betrayed him by using the manuscript, he would bemerciless. The difficulty would lie in making Beroviero believe anythingagainst his favourite. Yet in Giovanni's estimation the proofs wereoverwhelming. Besides, he had another weapon with which to rouse hisfather's anger against the Dalmatian. Since Marietta had defied him andhad gone to see Zorzi in the laboratory, he had not found what heconsidered a convenient opportunity of speaking to her on the subject;that is to say, he had lacked the moral courage to do so at all. But itwould need no courage to complain of her conduct to their father, andthough Beroviero's anger might fall chiefly upon Marietta, a portion ofit would take effect against Zorzi. It would be one more force acting inthe direction of his ruin. 

Giovanni went away to his own glass-house, meditating all manner of evilto his enemy, and as he reckoned up the chances of success, he began towonder how he could have been so weak as to offer Zorzi an enormousbribe, instead of proceeding at once to his destruction. 

Unconscious of his growing danger, Zorzi fed the fire of the furnace, and then sat down at the table before the window, laid his crutchesbeside him, and began to write out the details of his own experiments, as the master had done for years. He wrote the rather elaboratecharacters of the fifteenth century in a small but clear hand, veryunlike old Beroviero's. The window was open, and the light breeze blewin, fanning his heated forehead; for the weather was growing hotter andhotter, and the order had been given to let the main furnaces cool afterthe following Saturday, as the workmen could not bear the heat many dayslonger. After that, they would set to work in a shed at the back of theglass-house to knead the clay for making new crucibles, and the nightboys would enjoy their annual holiday, which consisted in helping theworkmen by treading the stiff clay in water for several hours every day. 

A man's shadow darkened the window while Zorzi was writing, and helooked up. Pasquale was standing outside. 

"There is a pestering fellow at the door, " he said, "who will not besatisfied till he has spoken with you. He says he has a message for youfrom some one in Venice, which he must deliver himself. "

"For me?" Zorzi rose in surprise. 

CHAPTER XIII

Zorzi swung himself along the dark corridor on his crutches afterPasquale, who opened the outer door with his usual deliberation. Alittle man stood outside in grey hose and a servant's dark coat, gathered in at the waist by a leathern belt. He was clean shaven and hishair was cropped close to his head, which was bare, for he held hisblack hat in his hand. Zorzi did not like his face. He waited for Zorzito speak first. 

"Have you a message for me?" asked the Dalmatian. "I am Zorzi. "

"That is the name, sir, " answered the man respectfully. "My master begsthe honour and pleasure of your company this evening, as usual. "

"Where?" asked Zorzi. 

"My master said that you would know the place, sir, having been therebefore. "

"What is your master's name?"

"The Angel, " answered the man promptly, keeping his eyes on Zorzi'sface. 

The latter nodded, and the servant at once made an awkward obeisancepreparatory to going away. 

"Tell your master, " said Zorzi, "that I have hurt my foot and am walkingon crutches, so that I cannot come this evening, but that I thank himfor his invitation, and send greeting to him and to the other guests. "

The man repeated some of the words in a tone hardly audible, evidentlycommitting the message to memory. 

"Signor Zorzi--hurt his foot--crutches--thanks--greeting, " he mumbled. "Yes, sir, " he added in his ordinary voice, "I will say all that. Yourservant, sir. "

With another awkward bow, he turned away to the right and walked veryquickly along the footway. He had left his boat at the entrance to thecanal, not knowing exactly where the glass-house was. Zorzi looked afterhim a moment, then turned himself on his sound foot and set his crutchesbefore him to go in. Pasquale was there, and must have heard what hadpassed. He shut the door and followed Zorzi back a little way. 

"It is no concern of mine, " he said roughly. "You may amuse yourself asyou please, for you are young, and your host may be the ArchangelMichael himself, or the holy Saint Mark, and the house to which you arebidden may be a paradise full of other angels! But I would as soon sitdown before the grating and look at the hooded brother, while theexecutioner slipped the noose over my head to strangle me, as to go toany place on a bidding delivered by a fellow with such a jail-bird'shead. It is as round as a bullet and as yellow as cheese. He has eyeslike a turtle's and teeth like those of a young shark. "

"I am quite of your opinion, " said Zorzi, halting at the entrance to thegarden. 

"Then why did you not kick him into the canal?" inquired the porter, with admirable logic. 

"Do I look as if I could kick anything?" asked Zorzi, laughing andglancing at his lame foot. 

"And where should I have been?" inquired Pasquale indignantly. "Asleep, perhaps? If you had said 'kick, ' I would have kicked. Perhaps I am astatue!"

Zorzi pointed out that it was not usual to answer invitations in thatway, even when declining them. 

"And who knows what sort of invitation it was?" retorted the old porterdiscontentedly. "Since when have you friends in Venice who bid you cometo their houses at night, like a thief? Honest men, who are friends, say'Come and eat with me at noon, for to-day we have this, or this'--say, aroast sucking pig, or tripe with garlic. And perhaps you go; and whenyou have eaten and drunk and it is the cool of the afternoon, you comehome. That is what Christians do. Who are they that meet at night? Theyare thieves, or conspirators, or dice-players, or all three. "

Pasquale happened to have been right in two guesses out of three, andZorzi thought it better to say nothing. There was no fear that the surlyold man would tell any one of the message; he had proved himself toogood a friend to Zorzi to do anything which could possibly bring himinto trouble, and Zorzi was willing to let him think what he pleased, rather than run the smallest risk of betraying the society of which hehad been obliged to become a member. But he was curious to know whyContarini kept such a singularly unprepossessing servant, and why, if hechose to keep him, he made use of him to deliver invitations. The fellowhad the look of a born criminal; he was just such a man as Zorzi hadthought of when he had jestingly proposed to Giovanni to hire amurderer. Indeed, the more Zorzi thought of his face, the more he wasinclined to doubt that the man came from Contarini at all. 

But in this he was mistaken. The message was genuine, and moreover, sofar as Contarini and the society were concerned, the man was perfectlytrustworthy. Possibly there were reasons why Contarini chose to employhim, and also why the servant was so consistently faithful to hismaster. After all, Zorzi reflected, he was certainly ignorant of thefact that the noble young idlers who met at the house of the Agnus Deiwere playing at conspiracy and revolution. 

But that night, when Contarini's friends were assembled and had countedtheir members, some one asked what had become of the Muranoglass-blower, and whether he was not going to attend their meetings infuture; and Contarini answered that Zorzi had hurt his foot and was oncrutches, and sent a greeting to the guests. Most of them were glad thathe was not there, for he was not of their own order, and his presencecaused a certain restraint in their talk. Besides, he was poor, and didnot play at dice. 

"He works with Angelo Beroviero, does he not?" asked Zuan Venier in atone of weary indifference. 

"Yes, " answered Contarini with a laugh. "He is in the service of myfuture father-in-law. "

"To whom may heaven accord a speedy, painless and Christian death!"laughed Foscari in his black beard. 

"Not till I am one of his heirs, if you please, " returned Contarini. "Assoon after the wedding day as you like, for besides her rich dowry, thelady is to have a share of his inheritance. "

"Is she very ugly?" asked Loredan. "Poor Jacopo! You have the sympathyof the brethren. "

"How does he know?" sneered Mocenigo. "He has never seen her. Besides, why should he care, since she is rich?"

"You are mistaken, for I have seen her, " said Contarini, looking downthe table. "She is not at all ill-looking, I assure you. The old man wasso much afraid that I would not agree to the match that he took her tochurch so that I might look at her. "

"And you did?" asked Mocenigo. "I should never have had the courage. Shemight have been hideous, and in that case I should have preferred not tofind it out till I was married. "

"I looked at her with some interest, " said Contarini, smiling in aself-satisfied way. "I am bound to say, with all modesty, that she alsolooked at me, " he added, passing his white hand over his thick hair. 

"Of course, " put in Foscari gravely. "Any woman would, I should think. "

"I suppose so, " answered Contarini complacently. "It is not my fault ifthey do. "

"Nor your misfortune, " added Fosoari, with as much gravity as before. 

Zuan Venier had not joined in the banter, which seemed to him to be ofthe most atrocious taste. He had liked Zorzi and had just made up hismind to go to Murano the next day and find him out. 

On that evening there was not so much as a mention of what was supposedto bring them together. Before they had talked a quarter of an hour, some one began to throw dice on the table, playing with his right handagainst his left, and in a few moments the real play had begun. 

High up in Arisa's room the Georgian woman and Aristarchi heard all thatwas said, crouching together upon the floor beside the opening the slavehad discovered. When the voices were no longer heard except at rareintervals, in short exclamations of satisfaction or disappointment, andonly the regular rattling and falling of the dice broke the silence, thepair drew back from the praying-stool. 

"They will say nothing more to-night, " whispered Arisa. "They will playfor hours. "

"They had not said a word that could put their necks in danger, "answered Aristarchi discontentedly. "Who is this fellow from theglass-house, of whom they were speaking?"

Arisa led him away to a small divan between the open windows. She satdown against the cushions at the back, but he stretched his bulk uponthe floor, resting his head against her knee. She softly rubbed hisrough hair with the palm of her hand, as she might have caressed a cat, or a tame wild animal. It gave her a pleasant sensation that had athrill of danger in it, for she always expected that he would turn andset his teeth into her fingers. 

She told him the story of the last meeting, and how Zorzi had been madeone of the society in order that they might not feel obliged to kill himfor their own safety. 

"What fools they are!" exclaimed Aristarchi with a low laugh, andturning his head under her hand. 

"You would have killed him, of course, " said Arisa, "if you had been intheir place. I suppose you have killed many people, " she addedthoughtfully. 

"No, " he answered, for though he loved her savagely, he did not trusther. "I never killed any one except in fair fight. "

Arisa laughed low, for she remembered. 

"When I first saw you, " she said, "your hands were covered with blood. Ithink the reason why I liked you was that you seemed so much moreterrible than all the others who looked in at my cabin door. "

"I am as mild as milk and almonds, " said Aristarchi. "I am as timid as arabbit. "

His deep voice was like the purring of a huge cat. Arisa looked down athis head. Then her hands suddenly clasped his throat and she tried tomake her fingers meet round it as if she would have strangled him, butit was too big for them. He drew in his chin a little, the iron musclesstiffened themselves, the cords stood out, and though she pressed withall her might she could not hurt him, even a little; but she loved totry. 

"I am sure I could strangle Contarini, " she said quietly. "He has athroat like a woman's. "

"What a murderous creature you are!" purred the Greek, against hex knee. "You are always talking of killing. "

"I should like to see you fighting for your life, " she answered, "or forme. "

"It is the same thing, " he said. 

"I should like to see it. It would be a splendid sight. "

"What if I got the worst of it?" asked Aristarchi, his vast mouthgrinning at the idea. 

"You?" Arisa laughed contemptuously. "The man is not born who could killyou. I am sure of it. "

"One very nearly succeeded, once upon a time, " said Aristarchi. 

"One man? I do not believe it!"

"He chanced to be an executioner, " answered the Greek calmly, "and I hadmy hands tied behind me. "

"Tell me about it. "

Arisa bent down eagerly, for she loved to hear of his adventures, thoughhe had his own way of narrating them which always made him out innocentof any evil intention. 

"There is nothing to tell. It was in Naples. A woman betrayed me andthey bound me in my sleep. In the morning I was condemned to death, thrown into a cart and dragged off to be hanged. I thought it was allover, for the cords were new, so that I could not break them. I triedhard enough! But even if I had broken loose, I could never have foughtmy way through the crowd alone. The noose was around my neck. "

He stopped, as if he had told everything. 

"Go on!" said Arisa. "How did you escape? What an adventure!"

"One of my men saved me. He had a little learning, and could pass for amonk when he could get a cowl. He went out before it was daylight thatmorning, and exchanged clothes with a burly friar whom he met in a quietplace. "

"But how did the friar agree to that?" asked Arisa in surprise. 

"He had nothing to say. He was dead, " answered Aristarchi. 

"Do you mean to say that he chanced to find a dead friar lying in theroad?" asked the Georgian. 

"How should I know? I daresay the monk was alive when he met my man, andhappened to die a few minutes afterwards--by mere chance. It was veryfortunate, was it not?"

"Yes!" Arisa laughed softly. "But what did he do? Why did he take thetrouble to dress the monk in his clothes?"

"In order to receive his dying confession, of course. I thought youwould understand! And his dying confession was that he, Michael Pandos, a Greek robber, had killed the man for whose murder I was being hangedthat morning. My man came just in time, for as the friar's head was halfshaved, as monks' heads are, he had to shave the rest, as they do forcoolness in the south, and he had only his knife with which to do it. But no one found that out, for he had been a barber, as he had been amonk and most other things. He looked very well in a cowl, and spokeNeapolitan. I did not know him when he came to the foot of the gallows, howling out that I was innocent. "

"Were you?" asked Arisa. 

"Of course I was, " answered Aristarchi with conviction. 

"Who was the man that had been killed?"

"I forget his name, " said the Greek. "He was a Neapolitan gentleman ofgreat family, I believe. I forget the name. He had red hair. "

Arisa laughed and stroked Aristarchi's big head. She thought she hadmade him betray himself. 

"You had seen him then?" she said, with a question. "I suppose youhappened to see him just before he died, as your man saw the monk. "

"Oh no!" answered Aristarchi, who was not to be so easily caught. "Itwas part of the dying confession. It was necessary to identify themurdered person. How should Michael Parados, the Greek robber, know thename of the gentleman he had killed? He gave a minute description ofhim. He said he had red hair. "

"You are not a Greek for nothing, " laughed Arisa. 

"Did you ever hear of Odysseus?" asked Aristarchi. 

"No. What should I know of your Greek gods? If you were a goodChristian, you would not speak of them. "

"Odysseus was not a god, " answered Aristarchi, with a grin. "He was agood Christian. I have often thought that he must have been very likeme. He was a great traveller and a tolerable sailor. "

"A pirate?" inquired Arisa. 

"Oh no! He was a man of the most noble and upright character, incapableof deception! In fact he was very like me, and had nearly as manyadventures. If you understood Greek, I would repeat some verses I knowabout him. "

"Should you love me more, if I understood Greek?" asked Arisa softly. "If I thought so, I would learn it. "

Aristarchi laughed roughly, so that she was almost afraid lest he shouldbe heard far down in the house. 

"Learn Greek? You? To make me like you better? You would be just asbeautiful if you were altogether dumb! A man does not love a woman forwhat she can say to him, in any language. "

He turned up his face, and his rough hands drew her splendid head downto him, till he could kiss her. Then there was silence for a fewminutes. 

He shook his great shoulders at last. 

"Everything else is a waste of time, " he said, as if speaking tohimself. 

Her head lay on the cushions now, and she watched him with half-closedeyes in the soft light, and now and then the thin embroideries thatcovered her neck and bosom rose and fell with a long, satisfied sigh. Herose to his feet and slowly paced the marble floor, up and down beforeher, as he would have paced the little poop-deck of his vessel. 

"I am glad you told me about that glass-blower, " he said suddenly. "Ihave met him and talked with him, and I may meet him again. He is oldBeroviero's chief assistant. I fancy he is in love with the daughter. "

"In love with the girl whom Contarini is to marry?" asked Arisa, suddenly opening her eyes. 

"Yes. I told you what I said to the old man in his private room--it wasmore like a brick-kiln than a rich man's counting-house! While I wasinside, the young man was talking to the girl under a tree. I saw themthrough a low window as I sat discussing business with Beroviero. "

"You could not hear what they said, I suppose. "

"No. But I could see what they looked. " Aristarchi laughed at his ownconceit. "The girl was doing some kind of work. The young man stoodbeside her, resting one hand against the tree. I could not see his faceall the time, but I saw hers. She is in love with him. They were talkingearnestly and she said something that had a strong effect upon him, forI saw that he stood a long time looking at the trunk of the tree, andsaying nothing. What can you make of that, except that they are in lovewith each other?"

"That is strange, " said Arisa, "for it was he that brought the messageto Contarini, bidding him go and see her in Saint Mark's. That was howhe chanced upon them, downstairs, at their last meeting. "

"How do you know it was that message, and not some other?"

"Contarini told me. "

"But if the boy loves her, as I am sure he does, why should he havedelivered the message?" asked; the cunning Greek. "It would have beenvery easy for him to have named another hour, and Contarini would neverhave seen her. Besides, he had a fine chance then to send the futurehusband to Paradise! He needed only to name a quiet street, instead ofthe Church, and to appoint the hour at dusk. One, two and three in theback, the body to the canal, and the marriage would have been brokenoff. "

"Perhaps he does not wish it broken off, " suggested Arisa, taking anequally amiable but somewhat different point of view. "He cannot marrythe girl, of course--but if she is once married and out of her father'shouse, it will be different. "

"That is an idea, " assented Aristarchi. "Look at us two. It is very muchthe same position, and Contarini will be indifferent about her, which heis not, where you are concerned. Between the glass-blower and me, andhis wife and you, he will not be a man to be envied. That is anotherreason for helping the marriage as much as we can. "

"What if the glass-blower makes her give him money?" asked the Georgianwoman. "If she loves him she will give him everything she has, and hewill take all he can get, of course. "

"Of course, if she had anything to give, " said Aristarchi. "But she willonly have what you allow Contarini to give her. The young man knows wellenough that her dowry will all be paid to her husband on the day of themarriage. It does not matter, for if he is in love he will not care muchabout the money. "

"I hope he will be careful. Any one else may see him with her, as youdid, and may warn old Contarini that his intended daughter-in-law is inlove with a boy belonging to the glass-house. The marriage would bebroken off at once if that happened. "

"That is true. "

So they talked together, judging Zorzi and Marietta according to theirviews of human nature, which they deduced chiefly from their experienceof themselves. From time to time Arisa went and listened at the hole inthe floor, and when she heard the guests beginning to take their leaveshe hid Aristarchi in the embrasure of a disused window that wasconcealed by a tapestry, and she went into the larger room and lay downamong the cushions by the balcony. When Contarini came, a few minuteslater, she seemed to have fallen asleep like a child, weary of waitingfor him. 

So far both she and Aristarchi looked upon Zorzi, who did not know oftheir existence, with a friendly eye, but their knowledge of his lovefor Marietta was in reality one more danger in his path. If at anyfuture moment he seemed about to endanger the success of their plans, the strong Greek would soon find an opportunity of sending him toanother world, as he had sent many another innocent enemy before. Theythemselves were safe enough for the present, and it was not likely thatthey would commit any indiscretion that might endanger their futureflight. They had long ago determined what to do if Contarini shouldaccidentally find Aristarchi in the house. Long before his body wasfound, they would both be on the high seas; few persons knew of Arisa'sexistence, no one connected the Greek merchant captain in any way withContarini, and no one guessed the sailing qualities of the unobtrusivevessel that lay in the Giudecca waiting for a cargo, but ballasted to doher best, and well stocked with provisions and water. The crew knewnothing, when other sailors asked when they were to sail; the men couldonly say that their captain was the owner of the vessel and was veryhard to please in the matter of a cargo. 

In one way or another the two were sure of gaining their end, as soon asthey should have amassed a sufficient fortune to live in luxurysomewhere in the far south. 

A change in the situation was brought about by the appearance of ZuanVenier at the glass-house on the following morning. Indolent, tired ofhis existence, sick of what amused and interested his companions, butgenerous, true and kind-hearted, he had been sorry to hear that Zorzihad suffered by an accident, and he felt impelled to go and see whetherthe young fellow needed help. Venier did not remember that he had everresisted an impulse in his life, though he took the greatest pains tohide the fact that he ever felt any. He perhaps did not realise thatalthough he had done many foolish things, and some that a confessorwould not have approved, he had never wished to do anything that wasmean, or unkind, or that might give him an unfair advantage over others. 

He fancied Zorzi alone, uncared for, perhaps obliged to work in spite ofhis lameness, and it occurred to him that he might help him in some way, though it was by no means clear what direction his help should take. Hedid not know that Beroviero was absent, and he intended to call for theold glass-maker. It would be easy to say that he was an old friend ofJacopo Contarini and wished to make the acquaintance of Marietta'sfather before the wedding. He would probably have an opportunity ofspeaking to Zorzi without showing that he already knew him, and hetrusted to Zorzi's discretion to conceal the fact, for he was a goodjudge of men. 

It turned out to be much easier to carry out his plan than he hadexpected. 

"My name is Zuan Venier, " he said, in answer to Pasquale's gruffinquiry. 

Pasquale eyed him a moment through the bars, and immediately understoodthat he was not a person to be kicked into the canal or received withother similar amenities. The great name alone would have awed the oldporter to something like civility, but he had seen the visitor's face, and being quite as good a judge of humanity as Venier himself, he openedthe door at once. 

Venier explained that he wished to pay his respects to Messer AngeloBeroviero, being an old friend of Messer Jacopo Contarini. Learning thatthe master was absent on a journey, he asked whether there were any onewithin to whom he could deliver a message. He had heard, he said, thatthe master had a trusted assistant, a certain Zorzi. Pasquale answeredthat Zorzi was in the laboratory, and led the way. 

Zorzi was greatly surprised, but as Venier had anticipated, he saidnothing before Pasquale which could show that he had met his visitorbefore. Venier made a courteous inclination of the head, and the porterdisappeared immediately. 

"I heard that you had been hurt, " said Venier, when they were alone. "Icame to see whether I could do anything for you. Can I?"

Zorzi was touched by the kind words, spoken so quietly and sincerely, for it was only lately that any one except Marietta had shown him alittle consideration. He had not forgotten how his master had takenleave of him, and the unexpected friendliness of old Pasquale after hisaccident had made a difference in his life; but of all men he had evermet, Venier was the one whom he had instinctively desired for a friend. 

"Have you come over from Venice on purpose to see me?" he asked, insomething like wonder. 

"Yes, " answered Venier with a smile. "Why are you surprised?"

"Because it is so good of you. "

"You have solemnly sworn to do as much for me, and for all thecompanions of our society, " returned Venier, still smiling. "We are tohelp each other under all circumstances, as far as we can, you know. Youare standing, and it must tire you, with those crutches. Shall we sitdown? Tell me quite frankly, is there anything I can do for you?"

"Nothing you could ever do could make me more grateful than I am to youfor coming, " answered Zorzi sincerely. 

Venier took the crutches from his hands and helped him to sit on thebench. 

"You are very kind, " Zorzi said. 

Venier sat down beside him and asked him all manner of questions abouthis accident, and how it had happened. Zorzi had no reason forconcealing the truth from him. 

"They all hate me here, " he said. "It happened like an accident, but theman made it happen. I do not think that he intended to maim me for life, but he meant to hurt me badly, and he did. There was not a man or a boyin the furnace room who did not understand, for no workman ever yet lethis blow-pipe slip from his hand in swinging a piece. But I do not wishto make matters worse, and I have said that I believed it was anaccident. "

"I should like to come across the man who did it, " said Venier, his eyesgrowing hard and steely. 

"When I tried to hop to the furnace on one leg to save myself fromfalling, one of the men cried out that I was a dancer, and laughed. Ihear that the name has stuck to me among the workmen. I am called the'Ballarin. '"

The ignoble meanness of Zorzi's tormentors roused Venier's generousblood. 

"You will yet be their master, " he said. "You will some day have afurnace of your own, and they will fawn to you. Your nickname will bebetter than their names in a few years!"

"I hope so, " answered Zorzi. 

"I know it, " said the other, with an energy that would have surprisedthose who only knew the listless young nobleman whom nothing could amuseor interest. 

He did not stay very long, and when he went away he said nothing aboutcoming again. Zorzi went with him to the door. He had asked theDalmatian to tell old Beroviero of his visit. Pasquale, who had neverdone such a thing in his life, actually went out upon the footway to thesteps and steadied the gondola by the gunwale while Venier got in. 

Giovanni Beroviero saw Venier come out, for it was near noon, and he hadjust come back from his own glass-house and was standing in the shadowof his father's doorway, slowly fanning himself with his large capbefore he went upstairs, for it had been very hot in the sun. He did notknow Zuan Venier by sight, but there was no mistaking the Venetian'shigh station, and he was surprised to see that the nobleman wasevidently on good terns with Zorzi. 

CHAPTER XIV

Zorzi had not left the glass-house since he had been hurt, but heforesaw that he might be obliged to leave the laboratory for an hour ormore, now that he was better. He could walk, with one crutch and astick, resting a little on the injured foot, and he felt sure that in afew days he should be able to walk with the stick alone. He had thecertainty that he was lame for life, and now and then, when it was duskand he sat under the plane-tree, meditating upon the uncertain future, he felt a keen pang at the thought that he might never again walkwithout limping; for he had been light and agile, and very swift of footas a boy. 

He fancied that Marietta would pity him, but not as she had pitied himat first. There would be a little feeling of repulsion for the cripple, mixed with her compassion for the man. It was true that, as matters weregoing now, he might not see her often again, and he was quite sure thathe had no right to think of loving her. Zuan Venier's visit had recalledvery clearly the obligations by which he had solemnly bound himself, andwhich he honestly meant to fulfil; and apart from them, when he tried toreason about his love, he could make it seem absurd enough that heshould dream of winning Marietta for his wife. 

But love itself does not argue. At first it is seen far off, like abeautiful bird of rare plumage, among flowers, on a morning in spring;it comes nearer, it is timid, it advances, it recedes, it poises onswiftly beating wings, it soars out of sight, but suddenly it is nearerthan before; it changes shapes, and grows vast and terrible, till itsflight is like the rushing of the whirlwind; then all is calm again, andin the stillness a sweet voice sings the chant of peace or themelancholy dirge of an endless regret; it is no longer the dove, nor theeagle, nor the storm that leaves ruin in its track--it is everything, itis life, it is the world itself, for ever and time without end, for goodor evil, for such happiness as may pass all understanding, if God will, and if not, for undying sorrow. 

Zorzi had forgotten his small resentment against Marietta, for nothaving given him a sign nor sent one word of greeting. He knew only thathe loved her with all his heart and would give every hope he had for thepressure of her hand in his and the sound of her answering voice; and hedreaded lest she should pity him, as one pities a hurt creature that onewould rather not touch. 

It would not be in the hope of seeing her that he might leave thelaboratory before long. He felt quite sure that Giovanni would make somefurther attempt to get possession of the little book that meant fortuneto him who should possess it; and Giovanni evidently knew where it was. It would he easy for him to send Zorzi on an errand of importance, assoon as he should be so far recovered as to walk a little. The greatglass-houses had dealings with the banks in Venice and with merchants ofall countries, and Beroviero had more than once sent Zorzi to Venice onbusiness of moment. Giovanni would come in some morning and declare thathe could trust no one but Zorzi to collect certain sums of money in thecity, and he would take care that the matter should keep him absentseveral hours. That would be ample time in which to try the flagstoneswith a hammer and to turn over the right one. Zorzi had convincedhimself that it gave a hollow sound when he tapped it and that Giovannicould find it easily enough. 

It was therefore folly to leave the box in its present place any longer, and he cast about in his mind for some safer spot in which to hide it. In the meantime, fearing lest Giovanni might think of sending him out atany moment, he waited till Pasquale had brought him water in themorning, and then raised the stone, as he had done before, took the boxout of the earth and hid it in the cool end of the annealing oven, whilehe replaced the slab. The effort it cost him to move the latter told himplainly enough that his injury had weakened him almost as an illnessmight have done, but he succeeded in getting the stone into its bed atlast. He tapped it with the end of his crutch as he knelt on the floor, and the sound it gave was even more hollow than before. He smiled as hethought how easily Giovanni would find the place, and how grievouslydisappointed he would be when he realised that it was empty. 

It occurred at once to Zorzi that Giovanni's first impression wouldnaturally be that Zorzi had taken the book himself in order to use itduring the master's absence; and this thought perplexed him for a time, until he reflected that Giovanni could not accuse him of the deedwithout accusing himself of having searched for the box, a proceedingwhich his father would never forgive. Zorzi did not intend to tell themaster of his conversation with Giovanni, nor of his suspicions. Hewould only say that the hiding-place had not seemed safe enough, becausethe stone gave a hollow sound which even the boys would notice ifanything fell upon it. 

But for Nella, it would be safest to give the box into Marietta'skeeping, since no one could possibly suspect that it could have foundits way to her room. At the mere thought, his heart beat fast. It wouldbe a reason for seeing her alone, if he could, and for talking with her. He planned how he would send her a message by Nella, begging that hemight speak to her on some urgent business of her father's, and shewould come as she had come before; they would talk in the garden, underthe plane-tree, where Pasquale and Nella could see them, and he wouldexplain what he wanted. Then he would give her the box. He thought of itwith calm delight, as he saw it all in a beautiful vision. 

But there was Nella, and there was Pasquale, the former indiscreet, thelatter silent but keen-sighted, and quick-witted in spite of his slowand surly ways. Every one knew that the book existed somewhere, and theporter and the serving-woman would guess the truth at once. At presentno one but himself knew positively where the thing was. If he carriedout his plan, three other persons would possess the knowledge. It wasnot to be thought of. 

He looked about the laboratory. There were the beams and crossbeams, andthe box would probably just fit into one of the shadowy intersticesbetween two of the latter. But they were twenty feet from the ground, hehad no ladder, and if there had been one at hand he could not havemounted it yet. His eye fell on the big earthen jar, more than half aman's height and as big round as a hogshead, half full of broken glassfrom the experiments. No one would think of it as a place for hidinganything, and it would not be emptied till it was quite full, severalmonths hence. Besides, no one would dare to empty it without Beroviero'sorders, as it contained nothing but fine red glass, which was valuableand only needed melting to be used at once. 

It was not an easy matter to take out half the contents, and he was inconstant danger of interruption. At night it would have been impossibleowing to the presence of the boys. If Pasquale appeared and saw a heapof broken glass on the floor, he would surely suspect something. Zorzicalculated that it would take two hours to remove the fragments with thecare necessary to avoid cutting his hands badly, and to put them backagain, for the shape of the jar would not admit of his employing evenone of the small iron shovels used for filling the crucibles. 

With considerable difficulty he moved a large chest, that containedsifted white sand, out of the dark corner in which it stood and placedit diagonally so as to leave a triangular space behind it. To guardagainst the sound of the broken glass being heard from without, he shutthe window, in spite of the heat, and having arranged in the corner oneof the sacks used for bringing the cakes of kelp-ashes from Egypt, hebegan to fill it with the broken glass he brought from the jar in abucket. When he judged that he had taken out more than half thecontents, he took the iron box from the annealing oven. It was hard tocarry it under the arm by which he walked with a stick, the other handbeing necessary to move the crutch, and as he reached the jar he feltthat it was slipping. He bent forward and it fell with a crash, beddingitself in the smashed glass. Zorzi drew a long breath of satisfaction, for the hardest part of the work was done. 

He tried to heave up the sack from the corner, but it was far too heavy, and he was obliged to bring back more than half of what it held bybucketfuls, before he was able to bring the rest, dragging it after himacross the floor. It was finished at last, he had shaken out the sackcarefully over the jar's mouth, and he had moved the sand-chest back toits original position. No one would have imagined that the broken glasshad been removed and put back again. The box was safely hidden now. 

He was utterly exhausted when he dropped into the big chair, afterwashing the dust and blood from his hands--for it had been impossible todo what he had done without getting a few scratches, though none of themcould have been called a cut. He sat quite still and closed his eyes. The box was safe now. It was not to be imagined that any one should eversuspect where it was, and on that point he was well satisfied. His onlypossible cause of anxiety now might be that if anything should happen tohim, the master would be in ignorance of what he had done. But he saw noreason to expect anything so serious and his mind was at rest about amatter which had much disturbed him ever since Giovanni's visit. 

The plan which he had attributed to the latter was not, however, the onewhich suggested itself to the younger Beroviero's mind. It would havebeen easy to carry out, and was very simple, and for that very reasonGiovanni did not think of it. Besides, in his estimation it would bebetter to act in such a way as to get rid of Zorzi for ever, if thatwere possible. 

On the Saturday night after Zorzi had hidden the box in the jar, theworkmen cleared away the litter in the main furnace rooms and the orderwas given to let the fires go out. Zorzi sent word to the night boys whotended the fire in the laboratory that they were to come as usual. Theyappeared punctually, and to his surprise made no objection to working, though he had expected that they would complain of the heat and allegethat their fathers would not let them go on any longer. On Sunday, according to the old rule of the house, no work was done, and Zorzi keptup the fire himself, spending most of the long day in the garden. OnSunday night the boys came again and went to work without a word, and inthe morning they left the usual supply of chopped billets piled up andready for use. Zorzi had rested himself thoroughly and went back to hisexperiments on that Monday with fresh energy. 

The very first test he took of the glass that had been fusing sinceSaturday night was successful beyond his highest expectations. He hadgrown reckless after having spoiled the original mixtures by adding thecopper in the hope of getting more of the wonderful red, and carriedaway by the love of the art and by the certainty of ultimate successwhich every man of genius feels almost from boyhood, he had deliberatelyattempted to produce the white glass for which Beroviero was famous. Hefollowed a theory of his own in doing so, for although he was tolerablysure of the nature of the ingredients, as was every workman in thehouse, neither he nor they knew anything of the proportions in whichBeroviero mixed the substances, and every glass-maker knows byexperience that those proportions constitute by far the most importantelement of success. 

Zorzi had not poured out the specimen on the table as he had done whenthe glass was coloured; on the contrary he had taken some on theblow-pipe and had begun to work with it at once, for the three greatrequisites were transparency, ductility, and lightness. In a few minuteshe had convinced himself that his glass possessed all these qualities inan even higher degree than the master's own, and that was immeasurablysuperior to anything which the latter's own sons or any otherglass-maker could produce. Zorzi had taken very little at first, and hemade of it a thin phial of graceful shape, turned the mouth outward, anddropped the little vessel into the bed of ashes. He would have set it inthe annealing oven, but he wished to try the weight of it, and he let itcool. Taking it up when he could touch it safely, it felt in his handlike a thing of air. On the shelf was another nearly like it in size, which he had made long ago with Beroviero's glass. There were scales onthe table; he laid one phial in each, and the old one was by far theheavier. He had to put a number of pennyweights into the scale with hisown before the two were balanced. 

His heart almost stood still, and he could not believe his good fortune. He took the sheet of rough paper on which he had written down theprecise contents of the three crucibles, and he carefully went over theproportions of the ingredients in the one from which he had just takenhis specimen. He made a strong effort of memory, trying to recallwhether he had been careless and inexact in weighing any of thematerials, but he knew that he had been most precise. He had also notedthe hour at which he had put the mixture into the crucible on Saturday, and he now glanced at the sand-glass and made another note. But he didnot lay the paper upon the table, where it had been lying for two days, kept in place by a little glass weight. It had become his most preciouspossession; what was written on it meant a fortune as soon as he couldget a furnace to himself; it was his own, and not the master's; it waswealth, it might even be fame. Beroviero might call him to account formisusing the furnace, but that was no capital offence after all, and itwas more than paid for by the single crucible of magnificent red glass. Zorzi was attempting to reproduce that too, for he had the master'snotes of what the pot had contained, and it was almost ready to betried; he even had the piece of copper carefully weighed to be equal inbulk with the ladle that had been melted. If he succeeded there also, that was a new secret for Beroviero, but the other was for himself. 

All that morning he revelled in the delight of working with the newglass. A marvellous dish with upturned edge and ornamented foot was thenext thing he made, and he placed it at once in the annealing oven. Thenhe made a tall drinking glass such as he had never made before, andthen, in contrast, a tiny ampulla, so small that he could almost hide itin his hand, with its spout, yet decorated with all the perfection of alarger piece. He worked on, careless of the time, his genius all alive, the rest a distant dream. 

He was putting the finishing touches to a beaker of a new shape whenthe door opened, and Giovanni entered the laboratory. Zorzi was seatedon the working stool, the pontil in one hand, the 'porcello' in theother. He glanced at Giovanni absently and went on, for it was the lasttouch and the glass was cooling quickly. 

"Still working, in this heat?" asked Giovanni, fanning himself with hiscap as was his custom. 

There was a moment's silence. Then a sharp clicking sound and the beakerfell finished into the soft ashes. 

"Yes, I am still at work, as you see, " answered Zorzi, not realisingthat Giovanni would particularly notice what he was doing. 

He rose with some difficulty and got his crutch under one arm. With aforked stick he took the beaker from the ashes and placed it in theannealing oven. Giovanni watched him, and when the broad iron door wasopen, he saw the other pieces already standing inside on the iron tray. 

"Admirable!" cried Giovanni. "You are a great artist, my dear Zorzi!There is no one like you!"

"I do what I can, " answered Zorzi, closing the door quickly, lest thehot end of the oven should cool at all. 

"I should say that you do what no one else can, " returned Giovanni. "Buthow lame you are! I had expected to find you walking as well as ever bythis time. "

"I shall never walk again without limping. "

"Oh, take courage!" said Giovanni, who seemed determined to be bothcheerful and flattering. "You will soon be as light on your feet asever. But it was a shocking accident. "

He sat down in the big chair and Zorzi took the small one by the table, wishing that he would go away. 

"It is a pity that you had no white glass in the furnace on thatparticular day, " Giovanni continued. "You said you had none, if Iremember. How is it that you have it now? Have you changed one of thecrucibles?"

"Yes. One of the experiments succeeded so well that it seemed better totake out all the glass. "

"May I see a piece of it?" inquired Giovanni, as if he were asking agreat favour. 

It was one thing to let him test the glass himself, it was quite anotherto show him a piece of it. He would see it sooner or later, and he couldguess nothing of its composition. 

"The specimen is there, on the table, " Zorzi answered. 

Giovanni rose at once and took the piece from the paper on which it lay, and held it up against the light. He was amazed at the richness of thecolour, and gave vent to all sorts of exclamations. 

"Did you make this?" he asked at last. 

"It is the result of the master's experiments. "

"It is marvellous! He has made another fortune. "

Giovanni replaced the specimen where it had lain, and as he did so, hiseye fell on the phial Zorzi had made that morning. Zorzi had not put itinto the annealing oven because it had been allowed to get quite cold, so that the annealing would have been imperfect. Giovanni took it up, and uttered a low exclamation of surprise at its lightness. He held itup and looked through it, and then he took it by the neck and tapped itsharply with his finger-nail. 

"Take care, " said Zorzi; "it is not annealed. It may fly. "

"Oh!" exclaimed Giovanni. "Have you just made it?"

"Yes. "

"It is the finest glass I ever saw. It is much better than what they hadin the main furnaces the day you were hurt. Did you not find it soyourself, in working with it?"

Zorzi began to feel anxious as to the result of so much questioning. Whatever happened he must hide from Giovanni the fact that he haddiscovered a new glass of his own. 

"Yes, " he answered, with affected indifference. "I thought it wasunusually good. I daresay there may be some slight difference in theproportions. "

"Do you mean to say that my father does not follow any exact rule?"

"Oh yes. But he is always making experiments. "

"He mixes all the materials for the main furnaces himself, does he not?"inquired Giovanni. 

"Yes. He does it alone, in the room that is kept locked. When he hasfinished, the men come and carry out the barrows. The materials arestirred and mixed together outside. "

"Yes. I do it in the same way myself. Have you ever helped my father inthat work?"

"No, certainly not. If I had helped him once, I should know the secret. "Zorzi smiled. 

"But if you do not know the secret, " said Giovanni unexpectedly, "howdid you make this glass?"

He held up the phial. 

"Why do you suppose that I made it?" Zorzi felt himself growing pale. "The master has supplies of everything here in the laboratory and in thelittle room where I sleep. "

"Is there white glass here too?"

"Of course!" answered Zorzi readily. "There is half a jar of it in myroom. We keep it there so that the night boys may not steal it a littleat a time. "

"I see, " answered Giovanni. "That is very sensible. "

He was firmly convinced that if he asked Zorzi any more direct question, the answer would be a falsehood, and he applauded himself for stoppingat the point he had reached in his inquiries. For he was an experiencedglass-maker and was perfectly sure that the phial was not made fromBeroviero's ordinary glass. It followed that Zorzi had used the preciousbook, and Giovanni inferred that the rest was a lucky accident. 

"Will you sell me one of those beautiful things you have in the oven?"Giovanni asked, in an insinuating tone. 

Zorzi hesitated. The master had often paid him a fair price for objectshe had made, and which were used in Beroviero's house, as has been told. Zorzi did not wish to irritate Giovanni by refusing, and after all, there was no great difference between being paid by old Beroviero or byhis son. The fact that he worked in glass, which had been an open secretamong the workmen for a long time, was now no secret at all. Thequestion was rather as to his right, being Beroviero's trustedassistant, to sell anything out of the house. 

"Will you?" asked Giovanni, after waiting a few moments for an answer. 

"I would rather wait until the master comes back, " said Zorzidoubtfully. "I am not quite sure about it. "

"I will take all the responsibility, " Giovanni answered cheerfully. "AmI not free to come to my father's glass-house and buy a beaker or a dishfor myself, if I please? Of course I am. But there is no real differencebetween buying from you, on one side of the garden, or from the furnaceon the other. Is there?"

"The difference is that in the one case you buy from the master and payhim, but now you are offering to pay me, who am already well paid by himfor any work I may do. "

"You are very scrupulous, " said Giovanni in a disappointed tone. "Tellme, does my father never give you anything for the things you make, andwhich you say are in the house?"

"Oh yes, " answered Zorzi promptly. "He always pays me for them. "

"But that shows that he does not consider them as part of the work youare regularly paid to do, does it not?"

"I suppose so, " Zorzi said, turning over the question in his mind. 

Giovanni took a small piece of gold from the purse he carried at hisbelt, and he laid it on the flat arm of the chair beside him, and putdown one of his crooked forefingers upon it. 

"I cannot see what objection you can have, in that case. You know verywell that young painters who work for masters help them, but are alwaysallowed to sell anything they can paint in their leisure time. "

"Yes. That is true. I will take the money, sir, and you may choose anyof the pieces you like. When the master comes, I will tell him, and if Ihave no right to the price he shall keep it himself. "

"Do you really suppose that my father would be mean enough to take themoney?" asked Giovanni, who would certainly have taken it himself underthe circumstances. 

"No. He is very generous. Nevertheless, I shall certainly tell him thewhole story. "

"That is your affair. I have nothing to say about it. Here is the money, for which I will take the beaker I saw you finishing when I came in. Isit enough? Is it a fair price?"

"It is a very good price, " Zorzi answered. "But there may be a pieceamong those in the oven which you will like better. Will you not cometo-morrow, when they are all annealed, and make your choice?"

"No. I have fallen in love with the piece I saw you making. "

"Very well. You shall have it, and many thanks. "

"Here is the money, and thanks to you, " said Giovanni, holding out thelittle piece of gold. 

"You shall pay me when you take the beaker, " objected Zorzi. "It mayfly, or turn out badly. "

"No, no!" answered Giovanni, rising, and putting the money into Zorzi'shand. "If anything happens to it, I will take another. I am afraid thatyou may change your mind, you see, and I am very anxious to have such abeautiful thing. "

He laughed cheerfully, nodded to Zorzi and went out at once, almostbefore the latter had time to rise from his seat and get his crutchunder his arm. 

When he was alone, Zorzi looked at the coin and laid it on the table. Hewas much puzzled by Giovanni's conduct, but at the same time hisartist's vanity was flattered by what had happened. Giovanni'sadmiration of the glass was genuine; there could be no doubt of that, and he was a good judge. As for the work, Zorzi knew quite well thatthere was not a glass-blower in Murano who could approach him either intaste or skill. Old Beroviero had told him so within the last fewmonths, and he felt that it was true. 

He would have been neither a natural man nor a born artist if he hadrefused to sell the beaker, out of an exaggerated scruple. But thetransaction had shown him that his only chance of success for the futurelay in frankly telling old Beroviero what he had done in his absence, while reserving his secret for himself. The master was proud of him ashis pupil, and sincerely attached to him as a man, and would certainlynot try to force him into explaining how the glass was made. Besides, the glass itself was there, easily distinguished from any other, andZorzi could neither hide it nor throw it away. 

Giovanni went out upon the footway, and as he passed, Pasquale thoughthe had never seen him so cheerful. The sour look had gone out of hisface, and he was actually smiling to himself. With such a man it wouldhardly have been possible to attribute his pleased expression to thesatisfaction he felt in having bought Zorzi's beaker. He had neverbefore, in his whole life, parted with a piece of gold without a littlepang of regret; but he had felt the most keen and genuine pleasure justnow, when Zorzi had at last accepted the coin. 

Pasquale watched him cross the wooden bridge and go into his father'shouse opposite. Then the old porter shut the door and went back to thelaboratory, walking slowly with his ugly head bent a little, as if indeep thought. Zorzi had already resumed his occupation and had a lump ofhot glass swinging on his blow-pipe, his crutch being under his rightarm. 

"Half a rainbow to windward, " observed the old sailor. "There will be asquall before long. "

"What do you mean?" asked Zorzi. 

"If you had seen the Signor Giovanni smile, as he went out, you wouldknow what I mean, " answered Pasquale. "In our seas, when we see thestump of a rainbow low down in the clouds, we say it is the eye of thewind, looking out for us, and I can tell you that the wind is never longin coming!"

"Did you say anything to make him smile?" asked Zorzi, going on with hiswork. 

"I am not a mountebank, " growled the porter. "I am not a strollingplayer at the door of his booth at a fair, cracking jokes with those whopass! But perhaps it was you who said something amusing to him, justbefore he left? Who knows? I always took you for a grave young man. Itseems that I was mistaken. You make jokes. You cause a serious personlike the Signor Giovanni to die of laughing. "

CHAPTER XV

Giovanni sat in his father's own room at home, with shut doors, and hewas writing. He had received as good an education as any young noblemanor rich merchant's son in Venice, but writing was always irksome to him, and he generally employed a scribe rather than take the pen himself. To-day he preferred to dispense with help, instead of trusting thediscretion of a secretary; and this is what he was setting down. 

"I, Giovanni Beroviero, the son of Angelo, of Murano, the glass-maker, being in my father's absence and in his stead the Master of ourhonourable Guild of Glass-makers, do entreat your Magnificence tointerfere and act for the preservation of our ancient rights andprivileges and for the maintenance of the just laws of Venice, and forthe honour of the Republic, and for the public good of Murano. There isa certain Zorzi, called the Ballarin, who was a servant of the aforesaidAngelo Beroviero, a Dalmatian and a foreigner and a fellow of no worth, who formerly swept the floor of the said Angelo's furnace room, whichthe said Angelo keeps for his private use. This fellow therefore, thisforeigner, the said Angelo being absent on a long journey, was left byhim to watch the fire in the said room, there being certain new glassin the crucibles of the said furnace, which the said Zorzi, called theBallarin, was to keep hot a certain number of days. And now in thetorrid heat of summer, the canicular days being at hand, the furnaces inthe glass-house of the said Angelo have been extinguished. But thisZorzi, called the Ballarin, although he has removed from the furnace ofthe said Angelo the glass which was to be kept hot, does insolently anddefiantly refuse to put out the fire in the said furnace, and forces theboys to make the fire all night, to the great injury of their health, because the canicular days are approaching. But the said Zorzi, calledthe Ballarin, like a raging devil come upon earth from his master Satan, heeds no heat. And he has no respect of laws, nor of persons, nor of thehonourable Guild, nor of the Republic, working day and night at theglass-blower's art, just as if he were not a Dalmatian, and a foreigner, and a low fellow of no worth. Moreover, he has made glass himself, whichit is forbidden for any foreigner to make throughout the dominions ofthe Republic. Moreover, it is a good white glass, which he could nothave made if he had not wickedly, secretly and feloniously stolen a bookwhich is the property of the aforesaid Angelo, and which contains manythings concerning the making of glass. Moreover, this Zorzi, called theBallarin, is a liar, a thief and an assassin, for of the good whiteglass which he has melted by means of the said Angelo's secrets, hemakes vessels, such as phials, ampullas and dishes, which it is notlawful for any foreigner to make. Moreover, in the vile wickedness ofhis shameless heart, the said Zorzi, called the Ballarin, has thepresumption and effrontery to sell the said vessels, openly admittingthat he has made them. And they are well made, with diabolical skill, and the sale of the said vessels is a great injury to the glass-blowersof Murano, and to the honourable Guild, besides being an affront to theRepublic. I, the aforesaid Giovanni, was indeed unable to believe thatsuch monstrous wickedness could exist. I therefore went into the furnaceroom myself, and there I found the said Zorzi, called the Ballarin, working alone and making a certain piece in the form of a beaker. Andthough he knows me, that I am the son of his master, he is so lost toall shame, that he continued to work before me, as if he were aglass-blower, and though I fanned myself in order not to die of heat, heworked before the fire, and felt nothing, raging like a devil. Itherefore offered to buy the beaker he was making and I put down a pieceof money, and the said Zorzi, called the Ballarin, a liar, a thief andan assassin, took the said piece of money, and set the said beakerwithin the annealing oven of the said furnace, wherein I saw many otherpieces of fine workmanship, and he said that I should have the saidbeaker when it was annealed. Wherefore I, being for the time the Masterof the honourable Guild in the stead of the said Angelo, entreat yourMagnificence on behalf of the said Guild to interfere and act for thepreservation of our ancient rights and privileges, and for the honour ofthe Republic. Moreover, I entreat your Magnificence to send a force bynight, in order that there may be no scandal, to take the said Zorzi, called the Ballarin, and to bind him, and carry him to Venice, that hemay be tried for his monstrous crimes, and be questioned, even withtorture, as to others which he has certainly committed, and be exiledfrom all the dominions of the Republic for ever on pain of being hanged, that in this way our laws may be maintained and our privilegespreserved. Moreover, I will give any further information of the samekind which your Magnificence may desire. At Murano, in the house ofAngelo Beroviero, my father, this third day of July, in the year of theSalvation of the World fourteen hundred and seventy, Giovanni Beroviero, the glass-maker. "

Giovanni had taken a long time in the composition of this remarkabledocument. He sat in his linen shirt and black hose, but he had pausedoften to fan himself with a sheet of paper, and to wipe the perspirationfrom his forehead, for although he was a lean man he suffered much fromthe heat, owing to a weakness of his heart. 

He folded the two sheets of his letter and tied them with a silk string, of which he squeezed the knot into pasty red wax, which he worked withhis fingers, and upon this he pressed the iron seal of the guild, usingboth his hands and standing up in order to add his weight to thepressure. The missive was destined for the Podestà of Murano, which isto say, for the Governor, who was a patrician of Venice and a most highand mighty personage. Giovanni did not mean to trust to any messenger. That very afternoon, when he had slept after dinner, and the sun waslow, he would have himself rowed to the Governor's house, and he woulddeliver the letter himself, or if possible he would see the dignitaryand explain even more fully that Zorzi, called the Ballarin, was a liar, a thief and an assassin. He felt a good deal of pride in what he hadwritten so carefully, and he was sure that his case was strong. Inanother day or two, Zorzi would be gone for ever from Murano, Giovanniwould have the precious manuscript in his possession, and when oldBeroviero returned Giovanni would use the book as a weapon against hisfather, who would be furiously angry to find his favourite assistantgone. It was all very well planned, he thought, and was sure to succeed. He would even take possession of the beautiful red glass, and of thestill more wonderful white glass which Zorzi had made for himself. Bythe help of the book, he should soon be able to produce the same in hisown furnaces. The vision of a golden future opened before him. He wouldoutdo all the other glass-makers in every market, from Paris to Palermo, from distant England to Egyptian Alexandria, wheresoever the vast tradeof Venice carried those huge bales of delicate glass, carefully packedin the dried seaweed of the lagoons. Gold would follow gold, and hiswealth would increase, till it became greater than that of any patricianin Venice. Who could tell but that, in time, the great exception mightbe made for him, and he might be admitted to sit in the Grand Council, he and his heirs for ever, just as if he had been born a real patricianand not merely a member of the half-noble caste of glass-blowers? Suchthings were surely possible. 

In the cooler hours of the afternoon he got into his father's gondola, for he was far too economical to keep one of his own, and he had himselfrowed to the house of the Governor, on the Grand Canal of Murano. But atthe door he was told that the official was in Venice and would notreturn till the following day. The liveried porter was not sure where hemight be found, but he often went to the palace of the Contarini, whowere his near relations. The Signor Giovanni, to whom the porter wasmonstrously civil, might give himself the fatigue of being taken therein his gondola. In any case it would be easy to find the Governor. Hewould perhaps be on the Grand Canal in Venice at the hour when all thepatricians were taking the air. It was very probable indeed. 

The porter bowed low as the gondola pushed off, and Giovanni leaned backin the comfortable seat, to repeat again and again in his mind what hemeant to say if he succeeded in speaking with the Governor. He had hisletter of complaint safe in his wallet, and he could remember every wordhe had written. In order to go to Venice, the nearest way was to returnfrom the Grand Canal of Murano by the canal of San Piero, and to passthe glass-house. The door was shut as usual, and Giovanni smiled as hethought of how the city archers would go in, perhaps that very night, to take Zorzi away. He would not be with them, but when they were gone, he would go and find the book under one of the stones. When he had gotit, his father might come home, for all Giovanni cared. 

Before long the gondola was winding its way through the narrow canals, now shooting swiftly along a short straight stretch, between a monasteryand a palace, now brought to by a turn of the hand at a corner, as theman at the oar shouted out a direction meant for whoever might becoming, by the right or left, as one should say "starboard helm" or"port helm, " and both doing the same, two vessels pass clear of oneanother; and to this day the gondoliers of Venice use the old words, andtell long-winded stories of their derivation and first meaning, whichseem quite unnecessary. But in Beroviero's time, the gondola had onlylately come into fashion, and every one adopted it quickly because itwas much cheaper than keeping horses, and it was far more pleasant to betaken quickly by water, by shorter ways, than to ride in the narrowstreets, in the mud in winter and in the dust in summer, jostling thosewho walked, and sometimes quarrelling with those who rode, because theway was too narrow for one horse to pass another, when both had riderson their backs. Moreover, it was law that after nine o'clock in themorning no man who had reached the fig-tree that grew in the open spacebefore San Salvatore, should ride to Saint Mark's by the Merceria, sothat people had to walk the rest of the way, leaving their horses togrooms. The gondola was therefore a great convenience, besides being anotable economy, and old Francesco Sansovino says that in his day, whichwas within a lifetime of Angelo Beroviero's, there were nine or tenthousand gondolas in Venice. But at first they had not the high peakedstem of iron, and stem and stern were made almost alike, as in theVenetian boats and skiffs of our own time. 

Giovanni got out at the steps of the Contarini palace, which, of themany that even then belonged to different branches of that great house, was distinguished above all others by its marvellous outer windingstaircase, which still stands in all its beauty and slender grace. Butnear the great palace there were little wooden houses of two stories, some new and straight and gaily painted, but some old and crooked, hanging over the canals so that they seemed ready to topple down, withcrazy outer balconies half closed in by lattices behind which the womensat for coolness, and sometimes even slept in the hot months. For thegreat city of stone and brick was not half built yet, and the spacebefore Saint Mark's was much larger than it is now, for the Procuratiedid not yet exist, nor the clock, but the great bell-tower stood almostin the middle of an open square, and there were little wooden booths atits base, in which all sorts of cheap trinkets were sold. There werealso such booths and small shops at the base of the two columns. Also, the bridge of Rialto was a broad bridge of boats, on which shops werebuilt on each side of the way, and the middle of the bridge could bedrawn out, for the great Bucentoro to pass through, when the Doge wentout in state to wed the sea. 

Giovanni Beroviero was well known to Contarini's household, for all knewof the approaching marriage, and the servants were not surprised when heinquired for the Governor of Murano, saying that his business wasurgent. But the Governor was not there, nor the master of the house. They were gone to the Grand Canal. Would the Signor Giovanni like tospeak with Messer Jacopo, who chanced to be in the palace and alone? Itwas still early, and Giovanni thought that the opportunity was a goodone for ingratiating himself with his future brother-in-law. He would goin, if he should not disturb Messer Jacopo. He was announced and usheredrespectfully into the great hall, and thence up the broad staircase tothe hall of reception above. And below, his gondoliers gossiped with theservants, talking about the coming marriage, and many indiscreet thingswere said, which it was better that their masters should not hear; asfor instance that Jacopo was really living in the house of the AgnusDei, where he kept a beautiful Georgian slave in unheard-of luxury, andthat this was a great grief to his father, who was therefore verydesirous of hastening the marriage with Marietta. The porter winked oneeye solemnly at the head gondolier, as who should imply that theestablishment at the Agnus Dei would not be given up for twentymarriages; but the gondolier said boldly that if Jacopo did not changehis life after he had married Marietta, something would happen to him. Upon this the porter inquired superciliously what, in the name of agreat many beings, celestial and infernal, could possibly happen to anyContarini who chose to do as he pleased. The gondolier answered thatthere were laws, the porter retorted that the laws were made forglass-blowers but not for patricians, and the two might have come toblows if they had not just then heard their masters' voices from thelanding of the great staircase; and of coarse it was far more importantto overhear all they could of the conversation than to quarrel about apoint of law. 

Giovanni was too full of his plan for Zorzi's destruction to resist thetemptation of laying the whole case before Contarini, who was so soon tobe a member of the family, and as Jacopo, who was himself going out, accompanied his guest downstairs, Giovanni continued to talk of thematter earnestly, and Contarini answered him by occasional monosyllablesand short sentences, much interested by the whole affair, but wishingthat Giovanni would go away, now that he had told all. He was inconstant fear lest Zorzi should say something which might betray themeetings at the house of the Agnus Dei, and had often regretted that hehad not been put quietly out of the way, instead of being admitted tothe society. Now after hearing what Giovanni had to say, he had not theslightest doubt but that Zorzi had really broken the laws, and it seemedan admirable solution of the whole affair that the Dalmatian should beexiled from the Republic for life. That being settled, he wished to getrid of his visitor, as Arisa was waiting for him. 

"I assure you, " Giovanni said, "that this miserable Zorzi is a liar, athief and an assassin. "

"Yes, " assented Contarini carelessly, "I have no doubt of it. "

"The best thing is to arrest him at once, this very night, if possible, and have him brought before the Council. "

"Yes. "

Contarini had agreed with Giovanni on this point already, and made amovement to descend, but Giovanni loved to stand still in order to talk, and he would not move. Contarini waited for him. 

"It is important that some member of the Council should be informed ofthe truth beforehand, " he continued. "Will you speak to your fatherabout it, Messer Jacopo?"

"Yes, " answered Contarini, and he spoke the word intentionally withgreat emphasis, in the hope that Giovanni would be finally satisfied andgo away. 

"You will be conferring a benefit on the city of Murano, " said Giovanniin a tone of gratitude, and this time he began to come down the steps. 

The gondolier had heard every word that had been said, as well as theservants in the lower hall; but to them the conversation had no especialmeaning, as they knew nothing of Zorzi. To the gondolier, on the otherhand, who was devoted to his master and detested his master's son, itmeant much, though his stolid, face did not betray the slightestintelligence. 

Giovanni took leave of Contarini with much ceremony, a little too much, Jacopo thought. 

"To the Grand Canal, " said Giovanni as the gondolier helped him to getin, and he backed under the 'felse. ' "Try and find the Governor ofMurano, and if you see him, take me alongside his gondola. "

The sun was now low, and as the light craft shot out at last upon theGrand Canal, the breeze came up from the land, cool and refreshing. Scores of gondolas were moving up and down, some with the black 'felse, 'some without, and in the latter there were beautiful women, whosesun-dyed hair shone resplendent under the thin embroidered veils thatloosely covered it. They wore silk and satin of rich hues, and jewels, and some were clad in well-fitting bodices that were nets of thin goldcord drawn close over velvet, with lawn sleeves gathered to the fore-armand the upper-arm by netting of seed pearls. Beside some of them sattheir husbands or their fathers, in robes and mantles of satin and silk, or in wide coats of rich stuff, open at the neck; bearded men, straight-featured, and often very pale, wearing great puffed caps setfar back on their smooth hair, their white hands playing with theirgloves, their dark eyes searching out from afar the faces of famousbeauties, or, if they were grey-haired men, fixed thoughtfully beforethem. 

Overall the evening light descended like a mist of gold, reflected fromthe sculptured walls of palaces, where marble columns and lighttraceries of stone were dyed red and orange and almost purple by thesetting sun, and nestling among the carved beams and far-projectingbalconies of wooden houses that overhung the canal, gilding the wateritself where the broad-bladed oars struck deep and churned it, and sweptaft, and steered with a poising, feathering backstroke, or where tinywaves were dashed up by a gondola's bright iron stem. Slowly the waterturned to wine below, the clear outlines of the palaces stood out lesssharply against the paling sky, the golden cloudlets, floating behindthe great tower of Saint Mark's presently faded to wreaths of delicatemist. The bells rung out from church and monastery, far and near, tillthe air was filled with a deep music, telling all Venice that the daywas done. 

Then the many voices that had echoed in greeting and in laughter, fromboat to boat, were hushed a moment, and almost every man took off hishat or cap, the robed Councillor and the gondolier behind him; and alsoa good number of the great ladies made the sign of the cross and weresilent a while. It was the hour when Venice puts forth her stealingcharm, when the terrible distinctness of her splendour grows gentle andalmost human, and the little mystery of each young life rises from theheart to hold converse with the sweet, mysterious all. Through the longday the palaces look down consciously at themselves, mirrored in thecalm water where they stand, and each seems to say "I am finer thanyou, " or "My master is still richer than yours, " or "You are going toruin faster than I am, " or "I was built by a Lombardo, " or "I bySansovino, " and the violent light is ever there to bear witness of thetruth of what each says. Within, without, in hall and church andgallery, there is perpetual brightness and perpetual silence. But at theevening hour, now, as in old times, a spirit takes Venice and folds itin loving arms, whispering words that are not even guessed by day. 

The Ave Maria had not ceased ringing when Giovanni's gondolier came upwith the Governor of Murano. He was alone, and at his invitationGiovanni left his own craft and sat down beside the patrician, whosegondola was uncovered for coolness. Giovanni talked earnestly in lowtones, holding his sealed letter in his hand, while his own oarsmanwatched him closely in the advancing dusk, but was too wise to try tooverhear what was said. He knew well enough now what Giovanni wanted ofthe Governor, and what he obtained. 

"Not to-night, " the Governor said audibly, as Giovanni returned to hisown gondola. "To-morrow. "

Giovanni turned before getting under the 'felse, ' bowed low as he stoodup and said a few words of thanks, which the Governor could hardly haveheard as his boat shot ahead, though he made one more gracious gesturewith his hand. The shadows descended quickly now, and everywhere thelittle lights came out, from latticed balconies and palace windows leftopen to let in the cool air, and from the silently gliding gondolasthat each carried a small lamp; and here and there between tall housesthe young summer moon fell across the black water, rippling under thefreshening breeze, and it was like a shower of silver falling into awidow's lap. 

But Giovanni saw none of these things, and if he had looked out of thesmall windows of the 'felse, ' he would not have cared to see them, forbeauty did not appeal to him in nature any more than in art, except thatin the latter it was a cause of value in things. Besides, as he sufferedfrom the heat all day, he was afraid of being chilled at evening; so hesat inside the 'felse, ' gloating over the success of his trip. TheGovernor, who knew nothing of Zorzi but was well aware of Giovanni'simportance in Murano, had readily consented to arrest the poor Dalmatianwho was represented as such a dangerous person, besides being a liar andother things, and Giovanni had particularly requested that the forcesent should be sufficient to overpower the "raging devil" at once andwithout scandal. He judged that ten men would suffice for this, he said. The fact was that he feared some resistance on the part of Pasquale, whom he knew to be a friend to Zorzi. He had carefully abstained fromalluding to Zorzi's lameness, lest the mere mention of it should excitesome compassion in his hearer. He had in fact done everything to assurethe success of his scheme, except the one thing which was the mostnecessary of all. He had allowed himself to speak of it in the hearingof the gondolier who hated him, and who lost no time in making use ofthe information. 

It was nearly supper-time when he deposited Giovanni at the steps of thehouse and took the gondola round to the narrow canal in which the boatslay, and which was under Nella's window. The shutters were wide open, and there was a light within. He called the serving-woman by name, andshe looked out, and asked what he wanted. Then, as now, gondoliersworked indoors like the servants when not busy with the boats, and sleptin the house. The man was on friendly terms with Nella, who liked himbecause he thought her mistress the most perfect creature in the world. 

"I have ripped the arm of my doublet, " he said. "Can you mend it for methis evening?"

"Bring it up to me now, " answered Nella. "There is time before supper. You can wait outside my room while I do it. My mistress is already gonedownstairs. "

"You are an angel, " observed the gondolier from below. "The only thingyou need is a husband. "

"You have guessed wrong, " answered Nella with a little laugh. "That isthe only thing I do not need. "

She disappeared, and the gondolier went round by the back of the houseto the side door, in order to go upstairs. In a quarter of an hour, while she stood in her doorway, and he in the passage without, he hadtold her all he knew of Giovanni's evil intentions against Zorzi, including the few words which the Governor had spoken audibly. The tornsleeve was an invention. 

Giovanni was visibly elated at supper, a circumstance which pleased hiswife but inspired Marietta with some distrust. She had never felt anysympathy for the brother who was so much older than herself, and whotook a view of things which seemed to her sordid, and she did not liketo see him sitting in her father's place, often talking of the house asif it were already his, and dictating to her upon matters of conduct aswell as upon questions of taste. Everything he said jarred on her, butas yet she had no idea that he had any plans against Zorzi, and being ofa reserved character she often took no trouble to answer what he said, except to bend her head a little to acknowledge that he had said it. When she was alone with her father, she loved to sit with him aftersupper in the big room, working by the clear light of the olive oillamp, while he sat in his great chair and talked to her of his work. Hehad told her far more than he realised of his secret processes as wellas of his experiments, and she had remembered it, for she alone of hischildren had inherited his true love and understanding of the noble artof glass-making. 

But now that he was away, Giovanni generally spent the evening ininstructing his wife how to save money, and she listened meekly enoughto what he told her, for she was a modest little woman, of colourlesscharacter, brought up to have no great opinion of herself, though herfather was a rich merchant; and she looked upon her husband as belongingto a superior class. Marietta found the conversation intolerable andshe generally left the couple together a quarter of an hour aftersupper was over and went to her own room, where she worked a little andlistened to Nella's prattle, and sometimes answered her. She was livingin a state of half-suspended thought, and was glad to let the time passas it would, provided it passed at all. 

This evening, as usual, she bade her brother and his wife good night, and went upstairs. Nella had learned to expect her and was waiting forher. To her surprise, Nella shut the window as soon as she entered. 

"Leave it open, " she said. "It is hot this evening. Why did you shut it?You never do. "

"A window is an ear, " answered Nella mysteriously. "The nights are stilland voices carry far. "

"What great secret are you going to talk of?" inquired Marietta, with acareless smile, as she drew the long pins from her hair and let theheavy braids fall behind her. 

"Bad news, bad news!" Nella repeated. "The young master is doing thingswhich he ought not to do, because they are very unjust and spiteful. Iam only a poor serving-woman, but I would bite off my fingers, likethis"--and she bit them sharply and shook them--"before I would let themdo such things!"

"What do you mean, Nella?" asked Marietta. "You must not speak of mybrother in that way. "

"Your brother! Eh, your brother!" cried Nella in a low and angry voice, quite unlike her own. "Do you know what your brother has done? He hasbeen to Messer Jacopo Contarini, your betrothed husband, and he hastold him that Zorzi is a liar, a thief and an assassin, and that he willhave him arrested to-night, if he can, and Messer Jacopo promised thathis father, who is of the Council, shall have Zorzi condemned! And yourbrother has seen the Governor of Murano in Venice, and has given him agreat letter, and the Governor said that it should not be to-night, butto-morrow. That is the sort of man your brother is. "

Marietta was standing. She had turned slowly pale while Nella wasspeaking, and grasped the back of a chair with both hands. She thoughtshe was going to faint. 

CHAPTER XVI

Marrietta's heart stood still, as she bent over the back of the chairholding it with both her hands, but feeling that she was falling. Shehad expected anything but this, when Nella had begun to speak. The blowwas sudden and heavy, and she herself had never known how much she couldbe hurt, until that moment. 

Nella looked at her in astonishment. The serving-woman had changed hermind about Zorzi of late, and had grown fond of him in taking care ofhim. But her anger against Giovanni was roused rather because what hewas about to do was an affront to his father, her master, than out ofmere sympathy for the intended victim. She was far from understandingwhat could have so deeply moved Marietta. 

"You see, " she said triumphantly, "what sort of a brother you have!"

The sound of her voice recalled the young girl just when she felt thatshe was losing consciousness. Her first instinct was to go to Zorzi andwarn him. He must escape at once. The Governor had said that it shouldbe to-morrow, but he might change his mind and send his men to-night. There was no time to be lost, she must go instantly. As she stoodupright she could see the porter's light shining through the smallgrated window, for Pasquale was still awake, but in a few minutes thelight would go out. She had often been at her own window at that hour, and had watched it, wondering whether Zorzi would work far into thenight, and whether he was thinking of her. 

It would be easy to slip out by the side door and run across. No onewould know, except Nella and Pasquale, but she would have preferred thatonly the latter should be in the secret. She was still dressed, thoughher hair was undone, and the hood of a thin silk mantle would hide that. Her mind reasoned by instantaneous flashes now, and she had full controlof herself again. She would tell Nella that she was going downstairsagain for a little while, and she would also tell her to make aninfusion of lime flowers and to bring it in half an hour and wait forher. Down the main staircase to the landing, down the narrow stairs inthe dark, out into the street--it would not take long, and she would tapvery softly at the door of the glass-house. 

When she said that she would go down again, Nella suspected nothing. Onthe contrary she thought her mistress was wise. 

"You will lead on the Signor Giovanni to talk of Zorzi, " she said. "Youwill learn something. "

"And make me a drink of lime flowers, " continued Marietta. "Thehousekeeper has plenty. "

"I know, I know, " answered Nella. "Shall you come up again soon?"

"Be here in half an hour with the drink, and wait for me. You hadbetter go for the lime flowers before the housekeeper is asleep. I willtwist my hair up again before I go down. "

Nella nodded and disappeared, for the housekeeper generally went to bedvery early. As soon as she was out of the room Marietta took her silkcloak and wrapped herself in it, drawing the end over her head, so as tohide her hair and shade her face. She was pale still, but her lips weretightly closed and her eyelids a little drawn together, as she left theroom. She met no one on the stairs. In the dark, when she reached thedoor, she could feel the oak bar that was set across it at night, andshe slipped it back into its hole in the wall, without making muchnoise. She lifted the latch and went out. 

The night was still and clear, and the young moon was setting. If anyone had been looking out she must have been seen as she crossed thewooden bridge, and she glanced nervously back at the open windows. Therewere lights in the big room, and she heard Giovanni's monotonous voice, as he talked to his wife. But there was shadow under the glass-house, and a moment later she was tapping softly at the door. Pasquale lookeddown from the grating, and was about to say something uncomplimentarywhen he recognised her, for he could see very well when there was littlelight, like most sailors. He opened the door at once, and stood aside tolet Marietta enter. 

"Shut the door quickly, " she whispered, "and do not open it for anybody, till I come out. "

Pasquale obeyed in silence. He knew as well as she did that Giovanni wassitting in the big room, with open windows, within easy hearing ofordinary sounds. A feeble light came through the open door of theporter's lodge. 

"Is Zorzi awake?" Marietta asked in a low tone, when both had gone a fewsteps down the corridor. 

"Yes. He will sleep little to-night, for the boys have not come, and hemust tend the fire himself. "

Marietta guessed that her brother had given the order, so that Zorzimight be left quite alone. 

"Pasquale, " she said, "I can trust you, I am sure. You are a good friendto Zorzi. "

The porter growled something incoherent, but she understood what hemeant. 

"Yes, " she continued, "I trust you, and you must trust me. It isabsolutely necessary that I should speak with Zorzi alone to-night. Noone knows that I have left the house, and no one must know that I havebeen here. "

The old sailor had seen much in his day, but he was profoundlyastonished at Marietta's audacity. 

"You are the mistress, " he said in a grave and quiet voice that Mariettahad never heard before. "But I am an old man, and I cannot help tellingyou that it is not seemly for a young girl to be alone at night with ayoung man, in the place where he lives. You will forgive me for sayingso, because I have served your father a long time. "

"You are quite right, " answered Marietta. "But in matters of life anddeath there is nothing seemly or unseemly. I have not time to explainall this. Zorzi is in great danger. For my father's sake I must warnhim, and I cannot stay out long. Not even Nella must know that I amhere. Be ready to let me out. "

She almost ran down the corridor to the garden. The moon was already toolow to shine upon the walk, but the beams silvered the higher leaves ofthe plane-tree, and all was clear and distinct. Even in her haste, sheglanced at the place where she had so often sat, before her life hadbegan to change. 

There was a strong light in the laboratory and the window was open. Shelooked in and saw Zorzi sitting in the great chair, his head leaningback and his eyes closed. He was so pale and worn that, she felt a sharppain as her eyes fell on his face. His crutch was beside him, and heseemed to be asleep. It was a pity to wake him, she thought, yet shecould not lose time; she had lost too much already in talking withPasquale. 

"Zorzi!" She called him softly. 

He started in his sleep, opened his eyes wide, and tried to spring upwithout his crutch, for he fancied himself in a dream. She had thrownback the drapery that covered her head and the bright light fell uponher face. It hurt her again to see how he staggered and put out his handfor his accustomed support. 

"I am coming in, " she said quietly. "Do not move, unless the door islocked. "

She met him before he was half across the room. Instinctively she putout her hand to help him back to his chair. Then she understood that hedid not need it, for he was much better now. She saw that he looked tothe window, expecting to see Nella, and she smiled. 

"I am alone, " she said. "You see how I trust you. Only Pasquale knowsthat I am here. You must sit down, and I will sit beside you, for I havemuch to say. "

He looked at her in silent wonder for a moment, happy beyond words to bewith her, but very anxious as to the reasons which could have broughther to him at such an hour and quite alone. Her manner was so quiet anddecided that it did not even occur to him to protest against her coming, and he sat down as she bade him, but on the bench, and she seatedherself in the chair, turning in it so that she could see his face. Theywere near enough to speak in low tones. 

"My brother Giovanni hates you, " she began. "He means to ruin you, if hecan, before my father comes home. "

"I am not afraid of him, " said Zorzi, speaking for the first time sinceshe had entered. "Let him do his worst. "

"You do not know what his worst is, " answered Marietta, "and he has gotMesser Jacopo Contarini to help him. You are surprised? Yes. Mybetrothed husband has promised to speak with his father against you, atonce. You know that he is of the Council. "

Zorzi's face expressed the utmost astonishment. 

"Are you quite sure that it is Jacopo Contarini?" he asked, as if unableto believe what she said. 

"Is it likely that I should be mistaken? My brother was with him thisafternoon at the palace, our gondolier heard them talking on the stairsas they came down. He told Nella, and she has just told me. Giovanniheaped all sorts of abuse on you, and Messer Jacopo agreed with all hesaid. Then they spoke of arresting you and bringing you to justice, andthey talked of the Council. After that Giovanni met the Governor ofMurano and got into his gondola, and they talked in a low tone. Mybrother gave him a sealed document, and the Governor said that it shouldnot be to-night, but to-morrow. That is all I know, but it is enough. "

Zorzi half closed his eyes for a moment, in deep thought; and in a flashhe understood that Contarini wished him out of the way, and was takingthe first means that offered to get rid of him. To keep faith with sucha man would be as foolish as to expect any faithfulness from him. Zorziopened his eyes again, and looked at the face of the woman he loved. Hisoath to the society had stood between him and her, and he knew that itwas no longer binding on him, since Jacopo Contarini was helping to sendhim to destruction. Yet now that it was gone, he saw also that it hadbeen the least of the obstacles that made up the barrier. 

"Of what do they accuse me?" he asked, after a moment's silence. "Whatcan they prove against me?"

"I cannot tell. It matters very little. Do you understand? To-morrow, ifnot to-night, the Governor's men will come here to arrest you, and ifyou have not escaped, you will be imprisoned and taken before theCouncil. They may accuse you of being involved in a conspiracy--they maytorture you. "

She shivered at the thought, and looked into his dark eyes with fear andpity. His lip curled a little disdainfully. 

"Do you think that I shall run away?" he asked. 

"You will not stay here, and let them arrest you!" cried Mariettaanxiously. 

"Your father left me here to take care of what belongs to him, and thereis much that is valuable. I thank you very much for warning me, but Iknow what your brother means to do, and I shall not go away of my ownaccord. If he can have me taken off by force, he will come here aloneand search the place. If he searches long enough, he may find what hewants. "

"Is Paolo Godi's manuscript in this room?" asked Marietta quietly. 

Zorzi stared at her in surprise. 

"How did you know that your father left it with me?" he asked. 

"He would not have entrusted it to any one else. That is natural. Mybrother wants it. Is that the reason why you will not escape? Or isthere any other?"

"That is the principal reason, " answered Zorzi. "Another is that thereis valuable glass here, which your brother would take. "

"Which he would steal, " said Marietta bitterly. "But Pasquale can buryit in the garden after you are gone. The principal thing is the book. Give it to me. I will take care of it till my father comes back. Untilthen you must hide somewhere, for it is madness to stay here. Give methe book, and let me take it away at once. "

"I cannot give it to you, " Zorzi said, with a puzzled expression whichMarietta did not understand. 

"You do not trust me, " she answered sadly. 

He did not reply at once, for the words made no impression on him whenhe heard them. He trusted her altogether, but there was a materialdifficulty in the way. He remembered how long it had taken to hide theiron box under broken glass, and he knew how long it would take to getit out again. Marietta could not stay in the laboratory, late into thenight, and yet if she did not take the box with her now, she might notbe able to take it at all, since neither she nor Nella could havecarried it to the house by day, without being seen. 

Marietta rested her elbow on the arm of the big chair, and her handsupported her chin, in an attitude of thought, as she looked steadily atZorzi's face, and her own was grave and sad. 

"You never trusted me, " she said presently. "Yet I have been a goodfriend to you, have I not?"

"A friend? Oh, much more than that!" Zorzi turned his eyes from her. "Itrust you with all my heart. "

She shook her head incredulously. 

"If you trusted me, you would do what I ask, " she said. "I have riskedsomething to help you--perhaps to save your life--who knows? Do you knowwhat would happen if my brother found me here alone with you? I shouldend my life in a convent. But if you will not save yourself, I might aswell not have come. "

"I would give you the book if I could, " answered Zorzi. "But I cannot. It is hidden in such a way that it would take a long time to get it out. That is the simple truth. Your father and I had buried it here under thestones, but somehow your brother suspected that, and I have changed thehiding-place. It took a whole morning to do it. "

Still Marietta did not quite believe that he could not give it to her ifhe chose. It seemed as if there must always be a shadow between them, when they were together, always the beginning of a misunderstanding. 

"Where is it?" she asked, after a moment's hesitation. "If you are inearnest you will tell me. "

"It is better that you should know, in case anything happens to me, "answered Zorzi. "It is buried in that big jar, in some three feet ofbroken glass. I had to take the glass out bit by bit, and put it allback again. "

As Marietta looked at the jar, a little colour rose in her face again. 

"Thank you, " she said. "I know you trust me, now. "

"I always have, " he answered softly, "and I always shall, even when youare married to Jacopo Contarini. "

"That is still far off. Let us not talk of it. You must get ready toleave this place before morning. You must take the skiff and get away tothe mainland, if you can, for till my father comes you will not be safein Venice. "

"I shall not go away, " said Zorzi firmly. "They may not try to arrest meafter all. "

"But they will, I know they will!" All her anxiety for him came back ina moment. "You must go at once! Zorzi, to please me--for my sake--leaveto-night!"

"For your sake? There is nothing I would not do for your sake, except bea coward. "

"But it is not cowardly!" pleaded Marietta. "There is nothing else to bedone, and if my father could know what you risk by staying, he wouldtell you to go, as I do. Please, please, please--"

"I cannot, " he answered stubbornly. 

"Oh, Zorzi, if you have the least friendship for me, do what I ask! Doyou not see that I am half mad with anxiety? I entreat you, I beg you, Iimplore you--"

Their eyes met, and hers were wide with fear for him, and earnestness, and they were not quite dry. 

"Do you care so much?" asked Zorzi, hardly knowing what he said. "Doesit matter so much to you what becomes of me?"

He moved nearer on the bench. Leaning towards her, where he sat, hecould rest his elbow on the broad arm of the low chair, and so look intoher face. She covered her eyes, and shook a little, and her mantleslipped from her shoulders and trembled as it settled down into thechair. He leaned farther, till he was close to her, and he tried touncover her eyes, very gently, but she resisted. His heart beat slowlyand hard, like strokes of a hammer, and his hands were shaking, when hedrew her nearer. Presently he himself sat upon the arm of the chair, holding her close to him, and she let him press her head to his breast, for she could not think any more; and all at once her hands slipped downand she was resting in the hollow of his arm, looking up to his face. 

It seemed a long time, as long as whole years, since she had meant todrop another rose in his path, or even since she had suffered him topress her hand for a moment. The whole tale was told now, in one touch, in one look, with little resistance and less fear. 

"I love you, " he said slowly and earnestly, and the words were strangeto his own ears. 

For he had never said them before, nor had she ever heard them, and whenthey are spoken in that way they are the most wonderful words in theworld, both to speak and to hear. 

The look he had so rarely seen was there now, and there was no care tohide what was in her eyes, for she had told him all, without a word, aswomen can. 

"I have loved you very long, " he said again, and with one hand hepressed back her hair and smoothed it. 

"I know it, " she answered, gazing at him with lips just parted. "But Ihave loved you longer still. "

"How could I guess it?" he asked. "It seems so wonderful, so verystrange!"

"I could not say it first. " She smiled. "And yet I tried to tell youwithout words. "

"Did you?"

She nodded as her head lay in his arm, and closed her smiling lipstightly, and nodded again. 

"You would not understand, " she said. "You always made it hard for me. "

"Oh, if I had only known!"

She lay quietly on his arm for a few seconds, and neither spoke. Onlythe low roar of the furnace was heard in the hot stillness. Mariettalooked up steadily into his face, with unwinking eyes. 

"How you look at me!" he said, with a happy smile. 

"I have often wanted to look at you like this, " she answered gravely. "But until you had told me, how could I?"

He bent down rather timidly, but drawn to her by a power he could notresist. His first kiss touched her forehead lightly, with a sort ofboyish reverence, while a thrill ran through every nerve and fibre ofhis body. But she turned in his arms and threw her own suddenly roundhis neck, and in an instant their lips met. 

Zorzi was in a dream, where Marietta alone was real. All thought andrecollection of danger vanished, the very room was not the laboratorywhere he had so long lived and worked, and thought and suffered. Thewalls were gold, the stone pavement was a silken carpet, the shadowysmoke-stained beams were the carved ceiling of a palace, he was himselfthe king and master of the whole world, and he held all his kingdom inhis arms. 

"You understand now, " Marietta said at last, holding his face before herwith her hands. 

"No, " he answered lovingly. "I do not understand, I will not even try. If I do, I shall open my eyes, and it will suddenly be daylight, and Ishall put out my hands and find nothing! I shall be alone, in my room, just awake and aching with a horrible longing for the impossible. You donot know what it is to dream of you, and wake in the grey dawn! Youcannot guess what the emptiness is, the loneliness!"

"I know it well, " said Marietta. "I have been perfectly happy, talkingto you under the plane-tree, your hand in mine, and mine in yours, oureyes in each other's eyes, our hearts one heart! And then, all at once, there was Nella, standing at the foot of my bed with a big dish in herhands, laughing at me because I had been sleeping so soundly! Oh, sometimes I could kill her for waking me!"

She drew his face to hers, with a little laugh that broke off short. Fora kiss is a grave matter. 

"How much time we have wasted in all these months!" she said presently. "Why would you never understand?"

"How could I guess that you could ever love me?" Zorzi asked. 

"I guessed that you loved me, " objected Marietta. "At least, " she added, correcting herself, "I was quite sure of it for a little while. Then Idid not believe it all. If I had believed it quite, they should neverhave betrothed me to Jacopo Contarini!"

The name recalled all realities to Zorzi, though she spoke it verycarelessly, almost with scorn. Zorzi sighed and looked up at last, andstared at the wall opposite. 

"What is it?" asked Marietta quickly. "Why do you sigh?"

"There is reason enough. Are you not betrothed to him, as you say?"

Marietta straightened herself suddenly, and made him look at her. Aquick light was in her eyes, as she spoke. 

"Do you know what you are saying? Do you think that if I meant to marryMesser Jacopo, I should be here now, that I should let you hold me inyour arms, that I would kiss you? Do you really believe that?"

"I could not believe it, " Zorzi answered. "And yet--"

"And yet you almost do!" she cried. "What more do you need, to know thatI love you, with all my heart and soul and will, and that I mean to beyour wife, come what may?"

"How is it possible?" asked Zorzi almost disconsolately. "How could youever marry me? What am I, after all, compared with you? I am not even aVenetian! I am a stranger, a waif, a man with neither name nor fortune!And I am half a cripple, lame for life! How can you marry me? At thefirst word of such a thing your father will join his son against me, Ishall be thrown into prison on some false charge and shall never comeout again, unless it be to be hanged for some crime I never committed. "

"There is a very simple way of preventing all those dreadful things, "answered Marietta. 

"I wish I could find it. "

"Take me with you, " she said calmly. 

Zorzi looked at her in dumb surprise, for she could not have saidanything which he had expected less. 

"Listen to me, " she continued. "You cannot stay here--or rather, youshall not, for I will not let you. No, you need not smile and shake yourhead, for I will find some means of making you go. "

"You will find that hard, dear love, for that is the only thing I willnot do for you. "

"Is it? We shall see. You are very brave, and you are very, veryobstinate, but you are not very sensible, for you are only a man, afterall. In the first place, do you imagine that even if Giovanni were tospend a whole week in this room, he would think of looking for the boxamongst the broken glass?"

"No, I do not think he would, " answered Zorzi. "That was sensible of me, at all events. " She laughed. 

"Oh, you are clever enough! I never said that you were not that. I onlysaid that you had no sense. As for instance, since you are sure that mybrother cannot find the box, why do you wish to stay here?"

"I promised your father that I would. I will keep my promise, at allcosts. "

"In which of two ways shall you be of more use to my father? If you hidein a safe place till he comes home, and if you then come back to him andhelp him as before? Or if you allow yourself to be thrown into prison, and tried, and perhaps hanged or banished, for something you never did?And if any harm comes to you, what do you think would become of me? Doyou see? I told you that you had no common sense. Now you will believeme. But if all this is not enough to make you go, I have another plan, which you cannot possibly oppose. "

"What is that?" asked Zorzi. 

"I will go alone. I will cross the bridge, and take the skiff, and rowmyself over to Venice and from Venice I will get to the mainland. "

"You could not row the skiff, " objected Zorzi, amused at the idea. "Youwould fall off, or upset her. "

"Then I should drown, " returned Marietta philosophically. "And you wouldbe sorry, whether you thought it was your fault or not. Is that true?"

"Yes. "

"Very well. If you will not promise me faithfully to escape to themainland to-night, I swear to you by all that you and I believe in, andmost of all by our love for each other, that I will do what I said, andrun away from my father's house, to-night. But you will not let me goalone, will you?"

"No!"

"There! You see! Of course you would not let me go alone, me, a poorweak girl, who have never taken a step alone in my life, until to-night!And they say that the world is so wicked! What would become of me if youlet me go away alone?"

"If I thought you meant to do that!"

He laughed again, and drew her to him, and would have kissed her; butshe held him back and looked at him earnestly. 

"I mean it, " she said. "That is what I will do. I swear that I will. Yes--now you may. "

And she kissed him of her own accord, but quickly withdrew herself fromhis arms again. 

"You have your choice, " she said, "and you must choose quickly, for Ihave been here too long--it must be nearly half an hour since I left myroom, and Nella is waiting for me, thinking that I am with my brotherand his wife. Promise me to do what I ask, and I will go back, and whenmy father comes home I will tell him the whole troth. That is the wisestthing, after all. Or, I will go with you, if you will take me as I am. "

"No, " he answered, with an effort. "I will not take you with me. "

It cost him a hard struggle to refuse. There she was, resting againsthis arm, in the blush and wealth of unspent love, asking to go with him, who loved her better than his life. But in a quick vision he saw herwith him, she who was delicately nurtured and used from childhood to allthat care and money could give, he saw her with him, sharing his misery, his hunger and his wandering, suffering silently for love's sake, butsuffering much, and he could not bear the fancied sight. 

"I should be in your way, " she said. "Besides, they would send all overItaly to find me. "

"It is not that, " he answered. "You might starve. "

She looked up anxiously to his face. 

"And you?" she asked. "Have you no money?"

"No. How should I have money? I believe I have one piece of gold and alittle silver. It will be enough to keep me from starvation till I canget work somewhere. I can live on bread and water, as I have many atime. "

"If I had only thought!" exclaimed Marietta. "I have so much! My fatherleft me a little purse of gold that I shall never need. "

"I would not take your father's money, " answered Zorzi. "But have nofear. If I go at all, I shall do well enough. Besides, there is a man inVenice--" He stopped short, not wishing to speak of Zuan Venier. 

"You must not make any condition, " she answered, not heeding theunfinished sentence. "You must go at once. "

She rose as she spoke. 

"Every minute I stay here makes it more dangerous for me to go back, "she said. "I know that you will keep your promise. We must saygood-bye. "

He had risen, too, and stood facing her, his crutch under his arm. Inall her anxiety for his safety she had half forgotten that his wound wasbarely healed, and that he still walked with great difficulty. And now, at the thought of leaving him she forgot everything else. They had beenso cruelly short, those few minutes of perfect happiness between thelong misunderstanding that had kept them apart and the parting againthat was to separate them, perhaps for months. As they looked at eachother, they both grew pale, and in an instant Zorzi's young face lookedhaggard and his eyes seemed to grow hollow, while Marietta's filled withtears. 

"Good-bye!" she cried in a broken voice. "God keep you, my dear love!"

Then her face was buried in the hollow of his shoulder and her tearsflowed fast and burning hot. 

CHAPTER XVII

It was over at last, and Zorzi stood alone by the table, for Mariettawould not let him go with her to the door. She could not trust herselfbefore Pasquale, even in the gloom. He stood by the table, leaning on itheavily with one hand, and trying to realise all that had come into hislonely life within the half hour, and all that might happen to himbefore morning. The glorious and triumphant certainty which first lovebrings to every man when it is first returned, still swelled his heartand filled the air he breathed, so that while breathing deep, he couldnot breathe enough. In such a mood all dangers dwindled, all obstaclessank out of sight as shadows sink at dawn. And yet the parting had hurthim, as if his body had been wrenched in the middle by some resistlessforce. 

Women feel parting differently. Shall we men ever understand them? To aman, first love is a victory, to a girl it is a sweet wonder, and a joy, and a tender longing, all in one. And when partings come, as come theymust in life until death brings the last, it is always the man wholeaves, and the woman who is left, even though in plain fact it be theman that stays behind; and we men feel a little contemptuous pity forone who seems to cry out after the woman he loves, asking why she hasleft him, and beseeching her to come back to him, but our compassion forthe woman in like case is always sincere. In such small things there arethe great mysteries of that prime difference, which neither man norwoman can ever fully understand, but which, if not understood a little, is the cause of much miserable misunderstanding in life. 

Zorzi had to face the future at once, for it was upon him, and the oldlife was over, perhaps never to come again. He stood still, where hewas, for any useless movement was an effort, and he tried to collect histhoughts and determine just what he should do, and how it was to bedone. His eye fell on the piece of gold Giovanni had paid for thebeaker. In the morning, if he drew the iron tray further down theannealing oven, the glass would be ready to be taken out, and Giovannicould take it if he pleased, for he knew whose it was. But starvationitself could not have induced Zorzi to take the money now. He turnedfrom it with contempt. All he needed was enough to buy bread for a week, and mere bread cost little. That little he had, and it must suffice. Besides that he would make a bundle small enough to be easily carried. His chief difficulty would be in rowing the skiff. To use the single oarat all it was almost indispensable to stand, and to stand chiefly on theright foot, since the single rowlock, as in every Venetian boat, was onthe starboard side and could not be shifted to port. He fancied that insome way he could manage to sit on the thwart, and use the oar as apaddle. In any case he must get away, since flight was the wisestcourse, and since he had promised Marietta that he would go. Hisreflections had occupied scarce half a minute. 

He began to walk towards the small room where he slept, and where hekept his few possessions. He had taken two steps from the table, when hestopped short, turned round and listened. 

He heard the sound of light footsteps, running along the path and comingnearer. In another moment Marietta was at the window, her face deadlywhite, her eyes wide with fear. 

"They are there!" she cried wildly. "They have come to-night! Hideyourself quickly! Pasquale will keep them out as long as he can. "

She had found Pasquale stoutly refusing to open the door. Outside stooda lieutenant of the archers with half-a-dozen men, demanding admittancein the name of the Governor. Pasquale answered that they might get in byforce if they could, but that he had no orders to open the door to them. The lieutenant was in doubt whether his warrant authorised him to breakin or not. 

Zorzi knew that Marietta was in even more danger than he. The situationwas desperate and the time short. She was still at the window, lookingin. 

"You know your way to the main furnace rooms, " Zorzi said quickly, butwith great coolness. "Run in there, and stand still in the dark tilleverything is quiet. Then slip out and get home as quickly aspossible. "

"But you? What will become of you?" asked Marietta in an agony ofanxiety. 

"If they do not take me at once, they will search all the buildings andwill find you, " answered Zorzi. "I will go and meet them, while you arehiding. "

He opened the door beside the window and put his crutch forward upon thepath. At the same moment the sound of a tremendous blow echoed down thedark corridor. The moon was low but had not set and there was stilllight in the garden. 

"Quickly!" Zorzi exclaimed. "They are breaking down the door. "

But Marietta clung to him almost savagely, when he tried to push her inthe direction of the main furnace rooms on the other side of the garden. 

"I will not leave you, " she cried. "They shall take me with you, wherever you are going!"

She grasped his hand with both her hands, and then, as he moved, sheslipped her arm round him. At the street door the pounding blowssucceeded each other in quick succession, but apparently without effect. 

Zorzi saw that he must make her understand her extreme danger. He tookhold of her wrist with a quiet strength that recalled her to herself, and there was a tone of command in his voice when he spoke. 

"Go at once, " he said. "It will be worse for both of us if you are foundhere. They will hang me for stealing the master's daughter as well ashis secrets. Go, dear love, go! Good-bye!"

He kissed her once, and then gently pushed her from him. She understoodthat she must obey, and that if he spoke of his own danger it was forthe sake of her good name. With a gesture of despair she turned and lefthim, crossed the patch of light without looking back, and disappearedinto the shadows beyond. She was safe now, for he would go and meet thearchers, opening the door to give himself up. Using his crutch he swunghimself along into the dark corridor without another moment'shesitation. 

But matters did not turn out as he expected. When the force came downthe footway from the dilution of San Piero, Giovanni was still talkingto his wife about household economies and censuring what he called thereckless extravagance of his father's housekeeping. As he talked, heheard the even tread of a number of marching men. He sprang to his feetand went to the window, for he guessed who was coming, though he couldnot imagine why the Governor had not waited till the next day, as hadbeen agreed. He could not know that on leaving him Jacopo Contarini hadseen his father and had told him of Zorzi's misdeeds; and that theGovernor had supped with old Contarini, who was an uncompromisingchampion of the law, besides being one of the Ten and therefore theGovernor's superior in office; and that Contarini had advised that Zorzishould be taken on that same night, as he might be warned of his dangerand find means to escape. Moreover, Contarini offered a trusty and swiftoarsman to take the order to Murano, and the Governor wrote it on thesupper table, between two draughts of Greek wine, which he drank from agoblet made by Angelo Beroviero himself in the days when he still workedat the art. 

In half an hour the warrant was in the hands of the officer, whoimmediately called out half-a-dozen of his men and marched them down tothe glass-house. 

Giovanni saw them stop and knock at the door, and he heard Pasquale'sgruff inquiry. 

"In the Governor's name, open at once!" said the officer. 

"Any one can say that, " answered the porter. "In the devil's name gohome and go to bed! Is this carnival time, to go masquerading by thelight of the moon and waking up honest people?"

"Silence!" roared the lieutenant. "Open the door, or it will be theworse for you. "

"It will be the worse for you, if the Signor Giovanni hears thisdisturbance, " answered Pasquale, who could see Giovanni at the windowopposite in the moonlight. "Either get orders from him, or go home andleave me in holy peace, you band of braying jackasses, you mob ofblobber-lipped Barbary apes, you pack of doltish, droiling, dodderedjoltheads! Be off!"

This eloquence, combined with Pasquale's assured manner, caused thelieutenant to hesitate before breaking down the door, an operation forwhich he had not been prepared, and for which he had brought no enginesof battery. 

"Can you get in?" he inquired of his men, without deigning to answer theporter's invectives. "If not, let one of you go for a sledge hammer. Try it with the butts of your halberds against the lock, one, two, threeand all at once. "

"Oh, break down the door!" cried Pasquale derisively. "It is of oak andiron, and it cost good money, and you shall pay for it, you lubberlyours. "

But the men pounded away with a good will. 

"Open the door!" cried Giovanni from the opposite window, at the top ofhis lungs. 

The sight of the destruction of property for which he might have toaccount to his father was very painful to him. But he could not makehimself heard in the terrific din, or else Pasquale suspected the truthand pretended that he could not hear. The porter had seen Marietta amoment in the gloom, and he knew that she had gone back to warn Zorzi. He hoped to give them both time to hide themselves, and he now retiredfrom the grating and began to strengthen the door, first by putting twomore heavy oak bars in their places across it near the top and bottom, and further by bringing the scanty furniture from his lodge and pilingit up against the panels. 

Meanwhile the pounding continued at a great rate, and Giovanni thoughtit better to go down and interfere in person, since he could not makehimself heard. The servants were all roused by this time, and many headswere looking out of upper windows, not only from Beroviero's house, butfrom the houses higher up, beyond the wooden bridge. Two men who werewalking up the footway from the opposite direction stopped at a littledistance and looked on, their hoods drawn over their eyes. 

Giovanni came out hurriedly and crossed the bridge. He laid his hand onthe lieutenant's shoulder anxiously and spoke close to his ear, for thepounding was deafening. The six men had strapped their halberds firmlytogether in a solid bundle with their belts, and standing three on eachside they swung the whole mass of wood and iron like a battering ram, inregular time. 

"Stop them, sir! Stop them, pray!" cried Giovanni. "I will have the dooropened for you. "

Suddenly there was silence as the officer caught one of his men by thearm and bade them all wait. 

"Who are you, sir?" he inquired. 

"I am Giovanni Beroviero, " answered Giovanni, sure that his name wouldinspire respect. 

The officer took off his cap politely and then replaced it. The two menwho were looking on nudged each other. 

"I have a warrant to arrest a certain Zorzi, " began the lieutenant. 

"I know! It is quite right, and he is within, " answered Giovanni. "Pasquale!" he called, standing on tiptoe under the grating. "Pasquale!Open the door at once for these gentlemen. "

"Gentlemen!" echoed one of the men softly, with a low laugh and digginghis elbow into his companion's side. 

No one else spoke for a moment. Then Pasquale looked through thegrating. 

"What did you say?" he asked. 

"I said open the door at once!" answered Giovanni. "Can you notrecognise the officers of the law when you see them?"

"No, " grunted Pasquale, "I have never seen much of them. Did you say Iwas to open the door?"

"Yes!" cried Giovanni angrily, for he wished to show his zeal before theofficer. "Blockhead!" he added with emphasis, as Pasquale disappearedagain and was presumably out of hearing. 

They all heard him dragging the furniture away again, the box-bed andthe table and the old chair. 

Zorzi came up as Pasquale was clearing the stuff away. 

"They want you, " said the old sailor, seeing him and hearing him at thesame time. "What have you been doing now? Where is the young lady?"

"In the main furnace room, " whispered Zorzi. "Do not let them go therewhatever they do. "

Pasquale gave vent to his feelings in a low voice, as he dragged thelast things back and began to unbar the door. Zorzi leaned against thewall, for his lameness prevented him from helping. At last the door wasopened, and he saw the figures of the men outside against the light. Hewent forward as quickly as he could, pushing past Pasquale to get out. He stood on the threshold, leaning on his crutch. 

"I am Zorzi, " he said quietly. 

"Zorzi the Dalmatian, called the Ballarin?" asked the lieutenant. 

"Yes, yes!" cried Giovanni, anxious to hasten matters, "They call himthe dancer because he is lame. This is that foreign liar, that thief, that assassin! Take him quickly!"

The archers, who in the changes of time had become halberdiers, haddropped the bundle of spears they had made for a battering-ram. Two ofthem took Zorzi by the arms roughly, and prepared to drag him along withthem. He made no resistance, but objected quietly. 

"I can walk better, if you do not hold me, " he said. "I cannot run away, as you see. "

"Let him walk between you, " ordered the officer. "Good night, sir, " hesaid to Giovanni. 

Two of the men lifted the bundle of halberds and began to carry itbetween them, trying to undo the straps as they walked, for they couldnot stay behind. Giovanni saluted the officer and stood aside for theparty to pass. The two men who had looked on had separated, and one hadalready gone forward and disappeared beyond the bridge. The otherlingered, apparently still interested in the proceedings. Pasquale, dumbwith rage at last, stood in the doorway. 

"Let me pass, " said Giovanni, as soon as the archers had gone on a fewsteps, surrounding Zorzi. 

With a growl, Pasquale came out and stood on the pavement a moment, andGiovanni went in. Instantly, the man who had lingered made a steptowards the porter, whispered something in his ear, and then made off asfast as he could in the direction taken by the archers. Pasquale lookedafter him in surprise, only half understanding the meaning of what hehad said. Then he went in, but left the door ajar. The people who hadbeen looking out of the windows of Beroviero's house had disappeared, when they had seen that Giovanni was on the footway. All was silent now;only, far off, the tramp of the archers could still be heard. 

They could not go very fast, with Zorzi in their midst, but the two menwho were busy unfastening the bundle of halberds lagged in the rear, talking in a low voice. They did not notice quick footsteps behind them, but they heard a low whistle, answered instantly by another, just as themain party was nearing the corner by the church of San Piero. That wasthe last the two loiterers remembered, for at the next instant they layin a heap upon the halberds, which had fallen upon the pavement with atremendous clatter. A couple of well-delivered blows with a stout stickhad thoroughly stunned them almost at the same instant. It would be sometime before they recovered their senses. 

While the man who had whispered to Pasquale was doing effectual work inthe rear, his companion was boldly attacking the main party in front. Asthe lieutenant stopped short and turned his head when the halberdsdropped, a blow under the jaw from a fist like a sledge hammer almostlifted him off his feet and sent him reeling till he fell senseless, half-a-dozen paces away. Before the two archers who were guarding Zorzicould defend themselves, unarmed as they were, another blow had felledone of them. The second, springing forward, was caught up like a childby his terrible assailant and whirled through the air, to fall with anoisy splash into the shallow waters of the canal. The other companionattacked the remaining two from behind with his club and knocked one ofthem down. The last sprang to one side and ran on a few steps as fast ashe could. But swifter feet followed him, and in an instant iron fingerswere clutching his throat and squeezing his breath out. He struggled amoment, and then sank down. His captor deliberately knocked him on thehead with his fist, and he rolled over like a stone. 

Utterly bewildered, Zorzi stood still, where he had stopped. Never inhis life had he dreamed that two men could dispose of seven, insomething like half a minute, with nothing but a stick for a weaponbetween them. But he had seen it with his eyes, and he was not surprisedwhen he felt himself lifted from his feet, with his crutch beside him, and carried along the footway at a sharp run, in the direction of theglass-house. His reason told him that he had been rescued and was beingquickly conveyed to a place of safety, but he could not help distrustingthe means that accomplished the end, for he had unconsciously watchedthe two men in what could hardly be called a fight, though he could notsee their faces, and a more murderous pair of ruffians he had neverseen. Men not well used to such deeds could not have done them at all, thought Zorzi, as he was borne along, his breath almost shaken out ofhim by the strong man's movements. 

All was quiet, as they passed the glass-house, and no one was lookingout, for Giovanni's wife feared him far too much to seem to be spyingupon his doings, and the servants were discreet. Only Nella, hidingbehind the flowers in Marietta's window, and supposing that Marietta waswith her sister-in-law, was watching the door of the glass-house to seewhen Giovanni would come out. She now heard the steps of the two men, running down the footway. The rescue had taken place too far away forher to hear anything but a splash in the canal. She saw that one of themen was carrying what seemed to be the body of a man. She instinctivelycrossed herself, as they ran on towards the end of the canal, and whenshe could see them no longer in the shadow, she drew back into the room, momentarily forgetting Giovanni, and already running over in her headthe wonderful conversation she was going to have with her mistress assoon as the young girl came back to her room. 

Pasquale, meanwhile, withdrew his feet from the old leathern slippers hewore, and noiselessly stole down the corridor and along the garden path, to find out what Giovanni was doing. When he came to the laboratory, hesaw that the window was now shut, as well as the door, and that Giovannihad set the lamp on the floor behind the further end of the annealingoven. Its bright light shot upwards to the dark ceiling, leaving thefront of the laboratory almost in the dark. Pasquale listened and heheard the sharp tapping of a hammer on stone. He understood at once thatGiovanni had shut himself in to search for something, and wouldtherefore be busy some time. 

Without noise he crossed the garden to the entrance of the main furnaceroom and went into the passage. 

"Come out quickly!" he whispered, as his seaman's eyes made outMarietta's figure in a gloom that would have been total darkness to alandsman; and he took hold of the girl's arm to lead her away. 

"Your brother is in the laboratory, and will not come out, " hewhispered. "By this time Zorzi may be safe. "

"Safe!" She spoke the word aloud, in her relief. 

"Hush, for heaven's sake. The door is open. You can get home now withoutbeing seen. Make no noise. "

She followed him quickly. They had to cross the patch of dim light inthe garden, and she glanced at the closed window of the laboratory. Ithad all happened as Zorzi had foreseen, and Giovanni was alreadysearching for the manuscript. The only thing she could not understandwas that Zorzi should have escaped the archers. Even as she crossed thegarden, the two man were passing the door, bearing Zorzi he knew notwhere, but away from the nearest danger. A moment later she was on thefootway, hurrying towards the bridge. Pasquale stood watching her, to besure that she was safe, and he glanced up at the windows, too, fearinglest some one might still be looking out. 

But chance had saved Marietta this time. She carefully barred the sidedoor after she had gone in, and groped her way up the dark stairs. Onthe landing there was light from below, and she paused for breath, herbosom heaving as she leaned a moment on the balustrade. She passed onehand over her brows, as if to bring herself back to presentconsciousness, and then went quickly on. 

"Safe, " she repeated under her breath as she went, "safe, safe, safe!"

It was to give herself courage, for she could hardly believe it, thoughshe knew that Pasquale would not deceive her and must have some stronggood reason for what he said. There had not been time to question him. 

All he knew himself was that a man whose face he could not see hadwhispered to him that Zorzi was in no danger. But he had recognised theother man who had gone up the footway first, in spite of his short cloakand hood, and he felt well assured that Charalambos Aristarchi couldthrow the officer and his six men into the canal without anybody's help, if he chose, though why the Greek ruffian was suddenly inspired tointerfere on Zorzi's behalf was a mystery past his comprehension. 

Marietta entered her room, and Nella, who had been revelling in thecoming conversation, was suddenly very busy, stirring the drink of limeflowers which Marietta had ordered. She was so sure that her mistresshad been all the time in the house, and so anxious not to have itthought that she could possibly have been idle, even for a moment, thatshe looked intently into the cup and stirred the contents in a mostconscientious manner. Marietta turned from her almost immediately andbegan to undo the braids of hair, that Nella might comb it out and plaitit again for the night. Nella immediately began to talk, and to tell allthat she had seen from the window, with many other things which she hadnot seen. 

"But of course you were looking out, too, " she said presently. "Theywere all at the windows for some time. "

"No, " Marietta answered. "I was not looking out. "

"Well, it was to-night, and not to-morrow, you see. Do you think theGovernor is stupid? If he had waited till to-morrow, we should have toldZorzi. Poor Zorzi! I saw them taking him away, loaded with chains. "

"In chains!" cried Marietta, starting painfully. 

"I could not see the chains, " continued Nella apologetically, "but I amsure they were there. It was too dark to see. Poor Zorzi! Poor Zorzi! Bythis time he is in the prison under the Governor's house, and he wishesthat he had never been born. A little straw, a little water! That is allhe has. "

Marietta moved in her chair, as if something hurt her, but she knew thatit would be unwise to stop the woman's talk. Besides, Nella wasevidently sorry for Zorzi, though she thought his arrest veryinteresting. She went on for a long time, combing more and more slowly, after the manner of talkative maids, when they fear that their work maybe finished before their story. But for Pasquale's reassuring words, Marietta felt that she must have gone mad. Zorzi was safe, somewhere, and he was not in the Governor's prison, on the straw. She told herselfso again and again as Nella went on. 

"There is one thing I did not tell you, " said the latter, with a suddenincrease of vigour at the thought. 

"I think you have told me enough, Nella, " said Marietta wearily. "I amvery tired. "

"You cannot go to bed till I have plaited your hair, " answered Nellamercilessly, but at the same time laying down the comb. "Just before youcame in, I was looking out of the window. It was just an accident, for Iwas very busy with your things, of course. Well, as I was saying, inpassing I happened to glance out of the window, and I saw--guess what Isaw, my pretty lady!"

Marietta trembled, thinking that Nella had seen her, and perhapsrecognised her, and was about to bring her garrulous tale to a dramaticclimax by telling her so. 

"Perhaps you saw a woman, " she suggested desperately. 

"A woman indeed!" cried Nella. "That must be a nice woman who would beseen in the street at such a time of night, and the Governor's archersthere, too! Woman? I would not look at such a woman, I tell you! No. What I saw was this, since you cannot guess. There came two big men, running fast, and they were carrying a dead body between them! Eh! Theywere at no good, I tell you. One could see that. "

Marietta could bear no more, now. She bent her head and bit her fingerto keep herself from crying out. 

"If you will not be still, how in the world am I to plait your hair?"asked Nella querulously. 

"Do it quickly, please, " Marietta succeeded in saying. "I am so verytired to-night. "

Her head bent still further forward. 

"Indeed, " said Nella, much annoyed that her tale should not have beenreceived with more interest, "you seem to be half asleep already. "

But Nella was much too truly attached to her mistress not to feel someanxiety when she saw her white face and noticed how uncertainly shewalked. Nella had her in bed at last, however, and gave her more of thesoothing drink, smoothed the cool pillow under her head, looked roundthe room to see that all was in order before going away, then took thelamp and at last went out. 

"Good night, my pretty lady, " said Nella cheerfully from the door, "goodrest and pleasant dreams!"

She was gone at last, and she would not come back before morning. 

Marietta sat up in bed in the dark and pressed her hands to her templesin utter despair. 

"I shall go mad! I shall go mad!" she whispered to herself. 

She remembered that she had left her light silk mantle in thelaboratory, on the great chair. 

CHAPTER XVIII

Aristarchi's interference to rescue Zorzi had not been disinterested, and so far as justice was concerned he was quite ready to believe thatthe Dalmatian had done all the things of which he was accused. The factwas not of the slightest importance in the situation. It was much moreto the point that in the complicated and dangerous plan which the Greekcaptain and Arisa were carrying out, Zorzi could be of use to them, without his own knowledge. As has been told, the two had decided that hewas in love with Marietta, and she with him. The rest followednaturally. 

After meeting his father and telling him Giovanni's story, JacopoContarini had gone to the house of the Agnus Dei for an hour, and duringthat time he had told Arisa everything, according to his wont. No soonerwas he gone than Arisa made the accustomed signal and Aristarchiappeared at her window, for it was then already night. He judged rightlythat there was no time to be lost, and having stopped at his house totake his trusted man, the two rowed themselves over to Murano, and werewatching the glass-house from, a distance, fully half an hour before thearchers appeared. 

The officer and his men came to their senses, one by one, bruised andterrified. The man who had been thrown into the shallow canal got uponhis feet, standing up to his waist in the water, sputtering and coughingfrom the ducking. Before he tried to gain the shore, he crossed himselfthree times and repeated all the prayers he could remember, in a greathurry, for he was of opinion that Satan must still be in theneighbourhood. It was not possible that any earthly being should havepicked him up like a puppy and flung him fully ten feet from the spotwhere he had been standing. He struggled to the bank, his feet sinkingat each step in the slimy bottom; and after that he was forced to wadesome thirty yards to the stairs in front of San Piero before he couldget out of the water, a miserable object, drenched from head to foot andcoated with black mud from his knees down. Yet he was in a better casethan his companions. 

They came to themselves slowly, the officer last of all, forAristarchi's blow under the jaw had nearly killed him, whereas the otherfive men had only received stunning blows on different parts of theirthick skulls. In half an hour they were all on their feet, though someof them were very unsteady, and in a forlorn train they made the best oftheir way back to the Governor's palace. Their discomfiture had been sosudden and complete that none of them had any idea as to the number oftheir assailants; but most of them agreed that as they came within sightof the church, Zorzi had slackened his pace, and that an unholy firehad issued from his eyes, his mouth and his nostrils, while he madestrange signs in the air with his crutch, and suddenly grew to agigantic stature. The devils who were his companions had immediatelyappeared in great numbers, and though the archers had fought againsttheir supernatural adversaries with the courage of heroes, they had beenstruck down senseless where they stood; and when they had recoveredtheir sight and their other understanding, Zorzi had long since vanishedto the kingdom of darkness which was his natural abode. 

Those things the officer told the Governor on the next day, and the mensolemnly swore to them, and they were all written down by the officialscribe. But the Governor raised one eyebrow a little, and the corners ofhis mouth twitched strangely, though he made no remark upon what hadbeen said. He remembered, however, that Giovanni had advised him to senda very strong force to arrest the lame young man, from which he arguedthat Zorzi had powerful friends, and that Giovanni knew it. He thenvisited the scene of the fight, and saw that there were drops of bloodon dry stones, which was not astonishing and which gave no clue whateverto the identity of the rescuers. He pointed out quietly to his guide, the man who had only received a ducking, that there were no signs offire on the pavement nor on the walls of the houses, which was a strongargument against any theory of diabolical intervention; and this the manwas reluctantly obliged to admit. The strangest thing, however, wasthat the people who lived near by seemed to have heard no noise, thoughone old man, who slept badly, believed that he had heard the clatter ofwood and iron falling together, and then a splashing in the canal; andindeed those were almost the only sounds that had disturbed the night. The whole affair was shrouded in mystery, and the Governor, who knewthat his men were to be trusted as far as their limited intelligencecould go, resolved to refer the matter to the Council of Ten withoutdelay. He therefore bade the archers hold their tongues and refuse totalk of their misadventure. 

On that night Giovanni had suffered the greatest disappointment heremembered in his whole life. He had found without much trouble thestone that rang hollow, but it had cost him great pains to lift it, andthe sweat ran down from his forehead and dropped upon the slab as heslowly got it up. His heart beat so that he fancied he could hear it, both from the effort he made, and from his intense excitement, now thatthe thing he had most desired in the world was within his grasp. At lastthe big stone was raised upright, and the light of the lamp that stoodon the floor fell slanting across the dark hole. Giovanni brought thelamp to the edge and looked in. He could not see the box, but a quantityof loose earth lay there, under which it was doubtless buried. He kneltdown and began to scoop the earth out, using his two hands together. Then he thrust one hand in, and felt about for the box. There wasnothing there. He cleared out the cavity thoroughly, and tried to loosenthe soil at the bottom, tearing his nails in his excitement. It must bethere, he was sure. 

But it was not. When he realised that he had been tricked, he collapsed, kneeling as he was, and sat upon his heels, and his crooked hands alldark with the dusty earth clutched at the stones beside him. He remainedthus a long time, staring at the empty hole. Then caution, which waseven stronger in his nature than greed, brought him to himself. His thinface was grey and haggard as he carefully swept the earth back to itsplace, removing all traces of what he had done. Then he knew how foolishhe had been to let Zorzi know what he had partly heard and partlyguessed. 

Of course, as soon as Zorzi understood that Giovanni had found out wherethe book was, he had taken it out and put it away in a safer place, towhich Giovanni had no clue at all. Zorzi was diabolically clever, andwould not have been so foolish as to hide the treasure again in the sameroom or in the same way. It was probably in the garden now, but it wouldtake a strong man a day or two to dig up all the earth there to thedepth at which the book must have been buried. Zorzi must have done thework at night, after the furnaces were out, and when there were no nightboys to watch him. But then, the boys had been feeding the fires in thelaboratory until the previous night, and it followed that he must havebailed the box this very evening. 

Giovanni got the slab back into its place without injuring it, and herubbed the edges with dust, and swept the place with a broom, as Zorzihad done twice already. Then he took the lamp and set it on the tablebefore the window. The light fell on the gold piece that lay there. Hetook it, examined it carefully, and slipped it into his wallet with asort of mechanical chuckle. He glanced at the furnace next, andrecollected that the precious pieces Zorzi had made were in theannealing oven. But that did not matter, for the fires would now go outand the whole furnace would slowly cool, so that the annealing would bevery perfect. No one but he could enter the laboratory, now that Zorziwas gone, and he could take the pieces to his own house at his leisure. They were substantial proofs of Zorzi's wickedness in breaking the lawsof Venice, however, and it would perhaps be wiser to leave them wherethey were, until the Governor should take cognizance of their existence. 

His first disappointment turned to redoubled hatred of the man who hadcaused it, and whom it was safer to hate now than formerly, since he wasin the clutches of the law; moreover, the defeat of Giovanni's hopes wasby no means final, after the first shock was over. He could make anexcuse for having the garden dug over, on pretence of improving itduring his father's absence; the more easily, as he had learned that thegarden had always been under Zorzi's care, and must now be cultivatedby some one else. Giovanni did not believe it possible that the preciousbox had been taken away altogether. It was therefore near, and he couldfind it, and there would be plenty of time before his father's return. Nevertheless, he looked about the laboratory and went into the smallroom where Zorzi had slept. There was water there, and Spanish soap, andhe washed his hands carefully, and brushed the dust from his coat andfrom the knees of his fine black hose. He knew that his patient wifewould be waiting for him when he went back to the house. 

He searched Zorzi's room carefully, but could find nothing. An earthenjar containing broken white glass stood in one corner. The narrowtruckle-bed, with its single thin mattress and flattened pillow, allneat and trim, could not have hidden anything. On a line stretchedacross from wall to wall a few clothes were hanging--a pair ofdisconsolate brown hose, the waistband on the one side of the linehanging down to meet the feet on the other, two clean shirts, and aSunday doublet. On the wall a cap with a black eagle's feather hung by anail. Here and there on the white plaster, Zorzi had roughly sketchedwith a bit of charcoal some pieces of glass which he had thought ofmaking. That was all. The floor was paved with bricks, and a shortexamination showed that none of them had been moved. 

Giovanni turned back into the laboratory, stood a moment lookingdisconsolately at the big stone which it had cost him so much fruitlesslabour to move, and then passed round by the other side of the furnace, along the wall against which the bench and the easy chair were placed. His eye fell on Marietta's silk mantle, which lay as when it had slippeddown from her shoulders, the skirts of it trailing on the floor. Hisbrows contracted suddenly. He came nearer, felt the stuff, and was surethat he recognised it. Then he looked at it, as it lay. It had theunmistakable appearance of having been left, as it had been, by theperson who had last sat in the chair. 

Two explanations of the presence of the mantle in the laboratorysuggested themselves to him at once, but the idea that Marietta couldherself have been seated in the chair not long ago was so absurd that heat once adopted the other. Zorzi had stolen the mantle, and used it forhimself in the evening, confident that no one would see him. To-night hehad been surprised and had left it in the chair, another and perhaps acrowning proof of his atrocious crimes. Was he not a thief, as well as aliar and an assassin? Giovanni knew well enough that the law woulddistinguish between stealing the art of glass-making, which was merely acivil offence, though a grave one, and stealing a mantle of silk whichhe estimated to be worth at least two or three pieces of gold. That wastheft, and it was criminal, and it was one of many crimes which Zorzihad undoubtedly committed. The hangman would twist the rest out of himwith the rack and the iron boot, thought Giovanni gleefully. TheGovernor should see the mantle with his own eyes. 

Before he went away, he was careful to fasten the window securelyinside, and he locked the door after him, taking the key. He carried thebrass lamp with him, for the corridor was very dark and the night wasquite still. 

Pasquale was seated on the edge of his box-bed in his little lodge whenGiovanni came to the door. He was more like a big and very uglywatch-dog crouching in his kennel than anything else. 

"Let no one try to go into the laboratory, " said Giovanni, setting downthe lamp. "I have locked it myself. "

Pasquale snarled something incomprehensible, by way of reply, and roseto let Giovanni out. He noticed that the latter had brought nothing butthe lamp with him. When the door was open Pasquale looked across at thehouse, and saw that although there was still light in some of the otherwindows, Marietta's window was now dark. She was safe in bed, forGiovanni's search had occupied more than an hour. 

Marietta might have breathed somewhat more freely if she had known thather brother did not even suspect her of having been to the laboratory, but the knowledge would have been more than balanced by a still greateranxiety if she had been told that Zorzi could be accused of a commontheft. 

She sat up in the dark and pressed her throbbing temples with her hands. She thought, if she thought at all, of getting up again and going backto the glass-house. Pasquale would let her in, of course, and she couldget the mantle back. But there was Nella, in the next room, and Nellaseemed to be always awake, and would hear her stirring and come in toknow if she wanted anything. Besides, she was in the dark. The nightlight burned always in Nella's room, a tiny wick supported by a bit ofsplit cork in an earthen cup of oil, most carefully tended, for if itwent out, it could only be lighted by going down to the hall where alarge lamp burned all night. 

Marietta laid her head upon the pillow and tried to sleep, repeatingover and over again to herself that Zorzi was safe. But for a long timethe thought of the mantle haunted her. Giovanni had found it, of course, and had brought it back with him. In the morning he would send for herand demand an explanation, and she would have none to give. She wouldhave to admit that she had been in the laboratory--it mattered littlewhen--and that she had forgotten her mantle there. It would be uselessto deny it. 

Then all at once she looked the future in the face, and she saw a littlelight. She would refuse to answer Giovanni's questions, and when herfather came back she would tell him everything. She would tell himbravely that nothing could make her marry Contarini, that she lovedZorzi and would marry him, or no one. The mantle would probably beforgotten in the angry discussion that would follow. She hoped so, foreven her father would never forgive her for having gone alone at nightto find Zorzi. If he ever found it out, he would make her spend the restof her life in a convent, and it would break his heart that she shouldhave thus cast all shame to the winds and brought disgrace on his oldage. It never occurred to her that he could look upon it in any otherway. 

She dreaded to think of the weeks that might pass before he returned. Hehad spoken of making a long journey and she knew that he had gonesouthward to Rimini to please the great Sigismondo Malatesta, who hadheard of Beroviero's stained glass windows and mosaics in Florence andNaples, and would not be outdone in the possession of beautiful things. But no one knew more than that. She was only sure that he would comeback some time before her intended marriage, and there would still betime to break it off. The thought gave her some comfort, and towardmorning she fell into an uneasy sleep. Of all who had played a part inthat eventful night she slept the least, for she had the most at stake;her fair name, Zorzi's safety, her whole future life were in thebalance, and she was sure that Giovanni would send for her in themorning. 

She awoke weary and unrefreshed when the sun was already high. Shescarcely had energy to clap her hands for Nella, and after the windowwas open she still lay listlessly on her pillow. The little woman lookedat her rather anxiously but said nothing at first, setting the big dishwith fruit and water on the table as usual, and busying herself with hermistress's clothes. She opened the great carved wardrobe, and she hungup some things and took out others, in a methodical way. 

"Where is your silk mantle?" she asked suddenly, as she missed thegarment from its accustomed place. 

"I do not know, " answered Marietta quite naturally, for she had expectedthe question. 

Her reply was literally true, since she had every reason for believingthat Giovanni had brought it back with him in the night, but could haveno idea as to where he had put it. Nella began to search anxiously, turning over everything in the wardrobe and the few things that hungover the chairs. 

"You could not have put it into the chest, could you?" she asked, pausing at the foot of the bed and looking at Marietta. 

"No. I am sure I did not, " answered the girl. "I never do. "

"Then it has been stolen, " said Nella, and her face darkened wrathfully. 

"How is such a thing possible?" asked Marietta carelessly. "It must besomewhere. "

This appeared to be certain, but Nella denied it with energy, her eyesfixed on Marietta almost as angrily as if she suspected her of havingstolen her own mantle from herself. 

"I tell you it is not, " she replied. "I have looked everywhere. It hasbeen stolen. "

"Have you looked in your own room?" inquired Marietta indifferently, andturning her head on her pillow, as if she were tired of meeting Nella'seyes, as indeed she was. 

"My own room indeed!" cried the maid indignantly. "As if I did not knowwhat is in my own room! As if your new silk mantle could hide itselfamongst my four rags!"

Why Nella and her kind, to this day, use the number four in contempt, rather than three or five, is a mystery of what one might call thepsychical side of the Italian language. Marietta did not answer. 

"It has been stolen, " Nella repeated, with gloomy emphasis. "I trust noone in this house, since your brother and his wife have been here, withtheir servants. "

"My sister-in-law was obliged to bring one of her women, " objectedMarietta. 

"She need not have brought that sour-faced shrew, who walks about thehouse all day repeating the rosary and poking her long nose into whatdoes not belong to her. But I am not afraid of the Signor Giovanni. Iwill tell the housekeeper that your mantle has been stolen, and all thewomen's belongings shall be searched before dinner, and we shall findthe mantle in that evil person's box. "

"You must do nothing of the sort, " answered Marietta in a tone ofauthority. 

She sat up in bed at last, and threw the thick braid of hair behind her, as every woman does when her hair is down, if she means to assertherself. 

"Ah, " cried Nella mockingly, "I see that you are content to lose yourbest things without looking for them! Then let us throw everything outof the window at once! We shall make a fine figure!"

"I will speak to my brother about it myself, " said Marietta. 

Indeed she thought it extremely likely that Giovanni would oblige her tospeak of it within an hour. 

"You will only make trouble among the servants, " she added. 

"Oh, as you please!" snorted Nella discontentedly. "I only tell you thatI know who took it. That is all. Please to remember that I said so, whenit is too late. And as for trouble, there is not one of us in the housewho would not like to be searched for the sake of sending yoursister-in-law's maid to prison, where she belongs!"

"Nella, " said Marietta, "I do not care a straw about the mantle. I wantyou to do something very important. I am sure that Zorzi has beenarrested unjustly, and I do not believe that the Governor will keep himin prison. Can you not get your friend the gondolier to go to theGovernor's palace before mid-day, and ask whether Zorzi is to be letout?"

"Of course I can. By and by I will call him. He is busy cleaning thegondola now. "

Marietta had spoken quite quietly, though she had expected that hervoice would shake, and she had been almost sure that she was going toblush. But nothing so dreadful happened, though she had prepared for itby turning her back on Nella. She sat on the edge of the bed, slowlyfeeling her way into her little yellow leathern slippers. It was arelief to know that even now she could speak of Zorzi without giving anyoutward sign of emotion, and she felt a little encouraged, as she beganthe dreaded day. 

She took a long time in dressing, for she expected at every moment thather sister-in-law's maid would knock at the door with a message fromGiovanni, bidding her come to him before he went out. But no one came, though it was already past the hour at which he usually left the house. All at once she heard his unmistakable voice through the open window, and on looking out through the flowers she saw him standing at the opendoor of the glass-house, talking with the porter, or rather, givinginstructions about the garden which Pasquale received in surly silence. 

Marietta listened in surprise. It seemed impossible that Giovanni shouldnot take her to task at once if he had found the mantle. He was not thekind of man to put off accusing any one when he had proof of guilt andwas sure that the law was on his side, and Marietta felt sure that theevidence against her was overwhelming, for she had yet to learn whatamazing things can be done with impunity by people who have thereputation of perfect innocence. 

Giovanni was telling Pasquale, in a tone which every one might hear, that he had sent for a gardener, who would soon come with a lad to helphim, that the two must be admitted at once, and that he himself wouldbe within to receive them; but that no one else was to be allowed to goin, as he should be extremely busy all the morning. Having said thesethings three or four times over, in order to impress them on Pasquale'smind, he went in. The porter looked up at Marietta's window a moment, and then followed him and shut the door. It was clear that Giovanni hadno intention of speaking to his sister before the mid-day meal. Shebreathed more freely, since she was to have a respite of several hours. 

When she was dressed, Nella called the gondolier from her own window, and met him in the passage when he came up. He at once promised to makeinquiries about Zorzi and went off to the palace to find his friend andcrony, the Governor's head boatman. The latter, it is needless to say, knew every detail of the supernatural rescue from the archers, who couldtalk of nothing else in spite of the Governor's prohibition. They sat ina row on the stone bench within the main entrance, a rueful crew, theirheads bound up with a pleasing variety of bandages. In an hour thegondolier returned, laden with the wonderful story which Nella was thefirst, but not the last, to hear from him. Her brown eyes seemed to bestarting from her head when she came back to tell it to her mistress. 

Marietta listened with a beating heart, though Nella began at once bysaying that Zorzi had mysteriously disappeared, and was certainly not inprison. When all was told, she drew a long breath, and wished that shecould be alone to think over what she had heard; but Nella's imaginationwas roused, and she was prepared to discuss the affair all the morning. The details of it had become more and more numerous and circumstantial, as the men with the bandaged heads recalled what they had seen andheard. The devils that had delivered Zorzi all had blue noses, brassteeth and fiery tails. A peculiarity of theirs was that they had sixfingers with six iron claws on each hand, and that all their hoofs werered-hot. As to their numbers, they might be roughly estimated at athousand or so, and their roaring was like the howling of the south windand the breaking of the sea on the Lido in a winter storm. It washorrible to hear, and would alone have put all the armies of theRepublic to ignominious flight. Nella thought these things veryinteresting. She wished that she might talk with one of the men who hadseen a real devil. 

"I do not believe a word of all that nonsense, " said Marietta. "The mostimportant thing is that Zorzi got away from them and is not in prison. "

"If he escaped by selling his soul to the fiends, " said Nella, shakingher head, "it is a very evil thing. "

Her mistress's disbelief in the blue noses and fiery tails wasdisconcerting, and had a chilling effect on Nella's talkative mood. Thegondolier had crossed the bridge, to tell his story to Pasquale, whoseview of the case seemed to differ from Nella's. He listened withapproving interest, but without comment, until the gondolier hadfinished. 

"I could tell you many such stories, " he said. "Things of this kindoften happen at sea. "

"Really!" exclaimed the gondolier, who was only a boatman and regardedreal sailors with a sort of professional reverence. 

"Yes, " answered Pasquale. "Especially on Sundays. You must know thatwhen the priests are all saying mass, and the people are all praying, the devils cannot bear it, and are driven out to sea for the day. Verystrange things happen then, I assure you. Some day I will tell you howthe boatswain of a ship I once sailed in rove the end of the devil'stail through a link of the chain, made a Flemish knot at the end to stopit, and let go the anchor. So the devil went to the bottom by the run. We unshackled the chain and wore the ship to the wind, and after that wehad fair weather to the end of the voyage. It happened on a Sunday. "

"Marvellous!" cried the gondolier. "I should like to hear the wholestory! But if you will allow me, I will go in and tell the SignorGiovanni what has happened, for he does not know yet. "

Pasquale grinned as he stood in the doorway. 

"He has given strict orders that no one is to be admitted this morning, as he is very busy. "

"But this is a very important matter, " argued the gondolier, who wishedto have the pleasure of telling the tale. 

"I cannot help it, " answered Pasquale. "Those are his orders, and I mustobey them. You know what his temper is, when he is not pleased. "

Just then a skiff came up the canal at a great rate, so that the quickstrokes of the oar attracted the men's attention. They saw that the boatwas one of those that could be hired everywhere in Venice. The oarsmanbacked water with a strong stroke and brought to at the steps before theglass-house. 

"Are you not Messer Angelo Beroviero's gondolier?" he inquired civilly. 

"Yes, " answered the man addressed, "I am the head gondolier, at yourservice. "

"Thank you, " replied the boatman. "I am to tell you that Messer Angelohas just arrived in Venice by sea, from Rimini, on board the _SantaLucia_, a Neapolitan galliot now at anchor in the Giudecca. He desiresyou to bring his gondola at once to fetch him, and I am to bring overhis baggage in my skiff. "

The gondolier uttered an exclamation of surprise, and then turned toPasquale. 

"I go, " he said. "Will you tell the Signor Giovanni that his father iscoming home?"

Pasquale grinned again. He was rarely in such a pleasant humour. 

"Certainly not, " he answered. "The Signor Giovanni is very busy, and hasgiven strict orders that he is not to be disturbed on any account. "

"That is your affair, " said the gondolier, hurrying away. 

CHAPTER XIX

A little more than an hour later, the gondola came back and stoppedalongside the steps of the house. The gondolier had made such haste toobey the summons that he had not thought of going into the house to givethe servants warning, and as most of the shutters were already drawntogether against the heat, no one had been looking out when he wentaway. He had asked Pasquale to tell the young master, and that was allthat could be expected of him. There was therefore great surprise in thehousehold when Angelo Beroviero went up the steps of his house, and hisown astonishment that no one should be there to receive him was almostas great. The gondolier explained, and told him what Pasquale had said. 

It was enough to rouse the old man's suspicions at once. He had leftZorzi in charge of the laboratory, enjoining upon him not to encourageGiovanni to go there; but now Giovanni was shut up there, presumablywith Zorzi, and had given orders that he was not to be disturbed. Thegondolier had not dared to say anything about the Dalmatian's arrest, and Beroviero was quite ignorant of all that had happened. He was not aman who hesitated when his suspicions or his temper were at work, andnow he turned, without even entering his home, and crossed the bridgeto the glass-house. Pasquale was looking through the grating and saw himcoming, and was ready to receive him at the open door. For the thirdtime on that morning, he grinned from ear to ear. Beroviero was pleasedby the silent welcome of his old and trusted servant. 

"You seem glad to see me again, " he said, laying his hand kindly on theold porter's arm as he passed in. 

"Others will be glad, too, " was the answer. 

As he went down the corridor Beroviero heard the sound of spadesstriking into the earth and shovelling it away. The gardener and his ladhad been at work nearly two hours, and had turned up most of the earthin the little flower-beds to a depth of two or three feet during thattime, while Giovanni sat motionless under the plane-tree, watching everymovement of their spades. He rose nervously when he heard footsteps inthe corridor, for he did not wish any one to find him seated there, apparently watching a most commonplace operation with profound interest. He had made a step towards the door of the laboratory, when he saw hisfather emerge from the dark passage. He was a coward, and he trembledfrom head to foot, his teeth chattered in his head, and the cold sweatmoistened his forehead in an instant. The old man stood still four orfive paces from him and looked from him to the men who had been digging. On seeing the master they stopped working and pulled off their knittedcaps. As a further sign of respect they wiped their dripping faces withtheir shirt sleeves. 

"What are you doing here?" asked Beroviero in a tone of displeasure. "The garden was very well as it was. "

"I--I thought, " stammered Giovanni, "that it would--that it might bebetter to dig it--"

"It would not be better, " answered the old man. "You may go, " he added, speaking to the men, who were glad enough to be dismissed. 

Beroviero passed his son without further words and tried the door of thelaboratory, but found it locked. 

"What is this?" he asked angrily. "Where is Zorzi? I told him not toleave you here alone. "

"You had great confidence in him, " answered Giovanni, recovering himselfa little. "He is in prison. "

He took the key from his wallet and thrust it into the lock as he spoke. 

"In prison!" cried Beroviero in a loud voice. "What do you mean?"

Giovanni held the door open for him. 

"I will tell you all about Zorzi, if you will come in, " he said. 

Beroviero entered, stood still a moment and looked about. Everything wasas Zorzi had left it, but the glass-maker's ear missed the low roar ofthe furnace. Instinctively he made a step towards the latter, extendinghis hand to see whether it was already cold, but at that moment hecaught sight of the silk mantle in the chair. He glanced quickly at hisson. 

"Has Marietta been here with you this morning?" he asked sharply. 

"Oh no!" answered Giovanni contemptuously. "Zorzi stole that thing andhad not time to hide it when they arrested him last night. I left itjust where it was, that the Governor might see it. "

Beroviero's face changed slowly. His fiery brown eyes began to show adangerous light and he stroked his long beard quickly, twisting it alittle each time. 

"If you say that Zorzi stole Marietta's silk mantle, " he said slowly, "you are either a fool or a liar. "

"You are my father, " answered Giovanni in some perturbation. "I cannotanswer you. "

Beroviero was silent for a long time. He took the mantle from the chair, examined it and assured himself that it was Marietta's own and no other. Then he carefully folded it up and laid it on the bench. His brows werecontracted as if he were in great pain, and his face was pale, but hiseyes were still angry. 

Giovanni knew the signs of his father's wrath and dared not speak to himyet.. 

"Is this the evidence on which you have had my man arrested?" askedBeroviero, sitting down in the big chair and fixing his gaze on his son. 

"By no means, " answered Giovanni, with all the coolness he couldcommand. "If it pleases you to hear my story from the beginning I willtell you all. If you do not hear all, you cannot possibly understand. "

"I am listening, " said old Beroviero, leaning back and laying his handson the broad wooden arms of the chair. 

"I shall tell you everything, exactly as it happened, " said Giovanni, "and I swear that it is all true. "

Beroviero reflected that in his experience this was usually the way inwhich liars introduced their accounts of events. For truth is like awork of genius: it carries conviction with it at once, and thereforeneeds no recommendation, nor other artificial support. 

"After you left, " Giovanni continued, "I came here one morning, out ofpure friendliness to Zorzi, and as we talked I chanced to look at thosethings on the shelf. When I admired them, he admitted rather reluctantlythat he had made them, and other things which you have in your house. "

Beroviero gravely nodded his assent to the statement. 

"I asked him to make me something, " Giovanni went on to say, "but hetold me that he had no white glass in the furnace, and that what wasthere was the result of your experiments. "

Again Beroviero bent his head. 

"So I asked him to bring his blow-pipe to the main furnace room, wherethey were still working at that time, and we went there together. He atonce made a very beautiful piece, and was just finishing it when a badaccident happened to him. Another man let his blow-pipe fly from hishand and it fell upon Zorzi's foot with a large lump of hot glass. "

Beroviero looked keenly at Giovanni. 

"You know as well as I that it could not have been an accident, " hesaid. "It was done out of spite. "

"That may be, " replied Giovanni, "for the men do not like him, as youknow. But Zorzi accepted it as being an accident, and said so. He wasbadly hurt, and is still lame. Nella dressed the wound, and thenMarietta came with her. "

"Are you sure Marietta came here?" asked Beroviero, growing paler. 

"Quite sure. They were on their way here together early in the morningwhen I stopped them, and asked Marietta where she was going, and sheboldly said she was going to see Zorzi. I could not prevent her, and Isaw them both go in. "

"Do you mean to say that although Zorzi was so badly hurt you did nothave him brought to the house?"

"Of course I proposed that at once, " Giovanni answered. "But he saidthat he would not leave the furnace. "

"That was like him, " said old Beroviero. 

"He knew what he was doing. It was on that same day that a night boytold me how he had seen you and Zorzi burying something in thelaboratory the night before you left. "

Beroviero started and leaned forward. Giovanni smiled thoughtfully, forhe saw how his father was moved, and he knew that the strongest part ofhis story was yet untold. 

"It would have been better to leave Paolo Godi's manuscript with me, " hesaid, in a tone of sympathy. "I grew anxious for its safety as soon as Iknew that Zorzi had charge of it. Yesterday morning I came in again. Zorzi was sitting on the working-stool, finishing a beautiful beaker ofwhite glass. "

"White glass?" repeated Beroviero in evident surprise. "White glass?Here?"

"Yes, " answered Giovanni, enjoying his triumph. "I pointed out that whenI had last come, there had been no white glass in the furnace. Heanswered that as one of the experiments had produced a beautiful redcolour which he thought must be valuable, he had removed the crucible. He also showed me a specimen of it. "

"Is it here?" asked Beroviero anxiously. "Where is it?"

Giovanni took the specimen from the table, for Zorzi had left it lyingthere, and he handed it to his father. The latter took it, held it up tothe light, and uttered an exclamation of astonishment and anger. 

"There is only one way of making that, " he said, without hesitation. 

"Yes, " Giovanni answered coolly. "I supposed it was made according toone of your secrets. "

A quick look was the only reply to this speech. Giovanni continued. 

"I asked him to sell me the piece of glass he had been making when hecame in, and at first he pretended that he was not sure whether youwould allow it, but at last he took a piece of gold for it, and I was tohave it as soon as it was annealed. When you see it, you will understandwhy I was so anxious to get it. "

"Where is it?" asked the old man. "Show it to me. "

Giovanni went to the other end of the annealing oven, and came back amoment later carrying the iron tray on which stood the pieces Zorzi hadmade on the previous morning. Beroviero looked at them critically, triedtheir weight, and noticed their transparency. 

"That is not my glass, " he said in a tone of decision. 

"No, " said Giovanni, "I saw that it was not your ordinary glass. Itseems much better. Now Zorzi must have made it in a new crucible, and ifhe did, he made it with some secret of yours, for it is impossible thathe should have discovered it himself. I said to myself that if he hadmade it, and the red glass there, he must have opened the book which youhad buried together in this room, and that there was only one way ofhindering him from learning everything in it, and ruining you and us bysetting up a furnace of his own. "

Beroviero was looking hard at Giovanni, but he was now thoroughlyalarmed for the safety of his treasured manuscript, and listened withattention and without any hostility. The proofs seemed at first sightvery strong, and after all Zorzi was only a Dalmatian and a foreigner, who might have yielded to temptation. 

"What did you do?" asked Beroviero. 

Giovanni told him the truth, how he had written a letter to theGovernor, and had seen him in person, as well as Jacopo Contarini. 

"Of course, " Giovanni concluded, "you know best. If you find the bookas you and he hid it together, he must have learned your secrets in someother way. "

"We can easily see, " answered old Beroviero, rising quickly. "Come here. Get the crowbar from the corner, and help me to lift the stone. "

Giovanni took pains to look for the crowbar exactly where it was not, for he thought that this would divert any lingering suspicion fromhimself, but Beroviero was only annoyed. 

"There, there!" he cried, pointing. "It is in that corner. Quickly!"

"It would be like the clever scoundrel to have copied what he wanted andthen to have put the book back into the hiding-place, " said Giovanni, pausing. 

"Do not waste words, my son!" cried Beroviero in the greatest anxiety. "Here! This is the stone. Get the crowbar in at this side. So. Now wewill both heave. There! Wedge the stone up with that bit of wood. Thatwill do. Now let us both get our hands under it, and lift it up. "

It was done, while he was speaking. A moment later Giovanni had scoopedout the loose earth, and Beroviero was staring down into the empty hole, just as Giovanni had done on the previous night. Giovanni was almostconsoled for his own disappointment when he saw his father's face. 

"It is certainly gone, " he said. "You did not bury it deeper, did you?The soil is hard below. "

"No, no! It is gone!" answered the old man in a dull voice. "Zorzi hasgot it. "

"You see, " said Giovanni mercilessly, "when I saw the red and whiteglass which he had made himself I was so sure of the truth that I actedquickly. I saw him arrested, and I do not think he could have hadanything like a book with him, for he was in his doublet and hose. Andas he is safe in prison now, he can be made to tell where he has put thething. How big was it?"

"It was in an iron box. It was heavy. " Beroviero spoke in low tones, overcome by his loss, and by the apparent certainty that Zorzi hadbetrayed him. 

"You see why I should naturally suspect him of having stolen themantle, " observed Giovanni. "A man who would betray your confidence insuch a way would do anything. "

"Yes, yes, " answered the old master vaguely. "Yes--I must go and see himin prison. I was kind to him, and perhaps he may confess everything tome. "

"We might ask Marietta when she first missed her mantle, " suggestedGiovanni. "She must have noticed that it was gone. "

"She will not remember, " answered Beroviero. "Let us go to theGovernor's house at once. There is just time before mid-day. We canspeak to Marietta at dinner. "

"But you must be tired, after your journey, " objected Giovanni, withunusual concern for his father's comfort. 

"No. I slept well on the ship. I have done nothing to tire me. Thegondola may be still there. Tell Pasquale to call it over, and we willgo directly. Go on! I will follow you. "

Giovanni went forward, and Beroviero stayed a moment to look again atthe beautiful objects of white glass, examining them carefully, one byone. The workmanship was marvellous, and he could not help admiring it, but it was the glass itself that disturbed him. It was like his own, butit was better, and the knowledge of its composition and treatment was afortune. Then, too, the secret of dropping a piece of copper into acertain mixture in order to produce a particularly beautiful red colourwas in the book, and the colour could not be mistaken and was not theone which Beroviero had been trying to produce. He shook his head sadlyas he went out and locked the door behind him, convinced against hiswill that he had been betrayed by the man whom he had most trusted inthe world. 

Pasquale watched the two, father and son, as they got into the gondola. Old Beroviero had not even looked at him as he came out, and it was notthe porter's business to volunteer information, nor the gondolier'seither. But when the latter was ordered to row to the Governor's houseas fast as possible, he turned his head and looked at Pasquale, whoslowly nodded his ugly head before going in again. 

On reaching their destination they were received at once, and theGovernor told them what had happened, in as few words as possible. Nothing could exceed old Beroviero's consternation, and his son'sdisappointment. Zorzi had been rescued at the corner of San Piero'schurch by men who had knocked senseless the officer and the six archers. No one knew who these men were, nor their numbers, but they were clearlyfriends of Zorzi's who had known that he was to be arrested. 

"Accomplices, " suggested Giovanni. "He has stolen a valuable book of myfather's, containing secrets for making the finest glass. By this timehe is on his way to Milan, or Florence. "

"I daresay, " said the Governor. "These foreigners are capable ofanything. "

"I had trusted him so confidently, " said Beroviero, too much overcome tobe angry. 

"Exactly, " answered the Governor. "You trusted him too much. "

"I always thought so, " put in Giovanni wisely. 

"There is nothing to be said, " resumed Beroviero. "I do not wish tobelieve it of him, but I cannot deny the evidence of my own senses. "

"I have already sent a report to the Council of Ten, " said the Governor. "The most careful search will be made in Venice for Zorzi and hiscompanions, and if they are found, they will suffer for what they havedone. "

"I hope so!" replied Giovanni heartily. 

"I remember that you recommended me to send a strong force, " observedthe Governor. "Perhaps you knew that a rescue was intended. Or you wereaware that the fellow had daring accomplices. "

"I only suspected it, " Giovanni answered. "I knew nothing. He was alwaysalone. "

"He has hardly been out of my sight for five years, " said old Berovierosadly. 

He and his son took their leave, the Governor promising to keep theminformed as to the progress of the search. At present nothing more couldbe done, for Zorzi has disappeared altogether, and old Beroviero wasmuch inclined to share his son's opinion that the fugitive was alreadyon his way to Milan, or Florence, where the possession of the secretswould insure him a large fortune, very greatly to the injury ofBeroviero and all the glass-workers of Murano. The two men returned tothe house in silence, for the elder was too much absorbed by his ownthoughts to speak, and Giovanni was too wise to interrupt reflectionswhich undoubtedly tended to Zorzi's destruction. 

Marietta was awaiting her father's return with much anxiety, for everyone knew that the master had gone first to the laboratory and then tothe Governor's palace, with Giovanni, so that the two must have beentalking together a long time. Marietta waited with her sister-in-law inthe lower hall, slowly walking up and down. 

When her father came up the low steps at last, she went forward to meethim, and a glance told her that he was in the most extreme anxiety. Shetook his hand and kissed it, in the customary manner, and he bent alittle and touched her forehead with his lips. Then, to her surprise, heput one hand under her chin, and laid the other on the top of her head, and with gentle force made her look at him. Giovanni's wife was there, and most of the servants were standing near the foot of the staircase towelcome their master. 

Beroviero said nothing as he gazed into his daughter's eyes. They methis own fearlessly enough, and she opened them wide, as she rarely did, as if to show that she had nothing to conceal; but while he looked ather the blood rose blushing in her cheeks, telling that there wassomething to hide after all, and as she would not turn her eyes fromhis, they sparkled a little with vexation. Beroviero did not speak, buthe let her go and went on towards the stairs, bending his headgraciously to the other persons who were assembled to greet him. 

He was a man of strong character and of much natural dignity, far tooproud to break down under a great loss or a bitter disappointment, andat dinner he sat at the head of the table and spoke affably of thejourney he had made, explaining his unexpectedly early return by thefact that the Lord of Rimini had at once approved his designs andaccepted his terms. Occasionally Giovanni asked a respectful question, but neither his wife nor Marietta said much during the meal. Zorzi wasnot mentioned. 

"You are welcome at my house, my son, " Beroviero said, when they hadfinished, "but I suppose that you will go back to your own thisevening. "

This was of course a command, and Marietta thought it a good omen. Shehad felt sure, when her father made her look at him, that Giovanni hadspoken to him of the mantle, but in what way she could not tell. Perhaps, though it seemed incredible, he would not make such a seriouscase of it as she had expected. 

He said nothing, when he withdrew to rest during the hot hours of theafternoon, and she went to her own room as every one did at that time. Little as she had slept that night, she felt that it would beintolerable to lie down; so she took her little basket of beads andtried to work. Nella was dozing in the next room. From time to time theyoung girl leaned back in her chair with half-closed eyes, and a look ofpain came over her face; then with an effort she took her needle oncemore, and picked out the beads, threading them one by one in a regularsuccession of colours. 

She was sure that if Zorzi were near he would have already found somemeans of informing her that he was really in safety. He must havefriends of whom she knew nothing, and who had rescued him at great risk. He would surely trust one of them to take a message, or to make a signalwhich she could understand. She sat near the window, and the shutterswere half closed so as to leave a space through which she could lookout. From time to time she glanced at the white line of the footwayopposite, over which the shadow of the glass-house was beginning tocreep as the sun moved westward. But no one appeared. When it was coolPasquale would probably come out and look three times up and down thecanal as he always did. Giovanni would not go to the laboratory again. Perhaps her father would go, when, he was rested. Then, if she chose, she could take Nella and join him, and since there was to be anexplanation with him, she would rather have it in the laboratory, wherethey would be quite alone. 

She had fully made up her mind to tell him at the very first interviewthat she would not marry Jacopo Contarini under any circumstances, butshe had not decided whether she would add that she loved Zorzi. Shehated anything like cowardice, and it would be cowardly to put offtelling the truth any longer; but what concerned Zorzi was her secret, and she had a right to choose the most favourable moment for making arevelation on which her whole life, and Zorzi's also, must immediatelydepend. She felt weak and tired, for she had eaten little and hardlyslept at all, but her determination was strong and she would act uponit. 

Occasionally she rose and moved wearily about the room, looked outbetween the shutters and then sat down again. She was in one of thosemoments of life in which all existence seems drawn out to an endlessquivering thread, a single throbbing nerve stretched to its utmost pointof strain. 

The silence was broken by a man's footstep in the passage, comingtowards her door. A moment later she heard her father's voice, asking ifhe might come in. Almost at the same time she opened and Beroviero stoodon the threshold. Nella had heard him speaking, too, and she started up, wide awake in an instant, and came in, to see if she were needed. 

"Will you go with me to the laboratory, my dear?" asked the old manquietly. 

She answered gravely that she would. There was no gladness in her tone, but no reluctance. She was facing the most difficult situation she hadever known, and perhaps the most dangerous. 

"Very well, " said her father. "Let Nella give you your silk mantle andwe will go at once. "

Before Marietta could have answered, even if she had known what to say, Nella had begun her tale of woe. The mantle was stolen, the sour-facedshrew of a maid who belonged to the Signor Giovanni's wife had stolenit, the house ought to be searched at once, and so much more to the sameeffect that Nella was obliged to pause for breath. 

"When did you miss it?" asked Beroviero, looking hard at theserving-woman. 

"This morning, sir. It was here last night, I am quite sure. "

The truthful little brown eyes did not waver. 

"And it cannot have been any one else, " continued Nella. "This is a veryevil person, sir, and she sometimes comes here with a message, or makingbelieve that she is helping me. As if I needed help, indeed!"

"Do not accuse people of stealing when you have no evidence againstthem, " answered Beroviero somewhat sternly. "Give your mistresssomething else to throw over her. "

"Give me the green silk cloak, " said Marietta, who was anxious not to bequestioned about the mantle. 

"It has a spot in one corner, " Nella answered discontentedly, as shewent to the wardrobe. 

The spot turned out to be no bigger than the head of a pin. A momentlater Marietta and her father were going downstairs. At the door of theglass-house Pasquale eyed them with approbation, and Marietta smiled andsaid a word to him as she passed. It seemed strange that she should havetrusted the ugly old man with a secret which she dared not tell her ownfather. 

Beroviero did not speak as she followed him down the path and stoodwaiting while he unlocked the door. Then they both entered, and he laidhis cap upon the table. 

"There is your mantle, my dear, " he said quietly, and he pointed to it, neatly folded and lying on the bench. 

Marietta started, for she was taken unawares. While in her own room, herfather had spoken so naturally as to make it seem quite possible thatGiovanni had said nothing about it to him, yet he had known exactlywhere it was. He was facing her now, as he spoke. 

"It was found here last night, after Zorzi had been arrested, " saidBeroviero. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, " Marietta answered, gathering all her courage. "We will talk aboutit by and by. First, I have something to say to you which is much moreimportant than anything concerning the mantle. Will you sit down, father, and hear me as patiently as you can?"

"I am learning patience to-day, " said Beroviero, sitting down in hischair. "I am learning also the meaning of such words as ingratitude, betrayal and treachery, which were never before spoken in my house. "

He sighed and leaned back, looking at the wall. Marietta dropped hercloak beside the mantle on the bench and began to walk up and downbefore him, trying to begin her speech. But she could not find anywords. 

"Speak, child, " said her father. "What has happened? It seems to me thatI could bear almost anything now. "

She stood still a moment before him, still hesitating. She now saw thathe had suffered more than she had suspected, doubtless owing to Zorzi'sarrest and disappearance, and she knew that what she meant to tell himwould hurt him much more. 

"Father, " she began at last, with a great effort, "I know that what I amgoing to say will displease you very, very much. I am sorry--I wish itwere not--"

Suddenly her set speech broke down. She fell on her knees and took hishands, looking up beseechingly to his face. 

"Forgive me!" she cried. "Oh, for God's sake forgive me! I cannot marryJacopo Contarini!"

Beroviero had not expected that. He sat upright in the chair, in hisamazement, and instinctively tried to draw his hands out of hers, butshe held them fast, gazing earnestly up to him. His look was not angry, nor cold, nor did he even seem hurt. He was simply astonished beyondall measure by the enormous audacity of what she said. As yet he did notconnect it with anything else. 

"I think you must be mad!"

That was all he could find to say. 

CHAPTER XX

Marietta shook her head. She still knelt at her father's feet, holdinghis hands. 

"I am not mad, " she said. "I am in earnest. I cannot marry him. It isimpossible. "

"You must marry him, " answered Beroviero. "You are betrothed to him, andit would be an insult to his family to break off the marriage now. Besides, you have no reason to give, not the shadow of a reason. "

Marietta dropped his hands and rose to her feet lightly. She hadexpected a terrific outburst of anger, which would gradually subside, after which she hoped to find words with which to influence him. Butlike many hot-tempered men, he was sometimes unexpectedly calm atcritical moments, as if he were really able to control his nature whenhe chose. She now almost wished that he would break out in a rage, aswomen sometimes hope we may, for they know it is far easier to deal withan angry man than with a determined one. 

"I will not marry him, " she said at last, with strong emphasis, andalmost defiantly. 

"My child, " Beroviero answered gravely, "you do not know what you aresaying. "

"I do!" cried Marietta with some indignation. "I have thought of it along time. I was very wrong not to make up my mind from the beginning, and I ask your forgiveness. In my heart I always knew that I could notdo it in the end, and I should have said so at once. It was a greatmistake. "

"There is no question of your consent, " replied Beroviero withconviction. "If girls were consulted as to the men they were to marry, the world would soon come to an end. This is only a passing madness, ofwhich you should be heartily ashamed. Say no more about it. On theappointed day, the wedding will take place. "

"It will not, " said Marietta firmly; "and you will do better to let itbe known at once. It is of no use to take heaven to witness, and to makea solemn oath. I merely say that I will not marry Jacopo Contarini. Youmay carry me to the church, you may drag me before the altar, but I willresist. I will scream out that I will not, and the priest himself willprotect me. That will be a much greater scandal than if you go to theContarini family and tell them that your daughter is mad--if you reallythink I am. "

"You are undoubtedly beside yourself at the present moment, " Berovieroanswered. "But it will pass, I hope. "

"Not while I am alive, and I shall certainly resist to the end. It wouldbe much wiser of you to send me to a convent at once, than to count onforcing me to go through the marriage ceremony. "

Beroviero stared at her, and stroked his beard. He began to believe thatshe might possibly be in earnest. Since she talked so quietly of goingto a convent, a fate which most girls considered the most terrible thatcould be imagined. He bent his brows in thought, but watched hersteadily. 

"You have not yet given me a single reason for all this wild talk, " hesaid after a pause. "It is absurd to think that without some good causeyou are suddenly filled with repulsion for marriage, or for JacopoContarini. I have heard of young women who were betrothed, but who felta religious vocation, and refused to marry for that reason. It neverseemed a very satisfactory one to me, for if there is any condition inwhich a woman needs religion, it is the marriage state. "

He paused in his speech, pleased with his own idea, in spite of all histroubles. Marietta had moved a few steps away from him and stood besidethe table, looking down at the things on it, without seeing them. 

"But you do not even make religion a pretext, " pursued her father. "Haveyou no reason to give? I do not expect a good one, for none can have anyweight. But I should like to hear the best you have. "

"It is a very convincing one to me, " Marietta replied, still lookingdown at the table. "But I think I had better not tell it to you to-day, "she added. "It would make you angry. "

"No, " said Beroviero. "One cannot be angry with people who are reallyout of their senses. "

"I am not so mad as you think, " answered the girl. "I have told you ofmy decision, because it was cowardly of me not to tell you what I feltbefore you went away. But it might be a mistake to tell you more to-day. You have had enough to harass you already, since you came back. "

"You are suddenly very considerate. "

"No, I have not been considerate. I could not be, without acting a lieto you, by letting you believe that I meant to marry Messer Jacopo, andI will not do that any longer, since I know that it is a lie. But Icannot see the use of saying anything more. "

"You had better tell me the whole truth, rather than let me thinksomething that may be much worse, " answered Beroviero, changing hisattitude. 

"There is nothing in the truth of which I am ashamed, " said Marietta, holding up her head proudly. "I have done nothing which I did notbelieve to be right, however strange it may seem to you. "

Once more their eyes met and they gazed steadily at each other; andagain the blush spread over her cheeks. Beroviero put out his hand andtouched the folded mantle. 

"Marietta, " he said, "Zorzi has stolen my precious book of secrets, andhas disappeared with it. They tell me that he also stole this mantle, for it was found here just after he was arrested last night. Is it true, or has he stolen my daughter instead?"

Marietta's face had darkened when he began to accuse the absent man. Atthe question that followed she started a little, and drew herself up. 

"Zorzi is neither a thief nor a traitor, " she answered. "If you mean toask me whether I love him--is that what you mean?" She paused, withflashing eyes. 

"Yes, " answered her father, and his voice shook. 

"Then yes! I love him with all my heart, and I have loved him long. Thatis why I will not marry Jacopo Contarini. You know my secret now. "

Beroviero groaned aloud, and his head sank as he grasped the arms of thechair. His daughter loved the man who had cheated him, betrayed him androbbed him. It was almost too much to bear. He had nothing to say, forno words could tell what he felt then, and he silently bowed his head. 

"As for the accusations you bring against him, " Marietta said after amoment, "they are false, from first to last, and I can prove to you thatevery one of them is an abominable lie. "

"You cannot make that untrue which I have seen with my eyes. "

"I can, though Zorzi has the right to prove his innocence himself. I maysay too much, for I am not as generous as he is. Do you know that whenthey tried to kill him in the furnace room, and lamed him for life, hetold every one, even me, that it was an accident? He is so brave andnoble that when he comes here again, he will not tell you that it wasyour own son who tried to rob you, who did everything in his power toget Zorzi away from this room, in order to search for your manuscript, and who at last, as everything else failed, persuaded the Governor toarrest him. He will not tell you that, and he does not know that beforethey had taken him twenty paces from the door, Giovanni was alreadyhere, locked in and trying the stones with a hammer to find out whichone covered the precious book. Did Giovanni tell you that this morning?No. Zorzi would not tell you all the truth, and I know some of it evenbetter than he. But Zorzi was always generous and brave. "

Beroviero had lifted his head now and was looking hard at her. 

"And your mantle? How came it here?" he asked. 

There was nothing to be done now, but to speak the truth. 

"It is here, " said Marietta, growing paler, "because I came here, unknown to any one except Pasquale who let me in, because I came alonelast night to warn the man I love that Giovanni had planned hisdestruction, and to save him if I could. In my haste I left the mantlein that chair of yours, in which I had been sitting. It slipped from myshoulders as I sat, and there Giovanni must have found it. If you hadseen it there you would know that what I say is true. "

"I did see it, " said Beroviero. "Giovanni left it where it was, and Ifolded it myself this morning. Zorzi did not steal the mantle. I takeback that accusation. "

"Nor has he stolen your secrets. Take that back, too, if you are just. You always were, till now. "

"I have searched the place where he and I put the book, and it is notthere. "

"Giovanni searched it twelve hours earlier, and it was already gone. Zorzi saved it from your son, and then, in his rage, I suppose thatGiovanni accused him of stealing it. He may even have believed it, for Ican be just, too. But it is not true. The book is safe. "

"Zorzi took it with him, " said Beroviero. 

"You are mistaken. Before he was arrested, he said that I ought to knowwhere it was, in case anything happened to him, in order to tell you. "

Beroviero rose slowly, staring at her, and speaking with an effort. 

"You know where it is? He told you? He has not taken it away?"

Marietta smiled, in perfect certainty of victory. 

"I know where it is, " she said. 

"Where is it?" he asked in extreme anxiety, for he could hardly believewhat he heard. 

"I will not tell you yet, " was the unexpected answer Marietta gave him. "And you cannot possibly find it unless I do. "

The veins stood out on the old man's temples in an instant, and the oldangry fire came back to his eyes. 

"Do you dare to tell me that you will not show me the place where thebook is, on the very instant?" he cried. 

"Oh yes, " answered Marietta. "I dare that, and much more. I am not acoward like my brother, you know. I will not tell you the secret tillyou promise me something. "

"You are trying to sell me what is my own!" he answered angrily. "Youare in league with Zorzi against me, to break off your marriage. But Iwill not do it--you shall tell me where the book is--if you refuse, youshall repent it as long as you live--I will--"

He stopped short in his speech as he met her disdainful look. 

"You never threatened me before, " she said. "Why do you think that youcan frighten me?"

"Give me what is mine, " said the old man angrily. "That is all I demand. I am not threatening. "

"Set me free from Messer Jacopo, and you shall have it, " answeredMarietta. 

"No. You shall marry him. "

"I will not. But I will keep your book until you change your mind, orelse--but no! If I gave it to Zorzi, he is so honourable that he wouldbring it back to you without so much as looking into it. I will keep itfor myself. Or I will burn it!"

She felt that if she had been a man, she could not have taken such anunfair advantage of him; but she was a defenceless girl, fighting forthe liberty of her whole life. That might excuse much, she thought. Bythis time Beroviero was very angry; he stalked up and down beside thefurnace, trailing his thin silk gown behind him, stroking his beard witha quick, impatient movement, and easting fierce glances at Marietta fromtime to time. 

He was not used to being at the mercy of circumstances, still less tohaving his mind made up for him by his son and his daughter. Giovannihad made him believe that Zorzi had turned traitor and thief, after fiveyears of faithful service, and the conviction had cut him to the quick;and now Marietta had demonstrated Zorzi's innocence almost beyond doubt, but had made matters worse in other ways, and was taking the high handwith him. He did not realise that from the moment when she had boldlyconfessed what she had done and had declared her love for Zorzi, hisconfidence in her had returned by quick degrees, and that the atrociouscrime of having come secretly at night to the laboratory had become inhis eyes, and perhaps against his will, a mere pardonable piece ofrashness; since if Zorzi was innocent, anything which could save himfrom unjust imprisonment might well be forgiven. He had borne whatseemed to him very great misfortunes with fortitude and dignity; but hisgreatest treasures were safe, his daughter and Paolo Godi's manuscript, and he became furiously angry with Marietta, because she had him in herpower. 

If a man is seated, a woman who intends to get the better of himgenerally stands; but if he loses his temper and begins to walk about, she immediately seats herself and assumes an exasperating calmness ofmanner. Accordingly Marietta sat down on a small chair near the tableand watched her father in silence, persuaded that he would be obliged toyield in the end. 

"No one has ever dared to browbeat me in this way, in my whole life!"cried the old man fiercely, and his voice shook with rage. 

"Will you listen to me?" asked Marietta with sudden meekness. 

"Listen to you?" he repeated instantly. "Have I not been listening toyou for hours?"

"I do not know how long it may have been, " answered the girl, "but Ihave much more to say. You are so angry that you will not hear me. "

"Angry? I? Are you telling me that I am so beside myself with rage, thatI cannot understand reason?"

"I did not say that. "

"You meant it, then! What did you say? You have forgotten what you saidalready! Just like a girl! And you pretend to argue with me, with yourown father! It is beyond belief! Silence, I say! Do not answer me!"

Marietta sat quite still, and began to look at her nails, which werevery pink and well shaped. After a short silence Beroviero stoppedbefore her. 

"Well!" he cried. "Why do you not speak?" His eyes blazed and he tappedthe pavement with his foot. She raised her eyebrows, smiled a littlewearily and sighed. 

"I misunderstood you, " she said, with exasperating patience. "I thoughtyou told me to be silent. "

"You always misunderstand me, " he answered angrily and walking offagain. "You always did, and you always will! I believe you do it onpurpose. But I will make you understand! You shall know what I mean!"

"I should be so glad, " said Marietta. "Pray tell me what you mean. "

This was too much. He turned sharply in his walk. 

"I mean you to marry Contarini, " he cried out, with a stamp of the foot. 

"And you mean never to see Paolo Godi's manuscript again, " suggestedMarietta quietly. 

"Perdition take the accursed thing!" roared the old man. "If I only knewwhere you have put it--"

"It is where you can never, never find it, " Marietta answered. "So it isof no use to be angry with me, is it? The more angry you are, the lesslikely it is that I shall tell you. But I will tell you something else, father--something you never understood before. My marriage was to havebeen a bargain, a great name for a fortune, half your fortune for agreat name and an alliance with the Contarini. Perhaps one was worth theother. I know very little of such things. But it chances that I can havea word to say about the bargain, too. Would any one say that I was doingvery wrong if I gave that book to my brother, for instance? Giovanniwould not give it back to you, as Zorzi would, I am quite sure. "

"What abominable scheme is this?" Beroviero fairly trembled in his fury. 

"I offer you a simple bargain, " Marietta answered, unmoved. "I will giveyou your manuscript for my freedom. Will you take it, father? Or willyou insist upon trying to marry me by force, and let me give the book toGiovanni? Yes, that is what I will do. Then I will marry Zorzi, and goaway. "

"Silence, child! You! Marry a stranger, a Dalmatian--a servant!"

"But I love him. You may call him a servant, if you choose. It wouldmake no difference to me if it were true. He would not be less brave, less loyal or less worthy if he were forced to clean your shoes in orderto live, instead of sharing your art with you. Did he ever lie to you?"

"No!" cried the old man. "I would have broken his bones!"

"Did he ever betray a secret, since you know that the book is safe?"

"No. "

"Have you trusted him far more than your own sons, for many years?"

"Yes--of course--"

"Then call him your servant if you like, and call your sons what youplease, " concluded Marietta, "but do not tell me that such a man is notgood enough to be the husband of a glass-blower's daughter, who does notwant a great name, nor a palace, nor a husband who sits in the GrandCouncil. Do not say that, father, for it would not be true--and younever told a lie in your life. "

"I tell you that marriage has nothing to do with all this!" He beganwalking again, to keep his temper hot, for he was dimly conscious thathe was getting the worst of the encounter, and that her arguments weregood. 

"And I tell you that a marriage that has nothing to do with love, andwith honour, and with trust, is no marriage at all!" answered the girl. "Say what you please of customs, and traditions, and of station, and allthat! God never meant that an innocent girl should be bought and soldlike a slave, or a horse, for a name, nor for money, nor for anyimaginary advantage to herself or to her father! I know what ourprivilege is, that the patricians may marry us and not lose their rank. I would rather keep my own, and marry a glass-worker, even if I were tobe sold! Do you know what your money would buy for me in Venice? Theprivilege of being despised and slighted by patricians and great ladies. You know as well as I that it would all end there, in spite of all youmay give. They want your money, you want their name, because you arerich and you have always been taught to think that the chief use ofmoney is to rise in the world. "

"Will you teach me what I am to think?" asked old Beroviero, amazed byher sudden flow of words. 

"Yes, " she answered, before he could say more. "I will teach you whatyou should think, what you should have always thought--a man as braveand upright and honest in everything as you are! You should think, youshould know, that your daughter has a right to live, a right to be free, and a right to love, like every living creature God ever made!"

"This is the most abominable rebellion!" retorted Beroviero. "I cannotimagine where you learned--"

"Rebellion?" she cried, interrupting him in ringing tones. "Yes, it isrank rebellion, sedition and revolt against slavery, for life and loveand freedom! You wonder where I have learned to turn and face thisoppression of the world, instead of yielding to it, one more unhappywoman among the thousands that are bought and sold into wifehood everyyear! I have learned nothing, my heart needed no teaching for that! Itis enough that I love an honest man truly--I know that it is wrong topromise my faith to another, and that it is a worse wrong in you to tryto get that promise from me by force. A vow that could be nothing but asolemn lie! Would the ring on my finger be a charm to make me forget?Would the priest's words and blessing be a spell to root out of my heartwhat is the best part of my life? Better go to a nunnery, and weep forthe truth, than to hope for peace in such a lie as that--better athousand, thousand times!"

She had risen now, and was almost eloquent, facing her father withflashing eyes. 

"Oh, you have always been kind to me, good to me, dear to me, " she wenton quickly. "It is only in this that you will not understand. Would itnot hurt you a little to feel that you had sent me to a sort of livingdeath from which I could never come back to life? That I was imprisonedfor ever among people who looked down upon me and only tolerated me formy fortune's sake? Yet that would be the very least part of it all! Icould bear all that, if it were for any good. But to become thecreature, the possession, the plaything of a man I do not love, when Ilove another with all my heart--oh, no, no, no! You cannot ask me that!"

His anger had slowly subsided, and he was listening now, not because shehad him in her power, but because what she said was true. For he was ajust and honourable man. 

"I wish that you might have loved any man but Zorzi, " he said, almost asif speaking to himself. 

"And why another?" she asked, following up her advantage instantly. "Youwould have had me marry a Trevisan, perhaps, or the son of any of theother great glass-makers? Is there one of them who can compare withZorzi as an artist, let alone as a man? Look at those things he hasmade, there, on the table! Is there a man living who could make one ofthem? Not you, yourself; you know it better than I do!"

"No, " answered Beroviero. "That is true. Nor is there any one who couldmake the glass he used for them without the secrets that are in thebook--and more too, for it is better than my own. "

Marietta looked at him in surprise. This was something she had notknown. 

"Is it not your glass?" she asked. 

"It is better. He must have added something to the composition set downin the book. "

"You believe that although the book itself is safe, he has made use ofit. "

"Yes. I cannot see how it could be otherwise. "

"Was the book sealed?"

"Yes, and looked in an iron box. Here is the key. I always wear it. "

He drew out the small iron key, and showed it to her. 

"If you find the box locked, and the seals untouched, will you believethat Zorzi has not opened the manuscript?" asked Marietta. 

"Yes, " answered Beroviero after a moment's thought. "I showed him theseal, and I remember that he said a man might make one like it. But Ishould know by the wax. I am sure I could tell whether it had beentampered with. Yes, I should believe he had not opened the book, if Ifound it as I left it. "

"Then you will be convinced that Zorzi is altogether innocent of all thecharges Giovanni made against him. Is that true?"

"Yes. If he has learnt the art in spite of the law, that is my fault, not his. He was unwise in selling the beaker to Giovanni. But what isthat, after all?"

"Promise me then, " said Marietta, laying her hand upon her father's arm, "promise me that if Zorzi comes back, he shall be safe, and that youwill trust him as you always have. "

"Though he dares to be in love with you?"

"Though I dare to love him--or apart from that. Say that if it were notfor that, you would treat him just as before you went away. "

"Yes, I would, " answered Beroviero thoughtfully. 

"The book is there, " said Marietta. 

She pointed to the big earthen jar that contained the broken glass, andher father's eyes followed her land. 

"It is for Zorzi's sake that I tell you, " she continued. "The book isburied deep down amongst the broken bits. It will take a long time toget it out. Shall I call Pasquale to help us?"

"No, " answered her father. 

He went to the other end of the room and brought back the crowbar. Thenhe placed himself in a good position for striking, and raised the ironhigh in air with both his hands. 

"Stand back!" he cried as Marietta came nearer. 

The first blow knocked a large piece of earthenware from the side of thestrong jar, and a quantity of broken red glass poured out, as red asblood from a wound, and fell with little crashes upon the stone floor. Beroviero raised the crowbar again and again and brought it down withall his might. At the fourth stroke the whole jar went to pieces, leaving nothing but a red heap of smashed glass, round about which laythe big fragments of the jar. In the middle of the heap, the corner ofthe iron box appeared, sticking up like a black stone. 

"At last!" exclaimed the old man, flushed with satisfaction. "Giovannihad not thought of this. "

He cleared away the shivers and gently pushed the box out of its bedwith the crowbar. He soon got it out on the floor, and with someprecaution, lest any stray splinter should cut his fingers, he set itupon the table. Then he took the key from his neck and opened it. 

Marietta's belief in Zorzi had never wavered, from the first, butBeroviero was more than half sure that the book had been opened. He tookit up with care, turned it over and over in his hands, scrutinised theseal, the strings, the knots, and saw that they were all his own. 

"It is impossible that this should have been undone and tied up again, "he said confidently. 

"Any one could see that at once, " Marietta answered. "Do you believethat Zorzi is innocent?"

"I cannot help believing. But I do not understand. There is the redglass, made by dropping the piece of copper into it. That is in thebook, I am sure. "

"It was an accident, " said Marietta. "The copper ladle fell into theglass. Zorzi told me about it. "

"Are you sure? That is possible. The very same thing happened to PaoloGodi, and that was how he discovered the colour. But there is the whiteglass, which is so like mine, though it is better. That may have been anaccident too. Or the boy may have tried an experiment upon mine byadding something to it. "

"It is at least sure that the book has not been touched, and that is themain thing. You admit that he is quite innocent, do you not? Quite, quite innocent?"

"Yes, I do. It would be very unjust not to admit it. "

Marietta drew a long breath of relief, for she had scarcely hoped toaccomplish so much in so short a time. The rest would follow, she feltsure. 

"I would give a great deal to see Zorzi at once, " said her father, atlast, as he replaced the manuscript in the box and shut the lid. 

"Not half as much as I would!" Marietta almost laughed, as she spoke. "Father, " she added gently, and resting one hand upon his shoulder, "Ihave given you back your book, I have given you back the innocent manyou trusted, instead of the villain invented by my brother. What willyou give me?"

She smiled and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. He shook his heada little, and would not answer. 

"Would it be so hard to say that you ask another year's time before themarriage? And then, you know, you could ask it again, and they wouldsoon be tired of waiting and would break it off themselves. "

"Do not suggest such woman's tricks to me, " answered her father; but hecould not help smiling. 

"Oh, you may find a better way, " Marietta said. "But that would be soeasy, would it not? Your daughter is so young--her health is somewhatdelicate--"

She was interrupted by a knock at the door, and Pasquale entered. 

"The Signor Giovanni is without, sir, " said the porter. "He desires totake leave of you, as he is returning to his own house to-day. "

"Let him come in, " said Beroviero, his face darkening all at once. 

CHAPTER XXI

Giovanni entered the laboratory confidently, not even knowing thatMarietta was with her father, and not suspecting that he could haveanything to fear from her. 

"I have come to take my leave of you, sir, " he began, going towards hisfather at once. 

He did not see the broken jar, which was at some distance from the door. 

"Before you go, " said Beroviero coldly, "pray look at this. "

Giovanni saw the box on the table, but did not understand, as he hadnever seen it before. His father again took the key from his neck andopened the casket. 

"This is Paolo Godi's manuscript, " he said, without changing his tone. "You see, here is the book. The seal is unbroken. It is exactly as Ileft it when Zorzi and I buried it together. You suspected him of havingopened it, and I confess that you made me suspect him, too. For the sakeof justice, convince yourself. "

Giovanni's face was drawn with lines of vexation and anxiety. 

"It was hidden in the jar of broken glass, " Beroviero explained. "Youdid not think of looking there. "

"No--nor you, sir. "

"I mean that you did not look there when you searched for it alone, immediately after Zorzi was arrested. "

Giovanni was pale now, but he raised both hands and turned up his eyesas if calling upon heaven to witness his innocence. 

"I swear to you, " he began, "on the body of the blessed Saint Donatus--"

Beroviero interrupted him. 

"I did not ask you to swear by anything, " he said. "I know the truth. The less you say of what has happened, the better it will be for you inthe end. "

"I suppose my sister has been poisoning your mind against me as usual. Can she explain how her mantle came here?"

"It does not concern you to know how it came here, " answered Beroviero. "By your wholly unjustifiable haste, to say nothing worse, you havecaused an innocent man to be arrested, and his rescue and disappearancehave made matters much worse. I do not care to ask what your object hasbeen. Keep it to yourself, pray, and do not remind me of this affairwhen we meet, for after all, you are my son. You came to take yourleave, I think. Go home, then, by all means. "

Without a word, Giovanni went out, biting his thin lip and reflectingmournfully upon the change in his position since he had talked with hisfather in the morning. While they had been speaking Marietta had gone toa little distance, affecting to unfold the mantle and fold it againaccording to feminine rules. As she heard the door shut again sheglanced at her father's face, and saw that he was looking at her. 

"I told you that I was learning patience to-day, " he said. "I longed tolay my hands on him. "

"You frightened him much more by what you said, " answered Marietta. 

"Perhaps. Never mind! He is gone. The question is how to find Zorzi. That is the first thing, and then we must undo the mischief Giovanni hasdone. "

"I think Pasquale must have some clue by which we may find Zorzi, "suggested Marietta. 

Pasquale was called at once. He stood with his legs bowed, holding hisold cap in both hands, his small bloodshot eyes fixed on his master'sface with a look of inquiry. He was more than ever like a savage oldwatch-dog. 

"Yes, sir, " he said in answer to Beroviero's question, "I can tell yousomething. Two men were looking on last night when the Signor Giovannimade me open the door to the Governor's soldiers. They wore hoods overtheir eyes, but I am certain that one of them was that Greek captain whocame here one morning before you went away. When Zorzi came out, theGreek walked off, up the footway and past the bridge. The other waitedtill they were all gone and till Signor Giovanni had come in. Hewhispered quickly in my ear, 'Zorzi is safe. ' Then he went after theothers. I could see that he had a short staff hidden under his cloak, and that he was a man with bones like an ox. But he was not so big aman as the captain. Then I knew that two such men, who were seamenaccustomed to using their hands, quick on their feet and seeing well inthe dark, as we all do, could pitch the officer over the tower of SanPiero, if they chose, with all his sleazy crew of lubberly, dressed-upboobies, armed with overgrown boat-hooks. This I thought, and so ithappened. That is what I know. "

"But why should Captain Aristarchi care whether Zorzi were arrested ornot?" asked Beroviero. 

"This the saints may know in paradise, " answered Pasquale, "but not I. "

"Has the captain been here again?" asked Beroviero, completely puzzled. 

"No, sir. But I should have told you that one morning there came apatrician of Venice, Messer Zuan Venier, who wished to see you, being afriend of Messer Jacopo Contarini, and when he heard that you were awayhe desired to see Zorzi, and stayed some time. "

"I know him by name, " said Beroviero, nodding. "But there can be noconnection between him and this Greek. "

Pasquale snarled and showed his teeth at the mere idea, for his instincttold him that Aristarchi was a pirate, or had been one, and he was by nomeans sure that the Greek had carried off Zorzi for any good purpose. 

"Pasquale, " said Beroviero, "it is long since you have had a holiday. Take the skiff to-morrow morning, and go over to Venice. You are aseaman and you can easily find out from the sailors about the Giudeccawho this Aristarchi really is, and where he lives. Then try to see himand tell him that Zorzi is innocent of all the charges against him, andthat if he will come back I will protect him. Can you do that?"

Pasquale gave signs of great satisfaction, by growling and grinning atthe same time, and his lids drew themselves into a hundred wrinkles tillhis eyes seemed no bigger than two red Murano beads. 

Then Beroviero and Marietta went back to the house, and the young girlcarried the folded mantle under her cloak. Before going to her own roomshe opened it out, as if it had been worn, and dropped it behind abench-box in the large room, as if it had fallen from her shoulderswhile she had been sitting there; and in due time it was found by one ofthe men-servants, who brought it back to Nella. 

"You are so careless, my pretty lady!" cried the serving-woman, holdingup her hands. 

"Yes, " answered Marietta, "I know it. "

"So careless!" repeated Nella. "Nothing has any value for you! Some dayyou will forget your face in the mirror and go away without it, and thenthey will say it is Nella's fault!"

Marietta laughed lightly, for she was happy. It was clear thateverything was to end well, though it might be long before her fatherwould consent to let her marry Zorzi. She felt quite sure that he wassafe, though he might lie far away by this time. 

Beroviero returned at once to the Governor's house, and did his best toundo the mischief. But to his unspeakable disappointment he found thatthe Governor's report had already gone to the Council of Ten, so thatthe matter had passed altogether out of his hands. The Council wouldcertainly find Zorzi, if he were in Venice, and within two or threedays, at the utmost, if not within a few hours; for the Signors of theNight were very vigilant and their men knew every hiding-place inVenice. Zorzi, said the Governor, would certainly be taken into custodyunless he had escaped to the mainland. Beroviero could have wrung hishands for sheer despair, and when he told Marietta the result of hissecond visit to the Governor, her heart sank, for Zorzi's danger wasgreater than ever before, and it was not likely that a man who had beenso mysteriously rescued, to the manifest injury and disgrace of thosewho were taking him to prison, could escape torture. He would certainlybe suspected of connivance with secret enemies of the Republic. 

Beroviero bethought him of the friends he had in Venice, to whom hemight apply for help in his difficulty. In the first place there wasMesser Luigi Foscarini, a Procurator of Saint Mark; but he had not beenlong in office, and he would probably not wish to be concerned in anymatter which tended to oppose authority. And there was old Contarini, who was himself one of the Ten; Beroviero knew his character well andjudged that he would not be lenient towards any one who had beenforcibly rescued, no matter how innocent he might be. Moreover the lawagainst foreigners who attempted to work in glass was in force, and verystringent. Contarini, like many over-wise men who have no controlwhatever over their own children, was always for excessive severity inall processes of the law. Beroviero thought of some others, but againsteach one he found some real objection. 

Sitting in his chair after supper, he talked earnestly of the matterwith Marietta, who sat opposite him with her work, by the large brasslamp. For the present he had almost forgotten the question of hermarriage, for all his former affection for Zorzi had returned, with theconviction of his innocence, and the case was very urgent. That verynight Zorzi might be found, and on the next morning he might be broughtbefore the Ten to be examined. Marietta thought with terror of the awfultales Nella had told her about the little torture chamber behind thehall of the Council. 

"Who is that Messer Zuan Venier, who came to see Zorzi?" asked Mariettasuddenly. 

"A young man who fought very bravely in the East, I believe, " answeredBeroviero. "His father was the Admiral of the Republic for some time. "

"He has talked with Zorzi, " said Marietta. "Pasquale said so. He musthave liked him, of course; and none of the other patricians you havementioned have ever seen him. Messer Zuan is not in office, and hasnothing to lose. Perhaps he will be willing to use his influence withhis father. If only the Ten could know the whole truth before Zorzi isbrought before them, it would be very different. "

Beroviero saw that there was some wisdom in applying to a younger man, like Zuan Venier, who had nothing at stake, and since Venier had come tovisit him, there could be nothing strange in his returning the courtesyas soon as he conveniently could. 

On the following morning therefore the master betook himself to Venicein his gondola. Pasquale was already gone in the skiff, on the errandentrusted to him. He had judged it best not to put on his Sundayclothes, nor his clean shirt, nor to waste time in improving hisappearance at the barber's, for he had been shaved on Saturday night asusual and the week was not yet half over. Hidden in the bow of thelittle boat there lay his provision for the day, half a loaf of bread, athick slice of cheese and two onions, with an earthen bottle of water. With these supplies the old sailor knew that he could roam the canals ofVenice for twenty-four hours if he chose, and he also had some money incase it should seem wise to ply an acquaintance with a little strongwine in order to promote conversation. 

The morning was sultry and a light haze hung over the islands atsunrise, which is by no means usual. Pasquale sniffed the air as herowed himself through the narrow canals. There was a mingled smell ofstagnant salt water, cabbage stalks, water-melons and wood smoke longunfamiliar to him, and reminding him pleasantly of his childhood. Wherever a bit of stone pier ran along by an open space, scores ofolive-skinned boys were bathing, and as he passed they yelled at him andsplashed him. Many a time he had done the same, long ago, and hadsometimes got a sharp knock from the blade of an oar for his pains. 

The high walls made brown shadows, that struck across the greenishwater, shivering away to long streaks of broken light and shade, andtrying to dance and rock themselves together for a moment before apassing boat disturbed them again. In the shade boats were moored, ladenwith fresh vegetables, and with jars of milk brought in from the islandsand the mainland before dawn. From open windows, here and there, red-haired women with dark eyes looked down idly, and breathed themorning air for a few minutes before beginning their household work. Thebells of Saint John and Saint Paul were ringing to low mass, and a fewold women with black shawls over their heads, and wooden clogs on theirfeet, made a faint clattering as they straggled to the door. 

It was long since Pasquale had been in Venice. He could not rememberexactly how many years had passed, but the city had changed little, andstill after many centuries there is but little and slow change. The waysand turnings were as familiar to him as ever, and would have beenunforgotten if he had never taken the trouble to cross the lagoon again, to his dying day. The soft sounds, the violent colours, the splendidgloom of deep-arched halls that went straight from the great open doorat the water's edge to the shadowy heart of the palace within; theboatmen polishing the metal work of their gondolas with brick dust andolive oil; the servants, still in rough working clothes, sweeping thesteps, and trimming off the charred hemp-wicks of torches that had beenused in the night; the single woman's voice far overhead that broke thesilence of some narrow way, singing its song for sheer gladness of anidle heart; it was all as it used to be, and Pasquale had a dimconsciousness that he loved it better than his dreary little den inMurano, and better than his Sunday walk as far as San Donato, when allthe handsome women and pretty girls of the smaller people were laughingaway the cool hours and showing off their little fineries. It was but avague suggestion of a sentiment with him, and no more. He knew that heshould starve if he came back to Venice, and what was the pleasant smellof the cabbage stalks and water-melons that it should compare with thesecurity of daily bread and lodging, with some money to spare, and twosuits of clothes every year, which his master gave him in return forkeeping a single door shut?

He pushed out upon the Grand Canal, where as yet there were few boatsand no gondolas at all, and soon he turned the corner of the Salute androwed out slowly upon the Giudecca, where the merchant vessels lay atanchor, large and small, galliots and feluccas and many a broad'trabacolo' from the Istrian coast, with huge spreading bows, and hawseports painted scarlet like great red eyes. The old sailor's heart wasgladdened by the sight of them, and as he rested on his single oar, hegently cursed the land, and all landlocked places, and rivers and freshwater, and all lakes and inland canals, and wished himself once more onthe high seas with a stout vessel, a lazy captain, a dozen hard-fistedshipmates and a quarter of a century less to his account of years. 

He had been dreaming a little, and now he bent to the oar again and sentthe skiff quietly along by the pier, looking out for any idle seamen whomight be led into conversation. Before long he spied a couple, sittingon the edge of the stones near some steps and fishing with long canes. He passed them, of course, without looking at them, lest they shouldsuspect that he had come their way purposely, and he made the skiff fastby the stair, after which he sat down on a thwart and stared vacantly atthings in general, being careful not to bestow a glance on the two men. Presently one of them caught a small fish, and Pasquale judged that themoment for scraping an acquaintance had begun. He turned his head andwatched how the man unhooked the fish and dropped it flapping into abasket made of half-dried rushes. 

"There are no whales in the canal, " he observed. "There are not eventunny fish. But what there is, it seems that you know how to catch. "

"I do what I can, according to my little skill, " answered the man. "Itpasses the time, and then it is always something to eat with thebread. "

"Yes, " Pasquale answered. "A roasted fish on bread with a little oil isvery savoury. As for passing the time, I suppose that you are lookingfor a ship. "

"Of course, " the man replied. "If we had a ship we should not be herefishing! It is a bad time of the year, you must know, for most of theVenetian vessels are at sea, and we do not care to ship with anyNeapolitan captain who chances to have starved some of his crew todeath!"

"I have heard of a rich Greek merchant captain who has been in Venicesome time, " observed Pasquale carelessly. "He will be looking out for acrew before long. "

"Is Captain Aristarchi going to sea at last?" asked the man who had notspoken yet. "Or do you mean some other captain?"

"That is the name, I believe, " said Pasquale. "It was an outlandish namelike that. Do you ever see him about the docks? I saw him once, a pieceof man, I tell you, with bones like a bull and a face like a bear. "

"He is not often seen, " answered the man who had spoken last. "That ishis ship; over there, between the 'trabacolo' and the dismasted hulk. "

"I see her, " returned Pasquale at once. "A thorough Greek she is, too, by her looks, but well kept enough if she is only, waiting for a cargo, with two or three hands on board. "

The men laughed a little at Pasquale's ignorance concerning the vessel. 

"She has a full crew, " said one. "She is always ready for sea at anymoment, with provisions and water. No one can understand what thecaptain means, nor why he is here, nor why he is willing to pay twentymen for doing nothing. "

"Does the captain live on board of her?" inquired Pasqualeindifferently. 

"Not he! He is amusing himself in Venice. He has hired a house by themonth, not far from the Baker's Bridge, and there he has been living fora long time. "

"He must be very rich, " observed Pasquale, who had found out what hewished to know, but was too wise to let the conversation drop tooabruptly. "From what you say, however, he needs no more hands on hisvessel, " he added. 

"It is not for us, " answered the man. "We will ship with a captain weknow, and with shipmates from our own country, who are Christians andunderstand the compass. "

This he said because all sea-going vessels did not carry a compass inthose days. 

"And until we can pick up a ship we like, " added the other man, "we willlive on bread and water, and if we can catch a fish now and then in thecanal, so much the better. "

Pasquale cast off the bit of line that moored his skiff, shipped hissingle oar, and with a parting word to the men, he pushed off. 

"You are quite right!" he said. "Eh! A roast fish is a savoury thing. "

They nodded to him and again became intent on their pastime. Pasqualerowed faster than before, and he passed close under the stern of theGreek vessel. The mate was leaning over the taffrail under the poopawning. He was dressed in baggy garments of spotless white, his big bluecap was stuck far back on his head, and his strong brown arms were bareto the elbow. He looked as broad as he was long. 

"Is the captain on board, sir?" asked Pasquale, at a venture, butlooking at the mate with interest. 

He expected that he would answer the question in the negative, bysticking out his jaw and throwing his head a little backward. To hissurprise the mate returned his gaze a moment, and then stood upright. 

"Keep under the counter, " he said in fairly good Italian. "I will go andsee if the captain is in his cabin. "

Pasquale waited, and in a few moments the mate returned, dropped aJacob's ladder over the taffrail and made it fast on board. Pasqualehitched the painter of the skiff to the end that hung down, and went upeasily enough in spite of his age and stiffened joints. He climbed overthe rail and stood beside the mate. The instant his feet touched thewhite deck he wished he had put on his Sunday hose and his clean shirt. He touched his cap, as he assuredly would not have done ashore, to anyone but his master. 

"You seem to have been a sailor, " said the Greek mate, in an approvingtone. 

"Yes, sir, " answered Pasquale. "Is Zorzi still safe?"

"The captain will tell you about Zorzi, " was the mate's answer, as heled the way. 

Aristarchi was seated with one leg under him on a inroad transom overwhich was spread a priceless Persian silk carpet, such as the richestpatrician in Venice would have hung on the wall like a tapestry of greatvalue. He looked at Pasquale, and the latter heard the door shut behindhim. At the same instant a well-known voice greeted him by name, asZorzi himself appeared from the inner cabin. 

"I did not expect to find you so soon, " said the porter with a growl ofsatisfaction. 

"I wish you had found him sooner, " laughed Aristarchi carelessly. "Andsince you are here, I hope you will carry him off with you and never letme see his face again, till all this disturbance is over! I would ratherhave carried off the Doge himself, with his precious velvet night-cap onhis head, than have taken this fellow the other night. All Venice isafter him. I was just going to drown him, to get rid of him. "

There was a sort of savage good-nature in the Greek's tone which wasreassuring, in spite of his ferocious looks and words. 

"You would have been hanged if you had, " observed Pasquale in answer tothe last words. 

Zorzi was evidently none the worse for what had happened to him sincehis arrest and unexpected liberation. He was not of the sort that sufferby the imagination when there is real danger, for he had plenty of goodsense. Pasquale told him that the master had returned. 

"We knew it yesterday, " Zorzi answered. "The captain seems to knoweverything. "

"Listen to me, friend porter, " Aristarchi said. "If you will take thisyoung fellow with you I shall be obliged to you. I took him from theGovernor's men out of mere kindness of heart, because I liked him thefirst time I saw him, but the Ten are determined to get him into theirhands, and I have no fancy to go with him and answer for the half-dozencrowns my mate and I broke in that frolic at Murano. "

Pasquale's small eyes twinkled at the thought of the discomfitedarchers. 

"We have changed our lodgings three times since yesterday afternoon, "continued Aristarchi, "and I am tired of carrying this lamebottle-blower up and down rope ladders, when the Signors of the Nightare at the door. So drop him over the rail into your boat and let melead a peaceful life. "

"Like an honest merchant captain as you are, " added Pasquale with agrin. "We have been anxious for you, " he added, looking at Zorzi. "Themaster is in Venice this morning, to see his friends on your behalf, Ithink. "

"If we go back openly, " said Zorzi, "we may both be taken at anymoment. "

"If they catch me, " answered Pasquale, "they will heave me overboard. Iam not worth salting. But they need not catch either of us. Once in thelaboratory at Murano, they will never find you. That is the one placewhere they will not look for you. "

The mate put his head down through the small hatch overhead. 

"I do not like the look of a boat that has just put off from SaintGeorge's, " he said. 

Aristarchi sprang to his feet. 

"Pick him up and drop him into the porter's skiff, " he said. "I am sickof dancing with the fellow in my arms. "

With incredible ease Aristarchi took Zorzi round the waist, mounted thecabin table and passed him up through the hatch to the mate, who hadalready brought him to the Jacob's ladder at the stern before Pasqualecould get there by the ordinary way. 

"Quick, man!" said the mate, as the old sailor climbed over the rail. 

At the same time he slipped the bight of short rope round Zorzi's bodyunder his arms and got a turn round the rail with both parts, so as tolower him easily. Zorzi helped himself as well as he could, and in a fewmoments he was lying in the bottom of the skiff, covered with a piece ofsacking which the mate threw down, the rope ladder was hauled up anddisappeared, and when Pasquale glanced back as he rowed slowly away, themate was leaning over the taffrail in an attitude of easy unconcern. 

The old porter had smuggled more than one bale of rich goods ashore inhis young days, for a captain who had a dislike of the customs, and heknew that his chance of safety lay not in speed, but in showing a coolindifference. He might have dropped down the Giudecca at a good rate, for the tide was fair, but he preferred a direction that would take himright across the course of the boat which the mate had seen coming, asif he were on his way to the Lido. 

The officer of the Ten, with four men in plain brown coats and leathernbelts, sat in the stern of the eight-oared launch that swept swiftlypast the skiff towards the vessels at anchor. Pasquale rested on his oara moment and turned to look, with an air of interest that would havedisarmed any suspicions the officer might have entertained. But he hadnone, and did not bestow a second glance on the little craft with itsshabby oarsman. Then Pasquale began to row again, with a long evenstroke that had no air of haste about it, but which kept the skiff at agood speed. When he saw that he was out of hearing of other boats, andheading for the Lido, he began to tell what he intended to do next, in alow monotonous tone, glancing down now and then at Zorzi's face thatcautiously peered at him out from the folds of the sackcloth. 

"I will tell you when to cover yourself, " he said, speaking at thehorizon. "We shall have to spend the day under one of the islands. Ihave some bread and cheese and water, and there are onions. When it isnight I will just slip into our canal at Murano, and you can sleep inthe laboratory, as if you had never left it. "

"If they find me there, they cannot say that I am hiding, " said Zorziwith a low laugh. 

"Lie low, " said Pasquale softly. "There is a boat coming. "

For ten minutes neither spoke, and Zorzi lay quite still, covering hisface. When the danger was past Pasquale began to talk again, and toldhim all he himself knew of what had happened, which was not much, butwhich included the assurance that the master was for him, and had turnedagainst Giovanni. 

"As for me, " said Zorzi, by and by, when they were moored to a stake, far out in the lagoon, "I was whirled from place to place by those twomen, till I did not know where I was. When they first carried me off, they made me lie in the bottom of their boat as I am lying now, and theytook me to a house somewhere near the Baker's Bridge. Do you know thehouse of the Agnus Dei?"

Pasquale grunted. 

"It was not far from that, " Zorzi continued. "Aristarchi lives there. The mate went back to the ship, I suppose, and Aristarchi's servant gaveus supper. Then we slept quietly till morning and I stayed there allday, but Aristarchi thought it would not be safe to keep me in his housethe next night--that was last night. He said he feared that a certainlady had guessed where I was. He is a mysterious individual, this Greek!So I was taken somewhere else in the bottom of a boat, after dark. I donot know where it was, but I think it must have been the garret of sometavern where they play dice. After midnight I heard a great commotionbelow me, and presently Aristarchi appeared at the window with a rope. He always seems to have a coil of rope within reach! He tied me tohim--it was like being tied to a wild horse--and he got us safely downfrom the window to the boat again, and the mate was in it, and they tookme to the ship faster than I was ever rowed in my life. You know therest. "

All through the long July day they lay in the fierce sun, shadingthemselves with the sacking as best they could. But when it was dark atlast, Pasquale cast off and headed the skiff for Murano. 

CHAPTER XXII

Jacopo Contarini's luck at dice had changed of late, and his friends nolonger spoke of losing like him, but of winning as he did, on almostevery throw. 

"Nevertheless, " said the big Foscari to Zuan Venier, "his love affairsseem to prosper! The Georgian is as beautiful as ever, and he is goingto marry a rich wife. "

It was the afternoon of the day on which Zorzi had left Aristarchi'sship, and the two patricians were lounging in the shady Merceria, wherethe overhanging balconies of the wooden houses almost met above, and themerchants sat below in the windows of their deep shops, on the littleplatforms which were at once counters and window-sills. The street smeltof Eastern silks and Spanish leather, and of the Egyptian pastils whichthe merchants of perfumery continually burnt in order to attract custom. 

"I am not qualmish, " answered Venier languidly, "yet it sickens me tothink of the life Jacopo means to lead. I am sorry for the glass-maker'sdaughter. "

Foscari laughed carelessly. The idea that a woman should be looked uponas anything more than a slave or an object of prey had never occurred tohim. But Venier did not smile. 

"Since we speak of glass-makers, " he said, "Jacopo is doing his best toget that unlucky Dalmatian imprisoned and banished. Old Beroviero cameto see me this morning and told me a long story about it, which I cannotpossibly remember; but it seems to me--you understand!"

He spoke in low tones, for the Merceria was crowded. Foscari, who wasone of those who took most seriously the ceremonial of the secretsociety, while not caring a straw for its political side, looked verygrave. 

"It is of no use to say that the poor fellow is only a glass-blower, "Venier continued. "There are men besides patricians in the world, andgood men, too. I mean to tell Contarini what I think of it to-night. "

"I will, too, " said Foscari at once. 

"And I intend to use all the influence my family has, to obtain a fairhearing for the Dalmatian. I hope you will help me. Amongst us we canreach every one of the Council of Ten, except old Contarini, who has thesoul of a school-master and the intelligence of a crab. If I did notlike the fellow, I suppose I should let him be hanged several timesrather than take so much trouble. Sins of omission are my strongestpoint. I have always surprised my confessor at Easter by theextraordinary number of things I have left undone. "

"I daresay, " laughed Foscari, "but I remember that you were not toolazy to save me from drowning when I fell into the Grand Canal incarnival. "

"I forgot that the water was so cold, " said Venier. "If I had guessedhow chilly it was, I should certainly not have pulled you out. There isold Hossein at his window. Let us go in and drink sherbet. "

"We shall find Mocenigo and Loredan there, " answered Foscari. "Theyshall promise to help the glass-blower, too. "

They nodded to the Persian merchant, who saluted them by extending hishand towards the ground as if to take up dust, and then bringing it tohis forehead. He was very fat, and his pear-shaped face might have beencarved out of white cheese. The two young men went in by a small door atthe side of the window-counter and disappeared into the interior. At theback of the shop there was a private room with a latticed window thatlooked out upon a narrow canal. It was one of many places where theyoung Venetians met in the afternoon to play at dice undisturbed, onpretence of examining Hossein's splendid carpets and Oriental silks. Moreover Hossein's wife, always invisible but ever near, had amarvellous gift for making fruit sherbets, cooled with the snow that wasbrought down daily from the mountains on the mainland in dripping balescovered with straw matting. 

Loredan and Mocenigo were already there, as Foscari had anticipated, eating pistachio nuts and sipping sherbet through rice straws out oftall glasses from Murano. It was a very safe place, for Hossein'sknowledge of the Italian language was of a purely commercial character, embracing every numeral and fraction, common or uncommon, and the namesof all the hundreds of foreign coins that passed current in Venice, together with half-a-dozen necessary phrases; and his invisible butoccasionally audible wife understood no Italian at all. Also, Hosseinwas always willing to lend any young patrician money with which to payhis losses, at the modest rate of seven ducats to be paid every week forthe use of each hundred; which one of the youths, who had a turn forarithmetic, had discovered to be only about 364 per cent yearly, whereasCasadio, the Hebrew, had a method of his own by which he managed to getabout 580. It was therefore a real economy to frequent Hossein's shop. 

In spite of his pretended forgetfulness, Venier remembered every wordthat Beroviero had told him, and indolently as he talked, his wholenature was roused to defend Zorzi. In his heart he despised Contarini, and hoped that his marriage might never take place, for he was sincerelysorry for Marietta; but it was Jacopo's behaviour towards Zorzi thatcalled forth his wrath, it was the man's disdainful assumption thatbecause Zorzi was not a patrician, the oath to defend every companion ofthe society was not binding where he was concerned; it was the insolentcertainty that the others should all be glad to be rid of the poorDalmatian, who after all had not troubled them over-much with hiscompany. On that very evening they were to meet at the house of theAgnus Dei, and Venier was determined to speak his mind. When he choseto exert himself, his influence over his companions was very great, ifnot supreme. 

He soon brought Mocenigo and Loredan to share his opinion and to promisethe support of all their many relations in Zorzi's favour, and the fourbegan to play, for lack of anything better to do. Before long others ofthe society came in, and as each arrived Venier, who only played inorder not to seem as unsociable as he generally felt, set down the dicebox to gain over a new ally. An hour had passed when Contarini himselfappeared, even more magnificent than usual, his beautiful waving beardmost carefully trimmed and combed as if to show it to its greatestadvantage against the purple silk of a surcoat cut in a new fashion andwhich he was wearing for the first time. His white hands were splendidwith jewelled rings, and he wore at his belt a large wallet-purseembroidered in Constantinople before the coming of the Turks and adornedwith three enamelled images of saints. Hossein himself ushered him in, as if he were the guest of honour, as the Persian merchant indeedconsidered him, for none of the others had ever paid him half so manyseven weekly ducats for money borrowed in all their lives, as Jacopo hadoften paid in a single year. 

There are men whom no one respects very highly, who are not sincerelytrusted, whose honour is not spotless and whose ways are far fromstraight, but who nevertheless hold a certain ascendancy over others, bymere show and assurance. When Contarini entered a place where many weregathered together, there was almost always a little hush in the talk, followed by a murmur that was pleasant in his ear. No one paused to lookat Zuan Venier when he came into a room, though there was not one of hisfriends who would not have gone to him in danger or difficulty, withoutso much as thinking of Contarini as a possible helper in trouble. But itwas almost impossible not to feel a sort of artistic surprise atJacopo's extraordinary beauty of face and figure, if not at the splendidgarments in which he delighted to array himself. 

It was with a slight condescension that he greeted the group of players, some of whom at once made a place for him at the table. They had beenready enough to stand by Venier against him in Zorzi's defence, butunless Venier led the way, there was not one of them who would think ofopposing him, or taking him to task for what was very like a betrayal. Venier returned his greeting with some coldness, which Contarini hardlynoticed, as his reception by the others had been sufficientlyflattering. Then they began to play. 

Jacopo won from the first. Foscari bent his heavy eyebrows and tugged athis beard angrily, as he lost one throw after another; the cold sweatstood on Mocenigo's forehead in beads, as he risked more and more, andLoredan's hand trembled when it was his turn to take up the dice boxagainst Contarini; for they played a game in which each threw againstall the rest in succession. 

"You cannot say that the dice are loaded, " laughed Contarini at last, "for they are your own!"

"The delicacy of the thought is only exceeded by the good taste thatexpresses it, " observed Venier. 

"You are sarcastic, my friend, " answered Jacopo, shaking the dice. "Itis your turn with me. "

Jacopo threw first. Venier followed him and lost. 

"That is my last throw, " he said, as he pushed the remains of his smallheap of gold across to Contarini. "I have no more money to-day, norshall I have to-morrow. "

"Hossein has plenty, " suggested Foscari, who hoped that Contarini's luckwould desert him before long. 

"At this rate you will need all he has, " returned Venier with a carelesslaugh. 

Before long more than one of the players was obliged to call in theever-complacent Persian merchant, and the heap of gold grew in front ofJacopo, till he could hardly keep it together. 

"It is true that you have been losing for years, " said Mocenigo, tryingto laugh, "but we did not think you would win back all your losses in aday. "

"You shall have your revenge to-night, " answered Contarini, rising. "Iam expected at a friend's house at this hour. "

His large wallet was so full of gold that he could hardly draw thestrong silken strings together and tie them. 

"A friend's house!" laughed Loredan, who had lost somewhat less than theothers. "It would give us much delight to know the colour of the lady'shair!"

To this Contarini answered only by a smile, which was not devoid ofsatisfaction. 

"Take care!" said Foscari, gloomily contemplating the bare table beforehim, over which so much of his good gold had slipped away. "Take care!Luck at play, mischance in love, says the proverb. "

"Oh! In that case I congratulate you, my dear friend!" returnedContarini gaily. 

The others laughed at the retort, and the party broke up, though all didnot go at once. Venier went out alone, while two or three walked withContarini to his gondola. The rest stayed behind in the shop and madeold Hossein unroll his choicest carpets and show them his most preciousembroideries, though he protested that it was already much too dark toappreciate such choice things. But they did not wish to be seen comingaway in a body, for such playing was very strictly forbidden, and thespies of the Ten were everywhere. 

Contarini dismissed his gondola at the house of the Agnus Dei, and wasadmitted by the trusted servant who had once taken a message to Zorzi. He found Arisa waiting for him in her favourite place by the openwindow, and the glow of the setting sun made little fires in her goldenhair. She could tell by his face that he had been fortunate at play, andher smile was very soft and winning. As he sank down beside her in theluxurious silence of satisfaction, her fingers were stealthily tryingthe weight of his laden wallet. She could not lift it with one hand. Shesmiled again, as she thought how easily Aristarchi would carry the moneyin his teeth, well tied and knotted in a kerchief, when he slipped downthe silk rope from her window, though it would be much wiser to exchangeit for pearls and diamonds which Contarini might see and admire, andwhich she could easily take with her in her final flight. 

He trusted her, too, in his careless way, and that night, when he wasready to go down and admit his companions, he would empty most of thegold into a little coffer in which he often left the key, taking butjust enough to play with, and almost sure of winning more. 

She was very gentle on that evening, when the sun had gone down, andthey sat in the deepening dusk, and she spoke sadly of not seeing himfor several hours. It would be so lonely, she said, and since he couldplay in the daytime, why should he give up half of one precious night tothose tiresome dice? He laughed indolently, pleased that she should noteven suspect the real object of the meetings. 

By and by, when it was an hour after dark, and they had eaten ofdelicate things which a silent old woman brought them on small silverplatters, Contarini went down to let in his guests, and Arisa was alone, as usual on such evenings. For a long time she lay quite still among thecushions, in the dark, for Jacopo had taken the light with him. Sheloved to be in darkness, as she always told him, and for very goodreasons, and she had so accustomed herself to it as to see almost aswell as Aristarchi himself, for whom she was waiting. 

At last she heard the expected signal of his coming, the soft andrepeated splashing of an oar in the water just below the window. In amoment she was in the inner room, to receive him in her straining arms, longing to be half crushed to death in his. But to-night, even as heheld her in the first embrace of meeting, she felt that something hadhappened, and that there was a change in him. She drew him to the littlelight that burned in her chamber before the image, and looked into hisface, terrified at the thought of what she might see there. He smiled ather and raised his shaggy eyebrows as if to ask if she really distrustedhim. 

"Yes, " he said, nodding his big head slowly, "something has happened. You are quick at guessing. We are going to-night. There is moonlight andthe tide will serve in two or three hours. Get ready what you need andput together the jewels and the money. "

"To-night!" cried Arisa, very much surprised. "To-night? Do you reallymean it?"

"Yes. I am in earnest. Michael has emptied my house of all my belongingsto-day and has taken the keys back to the owner. We have plenty of time, for I suppose those overgrown boys are playing at dice downstairs, and Ithink I shall take leave of Contarini in person. "

"You are capable of anything!" laughed Arisa. "I should like to see youtear him into little strips, so that every shred should keep alive to betortured!"

"How amiable! What gentle thoughts you have! Indeed, you women are sweetcreatures!"

With her small white hand she jestingly pretended to box his huge ears. 

"You would be well paid if I refused to go with you, " she said with alow laugh. "But I should like to know why you have decided so suddenly. What is the matter? What is to become of all our plans, and ofContarini's marriage? Tell me quickly!"

"I have had a visit from an officer of the Ten to-day, " he said. "TheTen send me greeting, as it were, and their service, and kindly inviteme to leave Venice within twenty-four hours. As the Ten are the onlypersons in Venice for whom I have the smallest respect, I shall show itby accepting their invitation. "

"But why? What have you done?"

"Of course it is not a serious matter to give a sound beating to anofficer of justice and six of his men, " answered Aristarchi, "but it isnot the custom here, and they suspect me of having done it. To tell thetruth, I think I am hardly treated. I have sent Zorzi back to Murano, and if the Ten have the sense to look for him where he has been livingfor five years, they will find him at once, at work in that stiflingfurnace-room. But I fancy that is too simple for them. "

He told her how Pasquale had come in the morning, and how the officerwho had been in pursuit of him had searched the ship for Zorzi in vain. The order to leave Venice had come an hour later. The anchors were nowup, and the vessel was riding to a kedge by a light hawser, well out inthe channel. As soon as Arisa could be brought on board Aristarchi meantto make sail, for the strong offshore breeze would blow all night. 

"We may as well leave nothing behind, " said Aristarchi coolly. "Michaelwill wait for us below, in one of the ship's boats. There is room forall Contarini's possessions, if we could only get at them. "

"Would it not be better to be content with what we have already, and togo at once?" asked Arisa rather timidly. 

"No, " replied Aristarchi. "I am going to say good-bye to your old friendin my own way. "

"Do you mean to kill him?" asked Arisa in a whisper, though it was quitesafe for them to talk in natural tones. "I could go behind him and throwsomething over his head. "

Aristarchi grinned, and pressed her beautiful head to his breast, caressing her with his rough hands. 

"You are as bloodthirsty as a little tigress, " he said. "No. I do noteven mean to hurt him. "

"Oh, I hoped you would, " answered the Georgian woman. "I have hated himso long. Will you not kill him, just to please me? We could wind him ina sheet with a weight, you know, and drop him into the canal, and no onewould ever know. I have often thought of it. "

"Have you, my gentle little sweetheart?" Aristarchi chuckled withdelight as he stroked her hair. "I am sorry, " he continued. "The factis, I am not a Georgian like you. I have been brought up among people ofcivilisation, and I have scruples about killing any one. Besides, sweetdove, if we were to kill the son of one of the Council of Ten, theCouncil would pursue us wherever we went, for Venice is very powerful. But the Ten will not lift a hand to revenge a good-for-nothing younggamester whose slave has run away with her first love! Every one willlaugh at Contarini if he tries to get redress. It is better to laughthan to be laughed at, it is better to be laughed at than to cry, it isbetter to cry one's eyes blind than to be hanged. "

Having delivered himself of these opinions Aristarchi began to lookabout him for whatever might be worth the trouble of carrying off, andArisa collected all her jewels from the caskets in which they were kept, and little bags of gold coins which she had hidden in different places. She also lit a candle and brought Aristarchi to the small coffer inwhich Contarini kept ready gold for play, and which was now more thanhalf full. 

"The dowry of the glass-maker's daughter!" observed the Greek as hecarried it off. 

There were small objects of gold and silver on the tables in the largeroom, there was a dagger with a jewelled hilt, an illuminated mass bookin a chased silver case. 

"You will need it on Sundays at sea, " said Aristarchi. 

"I cannot read, " said the Georgian slave regretfully. "But it will be aconsolation to have the missal. "

Aristarchi smiled and tossed the book upon the heap of things. 

"It would be amusing to pay a visit to those young fools downstairs, andto take all their money and leave them locked up for the night, " hesaid, as if a thought had struck him. 

"There are too many of them, " answered Arisa, laying her hand anxiouslyupon his arm. "And they are all armed. Please do nothing so foolish. "

"If they are all like Contarini, I do not mind twenty of them or so, "laughed Aristarchi. "They must have more than a thousand gold ducatsamongst them. That would be worth taking. "

"They are not all like Contarini, " said Arisa. "There is Zuan Venier, for instance. "

"Zuan Venier? Is he one of them? I have heard of him. I should like tosee whether he could be frightened, for they say it is impossible. "

Aristarchi scratched his head, pushing his shaggy hair forward over hisforehead, as he tried to think of an effectual scheme for producing thedesired result. 

"The Ten might pursue us for that, as well as for a murder, " said Arisa. 

Meanwhile the friends assembled in the room downstairs had been occupiedfor a long time in hearing what Zuan Venier had to say to JacopoContarini, concerning the latter's treatment of Zorzi. For Venier hadkept his word, and as soon as all were present he had boldly spoken hismind, in a tone which his friends were not accustomed to hear. At firstContarini had answered with offended surprise, asking what concern itcould be of Venier's whether a miserable glass-blower were exiled ornot, and he appealed to the others, asking whether it would not be farbetter for them all that such an outsider as Zorzi should be banishedfrom Venice. But Venier retorted that the Dalmatian had taken the sameoath as the rest of the company, that he was an honest man, besidesbeing a great artist as his master asseverated, and that he had the sameright to the protection of each and all of them as Contarini himself. Tothe latter's astonishment this speech was received with unanimousapprobation, and every man present, except Contarini, promised his helpand that of his family, so far as he might obtain it. 

"I have advised Beroviero, " Venier then continued, "if he can find theyoung artist, to make him go before the Council of Ten of his own freewill, taking some of his works with him. And now that this question issettled, I propose to you all that our society cease to have anypolitical or revolutionary aim whatever, for I am of opinion that we arerisking our necks for a game at dice and for nothing else, which ischildish. The only liberty we are vindicating, so far as I can see, isthat of gaming as much as we please, and if we do that, and nothingmore, we shall certainly not go between the red columns for it. A fineor a few months of banishment to the mainland would be the worst thatcould happen. As things are now, we are not only in danger of losingour heads at any moment, which is an affair of merely relativeimportance, but we may be tempted to make light of a solemn promise, which seems to me a very grave matter. "

Thereupon Venier looked round the table, and almost all the men were ofhis opinion. Contarini flushed angrily, but he knew himself to be in thewrong and though he was no coward, he had not the sort of temper thatfaces opposition for its own sake. He therefore began to rattle the dicein the box as a hint to all that the discussion was at an end. 

But his good fortune seemed gone, and instead of winning at almost everythrow, as he had won in the afternoon, he soon found that he had almostexhausted the heap of gold he had laid on the table, and which he hadthought more than enough. He staked the remainder with Foscari, who wonit at a cast, and laughed. 

"You offered us our revenge, " said the big man. "We mean to take it!"

But though Contarini was not a good fighter, he was a good gamester, andnever allowed himself to be disturbed by ill-luck. He joined in thelaugh and rose from the table. 

"You must forgive me, " he said, "if I leave you for a moment. I mustfill my purse before I play again. "

"Do not stay too long!" laughed Loredan. "If you do, we shall come andget you, and then we shall know the colour of the lady's hair. "

Contarini laughed as he went to the door, opened it and stealthily setthe key in the lock on the outside. 

"I shall lock you in while I am gone!" he cried. "You are far tooinquisitive!"

Laughing gaily he turned the key on the whole company, and he heardtheir answering laughter as he went away, for they accepted the jest, and continued playing. 

He entered the large room upstairs, just as Aristarchi had finishedtying up the heavy bundle in the inner chamber. Arisa heard thewell-known footstep, and placed one hand over Aristarchi's mouth, lesthe should speak, while the other pointed to the curtained door. TheGreek held his breath. 

"Arisa! Arisa!" Contarini called out. "Bring me a light, sweetest!"

Without hesitation Arisa took the lighted candle, and making a gestureof warning to Aristarchi went quickly to the other room. The Greek crepttowards the door, the big veins standing out like knots on his ruggedtemples, his great hands opened wide, with the tips of the fingers alittle turned in. He was like a wrestler ready to get his hold with aspring. 

"I want some more money, " Contarini was saying, in explanation. "Theysaid they would follow me if I stayed too long, so I have locked themin! I think I shall keep them waiting a while. What do you say, love?"

He laughed again, aloud, and on the other side of the curtain Aristarchigrinned from ear to ear and noiselessly loosened the black sash he woreround his waist. For once in his life, as Zorzi would have said, he hadnot a coil of rope at hand when he needed it, but the sash was strongand would serve the purpose. He pushed the curtain aside, a very little, in order to see before springing. 

Contarini stood half turned away from the door, clasping Arisa to hisbreast and kissing her hair. The next moment he was sprawling on thefloor, face downwards, and Arisa was pressing one of the soft cushionsfrom the divan upon his head to smother his cries, while Aristarchibound his hands firmly together behind him with one end of the longsash, and in spite of his desperate struggle got a turn with the restround both his feet, drew them back as far as he could and hitched theend twice. Jacopo was now perfectly helpless, but he was not yet dumb. Aristarchi had brought his tools with him, in the bosom of his doublet. 

Kneeling on Contarini's shoulders he took out a small iron instrument, shaped exactly like a pear, but which by a screw, placed where the stemwould be, could be made to open out in four parts that spread like thepetals of a flower. Arisa looked on with savage interest, for shebelieved that it was some horrible instrument of torture; and indeed itwas the iron gag, the 'pear of anguish, ' which the torturers used inthose days, to silence those whom they called their patients. 

Holding the instrument closed, Aristarchi pushed his hand under thecushion. He knew that Contarini's mouth would be open, as he must behalf suffocated and gasping for breath. In an instant the iron pear hadslipped between his teeth and had opened its relentless leaves, obedientto the screw. 

"Take the pillow away, " said Aristarchi quietly. "We can say good-bye toyour old acquaintance now, but he will have to content himself withnodding his head in a friendly way. "

He turned the helpless man upon his side, for owing to the position ofhis heels and hands Contarini could not lie on his back. Then Aristarchiset the candle on the floor near his face and looked at him and indulgedhimself in a low laugh. Contarini's face was deep red with rage andsuffocation, and his beautiful brown eyes were starting from theirsockets with a terror which increased when he saw far the first time theman with whom he had to deal, or rather who was about to deal with him, and most probably without mercy. Then he caught sight of Arisa, smilingat him, but not as she had been wont to smile. Aristarchi spoke at last, in an easy, reassuring tone. 

"My friend, " he said, "I am not going to hurt you any more. You maythink it strange, but I really shall not kill you. Arisa and I haveloved each other for a long time, and since she has lived here, I havecome to her almost every night. I know your house almost as well as youdo, and you have kindly told me that your friends are all looked in. Weshall therefore not have the trouble of leaving by the window, since wecan go out by the front door, where my boat will be waiting for us. Youwill never see us again. "

Contarini's eyes rolled wildly, and still Arisa smiled. 

"You have made him suffer, " she said. "He loved me. "

"Before we go, " continued the Greek, folding his arms and looking downupon his miserable enemy, "I think it fair to warn you that under thepraying-stool in Arisa's room there is an air shaft through which wehave heard all your conversation, during these secret meetings of yours. If you try to pursue us, I shall send information to the Ten, which willcut off most of your heads. As they are so empty it might seem to bescarcely worth while to take them, but the Ten know best. I can rely onyour discretion. If I were not sure of it I would accede to this dearlady's urgent request and cut you up into small pieces. "

Contarini writhed and sputtered, but could make no sound. 

"I promised not to hurt you any more, my friend, and I am a man of myword. But I have long admired your hair and beard. You see I was inSaint Mark's when you went there to meet the glass-maker's daughter, andI have seen you at other times. I should be sorry never to see such abeautiful beard again, so I mean to take it with me, and if you willkeep quiet, I shall really not hurt you. "

Thereupon he produced from his doublet a bright pair of shears, andknelt down by the wretched man's head. Contarini twisted himself as bemight and tried instinctively to draw his head away. 

"I have heard that pirates sometimes accidentally cut off a prisoner'sear, " said Aristarchi. "If you will not move, I am quite sure that Ishall not be so awkward as to do that. "

Contarini now lay motionless, and Aristarchi went to work. With theutmost neatness he cropped off the silky hair, so close to Jacopo'sskull that it almost looked as if it had been shaved with a razor. Inthe same way he clipped the splendid beard away, and even the browneyebrows, till there was not a hair left on Contarini's head or face. Then he contemplated his work, and laughed at the weak jaw and thewomanish mouth. 

"You look like an ugly woman in man's clothes, " he said, by way ofconsoling his victim. 

He rose now, for he feared lest Contarini's friends might break open thedoor downstairs. He shouldered the heavy bundle with ease, set his bluecap on the back of his head and bade Arisa go with him. She had hermantle ready, but she could not resist casting delighted glances at herlate owner's face. Before going, she knelt down one moment by his side, and inclined her face to his, with a very loving gaze. Lower and lowershe bent, as if she would give him a parting kiss, till Aristarchiuttered an exclamation. Then she laughed cruelly, and with the back ofher hand struck the lips that had so often touched her own. 

A few moments later Aristarchi had placed her in his boat, the heavybundle of spoils lay at her feet, and the craft shot swiftly from thedoor of the house of the Agnus Dei. For Michael Pandos, the mate, hadbeen waiting under the window, and a stroke of the oars brought him tothe steps. 

In the closed room where the friends were playing dice, there began tobe some astonishment at the time needed by Jacopo to replenish hispurse. When more than half an hour had passed one pair stopped playing, and then another, until they were all listening for some sound in thesilent house. The perfect stillness had something alarming in it, andnone of them fully trusted Contarini. 

"I think, " said Venier with all his habitual indolence, "that it is timeto ascertain the colour of the lady's hair. Can you break the lock?"

He spoke to Foscari, who nodded and went to the door with two or threeothers. In a few seconds it flew open before their combined attack, andthey almost lost their balance as they staggered out into the dark hall. The rest brought lights and they all began to go up the stairs together. The first to enter the room was Foscari. Venier, always indifferent, wasamong the last. 

Foscari started at the extraordinary sight of a man in magnificentclothes, lying on one shoulder, with his heels tied up to his hands andhis shorn head and face moving slowly from side to side in the brightlight of the wax candle that stood on the floor. The other men crowdedinto the room, but at first no one recognised the master of the house. Then all at once Foscari saw the rings on his fingers. 

"It is Contarini, " he cried, "and somebody has shaved his head!"

He burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, in which the othersjoined, till the house rang again, and the banished servants camerunning down to see what was the matter. 

Only Zuan Venier, a compassionate smile on his face, knelt besideContarini and carefully withdrew the iron gag from his mouth. 

At the same instant Aristarchi's hatchet chopped through the hawser bywhich his vessel was riding, and he took the helm himself to steer herout through the narrow channel before the wind. 

CHAPTER XXIII

When Pasquale had let Zorzi in, he crossed the canal again, moored theskiff with lock and chain, and came back by the wooden bridge. Zorziwent on through the corridor and came out into the moonlit garden. Itwas hard to believe that only forty-eight hours had passed since he hadleft it, but the freshly dug earth told him of Giovanni's search, aboutwhich Pasquale had told him, and there was the pleasant certainty thatthe master had come home and could probably protect him, even againstthe Ten. Besides this, he felt stronger and more able to move than sincehe had been injured, and he was sure that he could now walk with only astick to help him, though he was always to be lame. He had looked up atMarietta's window before leaving the boat, but it was dark, for Pasqualehad wished to be sure that no one should see Zorzi and it was long pastthe young girl's bedtime. 

Pasquale came back, and produced some more bread and cheese from hislodge, for both men were hungry. They sat down on the bench under theplane-tree and ate their meagre supper together in silence, for they hadtalked much during the long day. Then Pasquale bade Zorzi good night andwent away, and Zorzi went into the laboratory, where all was dark. Buthe knew every brick of the furnace and every stone of the pavement underhis feet, and in a few minutes he was fast asleep in his own bed, feeling as safe as if the Ten had never existed and as though theSignors of the Night were not searching every purlieu of Venice to takehim into custody. And early in the morning he got up, and Pasqualebrought him water as of old, and as his hose and doublet had sufferedconsiderably during his adventures, he put on the Sunday ones and cameout into the garden to breathe the morning air. Pasquale had nointention of going over to the house to announce Zorzi's return, for hewas firmly convinced that the most simple way of keeping a secret wasnot to tell it, and before long the master would probably come overhimself to ask for news. 

Beroviero brought Marietta with him, as he often did, and when they werewithin he naturally stopped to question Pasquale about his search, whileMarietta went on to the garden. The porter took a long time to shut thedoor, and instead of answering Beroviero, shook his ugly headdiscontentedly, and muttered imprecations on all makers of locks, latches, bolts, bars and other fastenings, living, dead and yet unborn. So it came to pass that Marietta came upon Zorzi suddenly and alone, when she least expected to meet him. 

He was standing by the well-remembered rose-bush, leaning on his stickwith one hand and lifting up a trailing branch with the other. But whenhe heard Marietta's step he let the branch drop again and stood waitingfor her with happy eyes. She uttered a little cry, that was almost offear, and stopped short in her walk, for in the first instant she couldhave believed that she saw a vision; then she ran forward withoutstretched hands, and fell into his arms as he dropped his stick tocatch her. As her head touched his shoulder, her heart stopped beatingfor a moment, she gasped a little, and seemed to choke, and then thetears of joy flowed from her eyes, her pulses stirred again, and all waswell. He felt a tremor in his hands and could not speak aloud, but as heheld her he bent down and whispered something in her ear; and she smiledthrough the shower of her happy tears, though he could not see it, forher face was hidden. 

Just then Beroviero entered from the corridor, followed by Pasquale, andthe two old men stood still together gazing at the young lovers. It wason that very spot that the master, when going upon his journey, had toldZorzi how he wished he were his son. But now he forgot that he had saidit, and the angry blood rushed to his forehead. 

"How dare you?" he cried, as he made a step to go on towards the pair. 

They heard his voice and separated hastily. Marietta's fresh cheekblushed like red roses, and she looked down, as shamefacedly as anycountry maid, but Zorzi turned white as he stooped to pick up his stick, then stood quite upright and met her father's eyes. 

"How dare you, I say?" repeated the old man fiercely. 

"I love her, sir, " Zorzi answered without fear for himself, but withmuch apprehension for Marietta. 

"And have you forgotten that I love him, father?" asked Marietta, looking up but still blushing. "You know, I told you all the truth, andyou were not angry then. At least, you were not so very angry, " sheadded, shyly correcting herself. 

"If she has told you, sir, " Zorzi began, "let me--"

"You can tell me nothing I do not know, " cried Beroviero, "and nothing Iwish to hear! Be off! Go to the laboratory and begin work. I will speakwith my daughter. "

Then Pasquale's voice was heard. 

"A furnace without a fire is like a ship without a wind, " he said. "Itmight as well be anything else. "

Beroviero looked towards the old porter indignantly, but Pasquale hadalready begun to move and was returning to his lodge, uttering strangeand unearthly sounds as he went, for he was so happy that he was reallytrying to hum a tune. The master turned to the lovers again. Zorzi hadwithdrawn a step or two, but showed no signs of going further. 

"If you are going to tell me that I must change my mind, " said Marietta, "and that it is a shame to love a penniless glass-blower--"

"Silence!" cried the old man, stroking his beard fiercely. "How can youpresume to guess what I may or may not say about your shameless conduct?Did I not see him kissing you?"

"I daresay, for he did, " answered Marietta, raising her eyebrows andlooking down in a resigned way. "And it is not the first time, either, "she added, shaking her head and almost laughing. 

"The insolence!" cried Beroviero. "The atrocious boldness!"

"Sir, " said Zorzi, coming nearer, "there is only one remedy for it. Giveme your daughter for my wife--"

"Upon my faith, this is too much! You know that Marietta is betrothed toMesser Jacopo Contarini--"

"I have told you that I will not marry him, " said Marietta quietly, "soit is just as if I had never been betrothed to him. "

"That is no reason for marrying Zorzi, " retorted Beroviero. "A prettymatch for you! Angelo Beroviero's daughter and a penniless foreigner whocannot even be allowed to work openly at his art!"

"If I go away, " Zorzi answered quietly, "I may soon be as rich as you, sir. "

At this unexpected statement Beroviero opened his eyes in realastonishment, while Zorzi continued. 

"You have your secrets, sir, and I have kept them safe for you. But Ihave one of my own which is as valuable as any of yours. Did you findsome pieces of my work in the annealing oven? I see that they are on thetable now. Did you notice that the glass is like yours, but finer andlighter?"

"Well, if it is, what then?" asked Beroviero. "It was an accident. Youmixed something with some of my glass--"

"No, " answered Zorzi, "it is altogether a composition of my own. I donot know how you mix your materials. How should I?"

"I believe you do, " said Beroviero. "I believe you have found it out insome way--"

Zorzi had produced a piece of folded paper from his doublet, and nowheld it up in his hand. 

"I am not bargaining with you, sir, for you are a man of honour. AngeloBeroviero will not rob me, after having been kind to me for so manyyears. This is my secret, which I discovered alone, with no one's help. The quantities are written out very exactly, and I am sure of them. Read what is written there. By an accident, I may have made somethinglike your glass, but I do not believe it. "

He held out the paper. Beroviero's manner changed. 

"You were always an honourable fellow, Zorzi. I thank you. "

He opened the paper and looked attentively at the contents. Marietta sawhis surprise and interest and took the opportunity of smiling at Zorzi. 

"It is altogether different from mine, " said Beroviero, looking up andhanding back the document. 

"Is there fortune in that, sir, or not?" asked Zorzi, confident of thereply. "But you know that there is, and that whenever I go, if I can geta furnace, I shall soon be a rich man by the glass alone, without evencounting on such skill as I have with my hands. "

"It is true, " answered the master, nodding his head thoughtfully. "Thereare many princes who would willingly give you the little you need inorder to make your fortune. "

"The little that Venice refuses me!" said Zorzi with some bitterness. "Am I presuming so much, then, when I ask you for your daughter's hand?Is it not in my power, or will it not be very soon, to go to some othercity, to Milan, or Florence--"

"No, no!" cried Beroviero. "You shall not take her away--"

He stopped short, realising that he had betrayed what had been in hismind, since he had seen the two standing there, clasped in one another'sarms, namely, that in spite of him, or with his blessing, his daughterwould before long be married to the man she loved. 

"Come, come!" he said testily. "This is sheer nonsense!"

He made a step forward as if to break off the situation by going away. 

"If you would rather that I should not leave you, sir, " said Zorzi, "Iwill stay here and make my glass in your furnace, and you shall sell itas if it were your own. "

"Yes, father, say yes!" cried Marietta, clasping her hands upon the oldman's shoulder. "You see how generous Zorzi is!"

"Generous!" Beroviero shook his head. "He is trying to bribe me, forthere is a fortune in his glass, as he says. He is offering me afortune, I tell you, to let him marry you!"

"The fortune which Messer Jacopo had made you promise to pay him forcondescending to be my husband!" retorted Marietta triumphantly. "Itseems to me that of the two, Zorzi is the better match!"

Beroviero stared at her a moment, bewildered. Then, in half-comicdespair he clapped both his hands upon his ears and shook himself gentlyfree from her. 

"Was there ever a woman yet who could not make black seem white?" hecried. "It is nonsense, I tell you! It is all arrant nonsense! You aredriving me out of my senses!"

And thereupon he went off down the garden path to the laboratory, apparently forgetting that his presence alone could prevent a repetitionof that very offence which had at first roused his anger. The doorclosed sharply after him, with energetic emphasis. 

At the same moment Marietta, who had been gazing into Zorzi's eyes, feltthat her own sparkled with amusement, and her father might almost haveheard her sweet low laugh through the open window at the other end ofthe garden. 

"That was well done, " she said. "Between us we have almost persuadedhim. "

Zorzi took her willing hand and drew her to him, and she was almost asnear to him as before, when she straightened herself with quick andelastic grace, and laughed again. 

"No, no!" she said. "If he were to look out and see us again, it wouldbe too ridiculous! Come and sit under the plane-tree in the old place. Do you remember how you stared at the trunk and would not answer me whenI tried to make you speak, ever so long ago? Do you know, it was becauseyou would not say--what I wanted you to say--that I let myself thinkthat I could marry Messer Jacopo. If you had only known what you weredoing!"

"If I had only known!" Zorzi echoed, as they reached the place andMarietta sat down. 

They were within sight of the window, but Beroviero did not heed them. He was seated in his own chair, in deep thought, his elbows resting onthe wooden arms, his fingers pressing his temples on each side, thinkingof his daughter, and perhaps not quite unaware that she was talking tothe only man he had ever really trusted. 

"I must tell you something, Zorzi, " she was saying, as she looked upinto the face she loved. "My father told me last night what he had doneyesterday. He saw Messer Zuan Venier--"

Zorzi showed his surprise. 

"Pasquale told my father that he had been here to see you. Very well, this Messer Zuan advised that if you could be found, you should bepersuaded to go before the tribunal of the Ten of your own free will, totell your story. And he promised to use all his influence and that ofall his friends in your favour. "

"They will not change the law for me, " Zorzi replied, in a hopelessway. 

"If they could hear you, they would make a special decree, " saidMarietta. "You could tell them your story, you could even show them someof the beautiful things you have made. They would understand that youare a great artist. After all, my father says that one of their mostespecial duties is to deal with everything that concerns Murano and theglass-works. Do you think that they will banish you, now that you have asecret of your own, and can injure us all by setting up a furnacesomewhere else? There is no sense in that! And if you go of your ownfree will, they will hear you kindly, I think. But if you stay here, they will find you in the end, and they will be very angry then, becauseyou will have been hiding from them. "

"You are wise, " Zorzi answered. "You are very wise. "

"No, I love you. "

She spoke softly and glanced at the open window, and then at his face. 

"Truly?"

He smiled happily as he whispered his question in one word, and he wasresting a hand on the trunk of the tree, just as he had been standing onthe day she remembered so well. 

"Ah, you know it now!" she answered, with bright and trusting eyes. 

"One may know a song well, and yet long to hear it again and again. "

"But one cannot be always singing it oneself, " she said. 

"I could never make it ring as sweetly as you, " Zorzi answered. 

"Try it! I am tired of hearing my voice--"

"But I am not! There is no voice like it in the world. I shall nevercare to hear another, as long as I live, nor any other song, nor anyother words. And when you are weary of saying them, I shall just saythem over in my heart, 'She loves me, she loves me, '--all day long. "

"Which is better, " Marietta asked, "to love, or to know that you areloved?"

"The two thoughts are like soul and body, " Zorzi answered. "You must notpart them. "

"I never have, since I have known the truth, and never shall again. "

Then they were silent for a while, but they hardly knew it, for theworld was full of the sweetest music they had ever heard, and theylistened together. 

"Zorzi!"

The master was at the window, calling him. He started a little as ifawaking and obeyed the summons as quickly as his lameness would allow. Marietta looked after him, watching his halting gait, and the littleeffort he made with his stick at each step. For some secret reason theinjury had made him more dear to her, and she liked to remember howbrave he had been. 

He found Beroviero busy with his papers, and the results of the year'sexperiments, and the old man at once spoke to him as if nothing unusualhad happened, telling him what to do from time to time, so that allmight be put in order against the time when the fires should be lightedagain in September. By and by two men came carrying a new earthen jarfor broken glass, and all fragments in which the box had lain wereshovelled into it, and the pieces of the old one were taken away. Thefurnace was not quite cool even yet, and the crucibles might remainwhere they were for a few days; but there was much to be done, and Zorziwas kept at work all the morning, while Marietta sat in the shade withher work, often looking towards the window and sometimes catching sightof Zorzi as he moved about within. 

Meanwhile the story of Contarini's mishap had spread in Venice likewildfire, and before noon there was hardly one of all his many relationsand friends who had not heard it. The tale ran through the town, told byhigh and low, by Jacopo's own trusted servant, and the old woman who hadwaited on Arisa, and it had reached the market-place at an early hour, so that the ballad-makers were busy with it. For many had known of theexistence of the beautiful Georgian slave and the subject was a good onefor a song--how she had caressed him to sleep and fostered his foolishsecurity while he loved her blindly, and how she and her mysteriouslover had bound him and shaved his head and face and made him alaughing-stock, so that he must hide himself from the world for months, and moreover how they had carried away by night all the precious giftshe had heaped upon the woman since he had bought her in theslave-market. 

Last of all, his father heard it when he came home about an hour beforenoon from the sitting of the Council of Ten, of which he was a memberfor that year. He found Zuan Venier waiting in the hall of his house, and the two remained closeted together for some time. For the young manhad promised Jacopo to tell old Contarini, though it was an ungratefulerrand, and one which, the latter might remember against him. But it wasa kind action, and Venier performed it as well as he could, telling thestory truthfully, but leaving out all such useless details as mightincrease the father's anger. 

At first indeed the old man brought his hand down heavily upon thetable, and swore that he would never see his son again, that he wouldpropose to the Ten to banish him from Venice, that he would disinherithim and let him starve as he deserved, and much more to the same effect. But Venier entreated him, for his own dignity's sake, to do none ofthese things, but to send Jacopo to his villa on the Brenta river, wherehe might devote himself in seclusion to growing his hair and beardagain; and Zuan represented that if he reappeared in Venice after manymonths, not very greatly changed, the adventure would be so farforgotten that his life among his friends would be at least bearable, inspite of the ridicule to which he would now and then be exposed for therest of his life, whenever any one chose out of spite to mentionbarbers, shears, razors, specifies for causing the hair to grow, orGeorgians, in his presence. Further, Venier ventured to suggest toContarini that he should at once break off the marriage arranged withBeroviero, rather than expose himself to the inevitable indignity ofletting the step be taken by the glass-maker, who, said Venier, would assoon think of giving his daughter to a Turk as to Jacopo, since thelatter's graceless doings had been suddenly held up to the light as thelaughing-stock of all Venice. 

In making this suggestion Venier had followed the suggestion of his owngood sense and good feeling, and Contarini not only accepted theproposal but was in the utmost haste to act upon it, fearing lest at anymoment a messenger might come over from Murano with the news thatBeroviero withdrew his consent to the marriage. Venier almost dictatedthe letter which Contarini wrote with a trembling hand, and he promisedto deliver it himself, and if necessary to act as ambassador. 

Beroviero had already called to Marietta that it was time to go home, though the mid-day bells had not yet rung out the hour, when Pasqualeappeared in the garden and announced that Venier was waiting in hisgondola and desired an immediate interview on a matter of importance. 

He would have come on Contarini's behalf, if for no other reason, but hehad spent much time that morning in laying Zorzi's case before hisfriends and all the members of the Grand Council who could have anyspecial influence with the Ten, or with the aged Doge, who, although inhis eightieth year, frequently assisted in person at their meetings, andwhose Counsellors were always present. He was now almost sure ofobtaining a favourable hearing for Zorzi, and wished to see Beroviero, for he was still in ignorance of Zorzi's return to the glass-houseduring the night. 

Marietta was told to go into the deserted building, containing the mainfurnaces, now extinguished, for it was not fitting that she should beseen by a patrician whom she did not know, sitting in the garden as ifshe were a mere serving-woman whose face needed no veil. She ran awaylaughing and hid herself in the passage where she had spent moments ofanguish on the night of Zorzi's arrest, and she waved a kiss to him, when her father was not watching. 

Zorzi waited at the door of the laboratory, while Beroviero waitedwithin, standing by the table to receive his honourable visitor. WhenZorzi saw Venier's expression of astonishment on seeing him, he smiledquietly, but offered no audible greeting, for he did not know what wasexpected of him. But Venier took his hand frankly and held it a moment. 

"I am glad to find you here, " he said, less indolently than he usuallyspoke. "I have good news for you, if you will take my advice. "

"The master has already told me what it is, " Zorzi answered. "I am readyto give myself up whenever you think best. I have not words to thankyou. "

"I do not like many words, " answered Venier. "But if there is anything Idislike more, it is thanks. I have some private business with MesserAngelo first. Afterwards we can all three talk together. "

CHAPTER XXIV

Zorzi sat on a low bench, blackened with age, against the whitewashedwall of a small and dimly lighted room, which was little more than acell, but was in reality the place where prisoners waited immediatelybefore being taken into the presence of the Ten. It was not far from thedreaded chamber in which the three Chiefs sometimes heard evidence givenunder torture, the door was closed and two guards paced the narrowcorridor outside with regular and heavy steps, to which Zorzi listenedwith a beating heart. He was not afraid, for he was not easilyfrightened, but he knew that his whole future life was in the balance, and he longed for the decisive moment to come. He had surrendered on theprevious day, and Beroviero had given a large bond for his appearance. 

There were witnesses of all that had happened. There was the lieutenantof the archers, with his six men, some of whom still showed traces oftheir misadventure. There was Giovanni, whom the Governor had forced toappear, much against his will, as the principal accuser by the letterwhich had led to Zorzi's arrest, and the letter itself was in the handsof the Council's secretary. But there was also Pasquale, who had seenZorzi go away quietly with the soldiers, and who could speak for hischaracter; and Angelo Beroviero was there to tell the truth as far as heknew it. 

But Zorzi was not to be confronted with any of these witnesses: neitherwith the soldiers who would tell the Council strange stories of devilswith blue noses and fiery tails, nor with Giovanni, whose letter calledhim a liar, a thief and an assassin, nor with Beroviero nor Pasquale. The Council never allowed the accused man and the witnesses for oragainst him to be before them at the same time, nor to hold anycommunication while the trial lasted. That was a rule of theirprocedure, but they were not by any means the mysterious body of malignmonsters which they have too often been represented to be, in an agewhen no criminal trials could take place without torture. 

Zorzi waited on his bench, listening to the tread of the guards. As manytrials occupied more than one day, his case would come up last of all, and the witnesses would all be examined before he himself was called tomake his defence. He was nervous and anxious. Even while he was sittingthere, Giovanni might be finding out some new accusation against him orthe officer of archers might be accusing him of witchcraft and of havinga compact with the devil himself. He was innocent, but he had broken thelaw, and no doubt many an innocent man had sat on that same bench beforehim, who had never again returned to his home. It was not strange thathis lips should be parched, and that his heart should be beating like afuller's hammer. 

At last the footsteps ceased, the key ground and creaked as it turned, and the door was opened. Two tall guards stood looking at him, and oneof them motioned to him to come. He could never afterwards remember theplace through which he was made to pass, for the blood was throbbing inhis temples so that he could hardly see. A door was opened and closedafter him, and he was suddenly standing alone in the presence of theTen, feeling that he could not find a word to say if he were called uponto speak. 

A kindly voice broke the silence that seemed to have lasted manyminutes. 

"Is this the person whom we are told is in league with Satan?"

It was the Doge himself who spoke, nodding his hoary head, as very oldmen do, and looking at Zorzi's face with gentle eyes, almost colourlessfrom extreme age. 

"This is the accused, your Highness, " replied the secretary from hisdesk, already holding in his hand Giovanni's letter. 

Zorzi saw that the Council of Ten was much more numerous than its nameimplied. The Councillors were between twenty and thirty, sitting in asemicircle, against a carved wooden wainscot, on each side of the agedDoge, Cristoforo Moro, who had yet one more year to live. There wereother persons present also, of whom one was the secretary, the restbeing apparently there to listen to the proceedings and to give advicewhen they were called upon to do so. 

In spite of the time of year, the Councillors were all splendidly robedin the red velvet mantles, edged with ermine, and the velvet caps whichmade up the state dress of all patricians alike, and the Doge wore hispeculiar cap and coronet of office. Zorzi had never seen such anassembly of imposing and venerable men, some with long grey beards, someclose shaven, all grave, all thoughtful, all watching him with quietlyscrutinising eyes. He stood leaning a little on his stick, and hebreathed more freely since the dreaded moment was come at last. 

Some one bade the secretary read the accusation, and Zorzi listened withwonder and disgust to Giovanni's long epistle, mentally noting thepoints which he might answer, and realising that if the law was to beinterpreted literally, he had undoubtedly rendered himself liable tosome penalty. 

"What have you to say?" inquired the secretary, looking up from thepaper with a pair of small and piercing grey eyes. "The Supreme Councilwill hear your defence. "

"I can tell the truth, " said Zorzi simply, and when he had spoken thewords he was surprised that his voice had not trembled. 

"That is all the Supreme Council wishes to hear, " answered thesecretary. "Speak on. "

"It is true that I am a Dalmatian, " Zorzi said, "and by the laws ofVenice, I should not have learned the art of glass-blowing. I came toMurano more than five years ago, being very poor, and Messer AngeloBeroviero took me in, and let me take care of his private furnace, atwhich he makes many experiments. In time, he trusted me, and when hewished something made, to try the nature of the glass, he let me makeit, but not to sell such things. At first they were badly made, but Iloved the art, and in short time I grew to be skilful at it. So Ilearnt. Sirs--I crave pardon, your Highness, and you lords of theSupreme Council, that is all I have to tell. I love the glass, and I canmake light things of it in good design, because I love it, as thepainter loves his colours and the sculptor his marble. Give me glass, and I will make coloured air of it, and gossamer and silk and lace. Itis all I know, it is my art, I live in it, I feel in it, I dream in it. To my thoughts, and eyes and hands, it is what the love of a fair womanis to the heart. While I can work and shape the things I see when Iclose my eyes, the sun does, not move, the day has no time, winter noclouds, and summer no heat. When I am hindered I am in exile and inprison, and alone. "

The Doge nodded his head in kindly approbation. 

"The young man is a true artist, " he said. 

"All this, " said one of the Chiefs of the Ten, "would be well if youwere a Venetian. But you are not, and the accusation says that you havesold your works to the injury of born Venetians. What have you to say?"

"Sometimes my master has given me money for a beaker, or a plate, or abottle, " answered Zorzi, in some trepidation, for this was the mainpoint. "But the things were then his own. How could that do harm to anyone, since no one can make what I can make, for the master's own use?And once, the other day, as the Signor Giovanni's letter says there, hepersuaded me to take his piece of gold for a beaker he saw in my hand, and I said that I would ask the master, when he came back, whether Imight keep the money or not; and besides, I left the piece of money onthe table in my master's laboratory, and the beaker in the annealingoven, when they came to arrest me. That is the only work for which Iever took money, except from the master himself. "

"Why did the Greek captain Aristarchi beat the Governor's men, and carryyou away?" asked another of the Chiefs. 

Zorzi was not surprised that the name of his rescuer should be known, for the Ten were believed to possess universal intelligence. 

"I do not know, " he answered quite simply. "He did not tell me, while hekept me with him. I had only seen him once before that night, on a daywhen he came to treat with the master for a cargo of glass which henever bought. I gave myself up to the archers, as I gave myself up toyour lordships, for I thought that I should have justice the sooner if Isought it instead of trying to escape from it. "

"Your Highness, " said one of the oldest Councillors, addressing theDoge, "is it not a pity that such a man as this, who is a good artistand who speaks the truth, should be driven out of Venice, by a law thatwas not meant to touch him? For indeed, the law exists and always will, but it is meant to hinder strangers from coming to Murano and learningthe art in order to take it away with them, and this we can prevent. Butwe surely desire to keep here all those who know how to practise it, forthe greater advantage of our commerce with other nations. "

"That is the intention of our laws, " assented the Doge. 

"Your Highness! My lords!" cried Zorzi, who had taken courage from whatthe Councillor had said, "if this law is not made for such as I am, Ientreat you to grant me your forgiveness if I have broken it, and makeit impossible for me to break it again. My lords, you have the power todo what I ask. I beseech you that I may be permitted to work at my artas if I were a Venetian, and even to keep fires in a small furnace of myown, as other workmen may when they have saved money, that I may labourto the honour of all glass-makers, and for the good reputation ofMurano. This is what I most humbly ask, imploring that it may be grantedto me, but always according to your good pleasure. "

When he had spoken thus, asking all that was left for him to desire andamazed at his own boldness, he was silent, and the Councillors began todiscuss the question among themselves. At a sign from the Chiefs the urninto which the votes were cast was brought and set before the Doge; forall was decided by ballot with coloured balls, and no man knew how hisneighbour voted. 

"Have you anything more to say?" asked the secretary, again speaking toZorzi. 

"I have said all, save to thank your Highness and your lordships withall my heart, " answered the Dalmatian. 

"Withdraw, and await the decision of the Supreme Council. "

Zorzi cast one more glance at the great half circle of venerable men, attheir velvet robes, at the carved wainscot, at the painted vault above, and after making a low obeisance he found his way to the door, outsidewhich the guards were waiting. They took him back to a cell like the onewhere he had already sat so long, but which was reached by anotherpassage, for everything in the palace was so disposed as to prevent thepossibility of one prisoner meeting another on his way to the tribunalor coming from it; and for this reason the Bridge of Sighs, which wasthen not yet built, was afterwards made to contain two separatepassages. 

It seemed a long time before the tread of guards ceased again and thedoor was opened, and Zorzi rose as quickly as he could when he saw thatit was the secretary of the Ten who entered, carrying in his hand adocument which had a seal attached to it. 

"Your prayer is granted, " said the man with the sharp grey eyes. "Bythis patent the Supreme Council permits you to set up a glass-maker'sfurnace of your own in Murano, and confers upon you all the privilegesof a born glass-blower, and promises you especial protection if any oneshall attempt to interfere with your rights. "

Zorzi took the precious parchment eagerly, and he felt the hot bloodrushing to his face as he tried to thank the secretary. But in a momentthe busy personage was gone, after speaking a word to the guards, andZorzi heard the rustling of his silk gown in the corridor. 

"You are free, sir, " said one of the guards very civilly, and holdingthe door open. 

Zorzi went out in a dream, finding his way he knew not how, as hereceived a word of direction here and there from soldiers who guardedthe staircases. When he was aware of outer things he was standing underthe portico that surrounds the courtyard of the ducal palace. The broadparchment was unrolled in his hands and his eyes were puzzling over theLatin words and the unfamiliar abbreviations; on one side of him stoodold Beroviero, reading over his shoulder with absorbed interest, and onthe other was Zuan Venier, glancing at the document with the carelesscertainty of one who knows what to expect. Two steps away Pasqualestood, in his best clothes and his clean shirt, for he had been one ofthe witnesses, and he was firmly planted on his bowed legs, his longarms hanging down by his sides; his little red eyes were fixed onZorzi's face, his ugly jaw was set like a mastiff's, and hisextraordinary face seemed cut in two by a monstrous smile of delight. 

"It seems to be in order, " said Venier, politely smothering with hisgloved hand the beginning of a yawn. 

"I owe it to you, I am sure, " answered Zorzi, turning grateful eyes tohim. 

"No, I assure you, " said the patrician. "But I daresay it has made usall change our opinion of the Ten, " he added with a smile. "Good-bye. Let me come and see you at work at your own furnace before long. I havealways wished to see glass blown. "

Without waiting for more, he walked quickly away, waving his hand afterhe had already turned. 

It was noon when Zorzi had folded his patent carefully and hidden it inhis bosom, and he and Beroviero and Pasquale went out of the busygateway under the outer portico. Beroviero led the way to the right, andthey passed Saint Mark's in the blazing sun, and the Patriarch's palace, and came to the shady landing, the very one at which the old man and hisdaughter had got out when they had come to the church to meet Contarini. The gondola was waiting there, and Beroviero pushed Zorzi gently beforehim. 

"You are still lame, " he said. "Get in first and sit down. "

But Zorzi drew back, for a woman's hand was suddenly thrust out of thelittle window of the 'felse, ' with a quick gesture. 

"There is a lady inside, " said Zorzi. 

"Marietta is in the gondola, " answered Beroviero with a smile. "Shewould not stay at home. But there is room for us all. Get in, my son. "

NOTE

The story of Zorzi Ballarin and Marietta Beroviero is not mere fiction, and is told in several ways. The most common account of thecircumstances assumes that Zorzi actually stole the secrets which AngeloBeroviero had received from Paolo Godi, and thereby forced Angelo togive him his daughter in marriage; but the learned Comm. C. A. Levi, director of the museum in Murano, where many works of Beroviero andBallarin are preserved, has established the latter's reputation forhonourable dealing with regard to the precious secrets, in a pamphletentitled "L'Arte del Vetro in Murano, " published in Venice, in 1895, towhich I beg to refer the curious reader. I have used a novelist'sprivilege in writing a story which does not pretend to be historical. Ihave taken eleven years from the date on which Giovanni Beroviero wrotehis letter to the Podestà of Murano, and the letter itself, thoughsimilar in spirit to the original, is differently worded and coverssomewhat different ground; I have also represented Zorzi as standingalone in his attempt to become an independent glass-blower, whereasComm. Levi has discovered that he had two companions, who wereDalmatians, like himself. There is no foundation in tradition for theexistence of Arisa the Georgian slave, but it is well known thatbeautiful Eastern slaves were bought and sold in Venice and in manyother parts of Italy even at a much later date.