Chapter 4 of Marietta, a maid of Venice, by Francis Marion Crawford. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 4. Marietta awoke before sunrise with a smile on her lips, and as she opened her eyes the world seemed suddenly gladder than ever before, and her heart beat in time with it. She threw back the shutters wide to let in the June morning, as if it were a beautiful living thing, and it breathed upon her face and caressed her and took her in its spirit arms and filled her with itself. Not a sound broke the stillness as she looked out, and the glassy waters of the canal reflected delicate tints from the sky, palest green and faintest violet and amber, with all the loving changing colors of the dawn. By the footway a black barge was moored, piled high with round uncovered baskets of beads, white, blue, deep red, and black, waiting to be taken over to Venice where they would be threaded for the east, and the colors stood out in strong contrast with the gray stones, the faint reflections in the water, and the tender sky above. There were flowers on the windowsill, a young rose with opening buds growing in a red earthen jar, and a pot of lavender just bursting into flower with a sweet geranium beside it and some rosemary. Zorzi had planted them all for her, and her serving woman had helped her to fasten the pots in the window, because it would have been out of the question that any man except her father should enter her room, even when she was not there. But they were Zorzi's flowers, and she bent down and smelt their fragrance. On the table behind her a single rose hung over the edge of a tall glass with a slender stem, almost the counterpart of the one in which Cantorini had drunk her health at midnight. Her father had given it to her as it came from the annealing oven, still warm after long hours of cooling with many others like it. She loved it for its grace and lightness, and as for the rose it was the one she had made Zorzi give 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 of her parchment missile. It would keep some of its fangs sent, perhaps, and if anyone saw it no one would ever guess when it came. It meant a great thing to her, for it had told her Zorzi's secret, which he had kept so well. He should know her some day, but not yet, and her drooping lids could hide it if it ever came into her eyes. It was too soon to let him know that she loved him. That was one reason for hiding it, but she had another. If her father guessed that she loved the wife it would fare ill with him. She fancied she could see the old man's fiery brown eyes and hear his angry voice. Poor Zorzi would be driven from Moreno and Venice never to set foot again within the boundaries of the Republic, for Beroviara was a man of weight and influence of whom Venice was proud. Youth would be very sad if it counted time and labor as it is reckoned and valued by mature age. Some days Zorzi would be no longer a mere paid helper, calling himself a servant when his humor was bitter, tending a fire on his knees and grinding colored earths and salts in a mortar. He had the understanding of the glorious art and the true love of it with the magic touch. He would make a name for himself in spite of the harsh Venetian law, and someday his master would be proud to call him son. There would not be many months to wait. Months or years would matter since she loved him, and was at last quite sure that he loved her. Today that was enough. She would go over to the glass house and sit in the garden by the rows he had planted, and now and then she would go into the closed furnace room where he worked with her father, or Zorzi would come out for something. She should be near him. She should see his face and hear his quiet voice, and she would say to herself, He loves me. 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 that had hidden it from her so long. There would be glances when he thought she was not watching him. His color would come and go as yesterday, and he would do her some little service now and then, in which the sweet truth against his will should tell itself to her again and again. It would be a delicious and ever-remembered day, each minute a pearl, each hour a chaplet of jewels, from golden sunrise to golden sunset, all perfect through and through. There were so many little things she could watch in him, now that she knew the truth, things that had long meant nothing and would mean volumes today. She would watch him and then call him suddenly and see him 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 had remembered to forget Jacopo Contorini's name. And someday, but not for a long time yet, she would drop a rose again, and she would turn as he picked it up, but she would not make him give it back to her, and in that 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 be when he knew. Yesterday her father had talked again of her marriage. A whole month had passed since he had even alluded to it, but this time he had spoken of it as a certainty, and she had opened her eyes wide in surprise. She did not believe that it was to be. How could she marry a man she did not love? How could she love any man but Zorzi? They might show her twenty Venetian patricians that she might choose among them. Meanwhile, she would show her indifference. Nothing was easier than to put out an inscrutable 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 Contorini any more than any other man except the one she had chosen? She need only say that Contorini did not please her and her father would certainly not try to use force. There was therefore nothing to fear. And since her first surprise was over, she felt sure of appearing quite indifferent. She would put the thought out of her mind and begin the day with the perfect certainty that the marriage was altogether impossible. She looked out over her flowers. The door of the glass house was open now and the burly porter was sweeping. She could hear the cypress broom on the flagstones inside. And presently it appeared in sight while the porter was still invisible, and it whisked out a mixture of black dust and breadcrumbs and bits of green salad leaves. And the old man came out and swept everything across the footway into the canal. As he turned to go back, the workmen came trooping across the bridge to the furnaces. Pale men with intent faces, very different from ordinary working people. For each called himself an artist and was one, and each knew that so far as the law was concerned, the proudest noble in Venice could marry his daughter without the least derogation from patrician dignity. The workmen differed from her own father, not in station, but only in the degree of their prosperity. If Zorzi could ever have been one of them, the rest would have been simple enough. But he could not any more than a black man could turn white at will. There was no evasion of law by which a man not born of a nation could ever be a glass blower, or could ever acquire the privileges possessed from birth by one of those shabby pale young men who were crowding past the porter to go to their hard day's work. Yet Dexter says they were. There was not one that had his skill. There was not one that could compare with him as an artist, as a workman, as a man. No Indian caste, no ancient nobility, no mystic priesthood ever set up a barrier so impassable between itself and the outer world as that which defended the glass blowers of Murano for centuries against all who wished to be initiated. Even the boys who fed the fires all night were of the calling and by and by would become workmen and perhaps masters, legally almost the equals of the splendid nobles who sat in the Grand Council over there in Venice. Zorzi's very existence was an anomaly. He had no social right to be what he was. And he knew it when he called himself a servant for the cruel law would not allow him to be anything else so long as he helped Angelo Baroviero. Suddenly while Maria to watch the men, Zorzi was there among them coming out as they went in. He must have risen early, she thought, for she did not know that he had slept in the laboratory. He looked pale and thin as he flattened himself against the doorpost to let a workman pass 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's confidence. And somehow instead of pitying him, she was glad. It seemed natural that he should not be one of them, that he should pass them with quiet indifference and that they should feel for him the instinct of 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 be their teacher and their master. And the girl was proud of him. He treated them with more civility than they bestowed on him. But it was the courtesy of a superior who would not assert himself, who would scorn to 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 she could just see him between the flowers without being seen. He stood still, looking down at the canal to the last of the men had passed in. Then before he went on, he raised his eyes slowly to Marietta's window, not guessing that her own were answering him from behind the rosemary and the geranium. His pale face was very sad and thoughtful as he looked up. She had never seen him look so tired. The porter had shut the door, which he never allowed to remain open one moment longer than was absolutely necessary. And Zorzi stood quite alone on the footway. As he looked, his face softened and grew so tender that the girl who watched him unseen stretched out her arms towards him with unconscious yearning. And her heart beat very fast so that she felt the pulses in her throat almost choking her. Yet her face was pale and her soft lips were dry and cold. For it was not all happiness that she felt. There was a sweet mysterious pain with it, which was nowhere and yet all through her that was weakness and yet might turn to strength, a hunger of longing for something dear and unknown and divine without which all else was an empty shadow. Then her eyes opened to him, as he had never seen them, blue as the depth of sapphire and a dewy with love mists of youth's early spring. It was impossible that he should stand there just beyond the narrow water and not feel that she saw him and loved him and that her heart was crying out the true words he never hoped to hear. But he did not know. And all at once his eyes fell and she could almost see that he sighed as he turned wearily away and walked with bent head towards the wooden bridge. She would have given anything to look out and see him cross and come nearer, but she remembered that she was not yet dressed. And she blushed as she drew further back into the room, gathering the thin white linen up to her throat and frightened that the mirror thought that he should catch sight of her. She would not call her serving woman yet. She would be alone a little while longer. She threw back 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 through her window from the right. The day that was to be so sweet had begun most sweetly. She had seen him already far earlier than usual. She would see him many times before the little brown maid crossed the canal to bring her home in the evening. The thought put an end to her meditations and she was suddenly in haste to be dressed, to be out of the house, to be sitting in the little garden of the glass house where Zorzi must soon pass again. She called and clapped her hands and her serving woman entered from the outer room in which she slept. She brought a great painted earthenware dish on which fruit was arranged. Half of a small yellow melon fresh from the cool storeroom, a little heap of dark red cherries and a handful of ripe plums. There was white wheat and bread too and honey from Aquilia in a little glass jar and there was a goblet of cold water. The maid set the big dish on the table beside the glass that held Zorzi's rose and began to make ready her mistress's clothes. Marietta tasted the melon and it was cool and aromatic and she stood eating a slice of it just where she could look through the flowers on the window sill at the door of the glass house so that if Zorzi passed again she should see him. He did not come and she was a little disappointed but the melon was very good and afterwards she ate a few cherries and spread a spoonful of honey on a piece of bread and nibbled at it and she drank some of the water looking out of the window over the glass. Was it always so beautiful? She asked, speaking to herself in a sort of 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, of course it is fine. Did you expect the north wind today or rain from the southwest? Marietta laughed sweet and low. The little maid always amused her. There was something cheerful in the queer little scolding sentences spoken with the rising inflection on almost every word, musical and yet always seeming to protest gently against anything Marietta said. I know something much more beautiful than the weather, Nella added, seeing that she got no answer except a laugh. Do you wish to know what is more beautiful than a summer's day? Oh, I know the answer to that, cried Marietta. You used to catch me in 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, of course. I was always dreadfully disappointed when you gave me that answer for I expected something wonderful. Nella shook her head as she unfolded the fond linen things and uttered a sort of little clucking sound meant to show her disapproval of such childish jests. Tuttutt, we're grown up now. Are we children? No, we are a young lady, beautiful and serious.  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 today than I could give a dissertation on theology. Riddles are for rainy days in winter when we sit by the fire in the evening wishing it were morning again. I know the great riddle at last. I have found it out. It is the most beautiful thing in the world. Then it is true, observed Nella, looking at her with satisfaction. What, asked the young girl carelessly, that you're to be married? I hope so, answered Marietta, someday. But there is time yet, perhaps a very long time. As long as it will take to make a wedding gown embroidered with gold and pearls, not a day longer than that. Nella looked very wise and watched her mistress's face. What do you mean? The master has ordered just such a gown. That is what I mean. Do you think 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, my dear lady. You will take me with you to Venice. Then you think I am to marry someone from the city? What is his name? The master knows that is enough. But it must be the doge's son, or at least the son of the admiral of Venice. It will take two months to embroider the gown. That means that you are to be married in August, of course. Do you think so? Ask Marietta indifferently. I know it. And Nella gave a discontented little snort, for she did not like to have her conclusions questioned. Am I half-witted? Am I in my dotage? Am I in imbecile? The gown is ordered, and that is the truth. Do you think the master has ordered a wedding gown embroidered with gold and pearls for himself? Marietta tossed her hair back and shook it down her shoulders, laughing gaily at the idea. Ah, cried Nella indignantly. Now you're mocking me.  It is too bad. But you will be sorry that you laughed at me when I am not here to bring you melons and cherries and tell you the news in the morning. You will say poor Nella.  That is what you will say. I tell you that if your father orders a wedding gown, you are the only person in the house who can wear it, and he would not order it just 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 much reflection. And what he does is well done. He says my daughter is to be married. Therefore I will order a splendid dress for her. That is what he says and he orders it. That has an air of reason, said Marietta gravely. I did not mean to laugh at you. Oh, very well. If you thought your father unreasonable, what should I say? He does not say one thing and do another. Your father, and I will tell you something. They will make the gown even handsomer than he ordered it because he is very rich and he will grumble and scold, but in the end he will pay for the honor of the house. Then you will wear the gown and all Venice will see you in it on your wedding day. That will be a great thing for the Venetians. Observe the young girl trying not to smile. They will see that there are rich men in Murano too.  Are the Venetians so very vain? Well, was not my husband a Venetian, blessed so? It seems to me that I should know. Have I forgotten how he would fasten a cock's feather in his 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 his leg. Ah, he had handsome legs, my poor veto, and he never would use anything but pure beeswax to stiffen his moustaches. Nope, he never would use tallow. He was almost like a gentleman.  His dislike of tallow as a cosmetic seems to affect her particularly. That is why I say that it will be a lesson to the pride of those Venetians. To see your marriage, she resumed after drying her eyes with the back of her hand, and the people of Murano will be there and all the glassblowers in their guild since the master is the head of it. I suppose 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? Marietta said carelessly. Why should he? asked the serving woman with unusual bluntness. When I dare say the master will find something for him to do, he is clever enough at doing anything. Yes, he is clever, ascended the young girl. Why do you not like him? Give me some more water. You are always afraid I shall use too much. I have a conscience, grumbled Nella. The water is brought from afar. It is paid for. It costs money. We must not use too much of it. Every day the boats come with it and a row of earthen jars in the court is filled and your father pays. He always pays and pays and pays till I wonder where the money all comes from. They say he makes gold over there in the furnace. He makes glass answered Marietta, and if he orders gowns for me with pearls and gold, he will not grudge me a jug of water. Why do you dislike Zorzi? He is as proud as a marble lion and as obstinate as a lombardi mule, explained Nella with fine imagery. If that is not enough to make one dislike a young man, you shall tell me so. But one of those days he will fall. There is trouble for the proud. How does his great pride show itself, asked Marietta? I have not noticed it. That would indeed be the end of everything if he showed his pride to you. Nella was much displeased by the mere suggestion. But with us it is different. He never speaks to the other workmen. They never speak to him and quite right to since he holds his head so high and with no reason at all. But it will not last forever. I wonder what the master would think for instance if he knew that Zorzi takes the skiff in the evening and rose himself over to Venice all alone and comes back long after midnight and sleeps in the glass house across the way because he cannot get into the house. Zorzi, Zorzi, the master cannot move without Zorzi. And where is Zorzi at night? At home and in bed like a decent young man? No, Zorzi is away in Venice. Heaven knows where. Doing heaven knows what. Do you wonder that he's 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, spiteful gossip. But it hurt her. Are you sure that he goes to Venice alone at night? She asked after a little pause. Am I sure that I live, that I belong to you, that my name is Nella? Is not the boat moored under my window? Did I not hear the chain rattling softly last night? I got up and looked out and I saw Zorzi as I 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 to Venice. And it was at least an hour after the midnight bell when I heard the chain again. And I looked out and there he was. But he did not come into the house. And this morning I saw him coming out of the glasshouse just as the man went in. He was as pale as a boiled chicken. Marietta had seen him too, and the coincidence gave color to the rest of the woman's tale, as would have happened if the whole story had been an invention instead of being quite true. Nella was combing the girl's thick hair, an operation peculiarly conducive to a mage chattering, for she has the certainty that her mistress cannot get away and must therefore listen patiently. A shadow had fallen on the brightness of Marietta's morning. She was pale, or two, but she said nothing. Of course he was tired, continued Nella. Do you suppose he would come back with pink cheeks and bright eyes, like a baby from baptism after being out half the night? He is always pale, said Marietta. Because he goes to Venice every night retorted Nella viciously. That is the good reason. Oh, I'm 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 is not concerned anyone but himself. Oh, indeed, sneered Nella, then the honor of the house does not matter. It is no concern of ours. And your father need never know that his trusty servant, his clever assistant, his faithful confidant, who shares all his secrets, is a good for nothing fellow who spends his nights in gambling or drinking or perhaps in making love to some Venetian girl is honorable and well behaved as himself. Marietta had grown steadily more angry while Nella was talking. She had her 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 is not, it will be the worst 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 one holding the comb upraised, the other gathering a quantity of her mistress's hair.  Send me away. Faulted the woman and utter amazement. Send me away. She repeated, still quite dazed. But it is impossible. Her voice began to break as if someone was shaking her violently by the shoulders. Oh, no, no, you will not know. The sound grew more piercing as she went on and the words were soon lost as she broke into a violent fit of hysterical crying.  She had made a great effort to speak quietly and not to say more than she meant. And she had certainly not expected to produce such a tremendous commotion. Nella tore her hair, drew her nails down her cheeks, as if she would tear them with scratches rocked herself forwards and backwards and from side to side. The tears poured down her brown cheeks. She screamed and blubbered and whimpered in quick alternation and in a few moments tumbled into the corner of a big chair, a sobbing and convulsed little heap of womanhood. Marietta tried to quiet her and was so sorry for her that she could almost have cried too until she remembered the detestable things which Nella had said about Zorzi and which the woman's screams had driven out of her memory for an instant. Then she longed to beat her for saying them, and still Nella alternately moaned and howled and twisted herself in the corner of the big chair. Marietta wondered whether her servant were going mad and whether this might not be a judgment of heaven for telling such atrocious lies about poor Zorzi. In that case it was of course deserved thought she, watching Nella's contortions, but it was very sudden.  As she did so her skirt caught a comb that lay on the edge of the table and swept it off so that it fell upon the pavement with a dry wrap. Instantly Nella sat up straight and rubbed her eyes, looking about for the cause of the sound. When she saw the comb, the serving woman's instinct returned and with it heard normal conditions of mind.  Peace was restored, for she did not speak again as she helped her mistress to finish dressing.  It was soon finished, for the pleasure the young girl had taken in making much of the first details of the day that was to be so happy was all gone. She did not believe her woman, but there was a cloud over everything, and she was in haste to get an answer to the question which it would not be easy to ask. She must know if Zorzi had been to Venice during the night, for until she knew that all hope of peace was at an end. Nella had meant no harm, but she had played the fatal little part in which Destiny loves to go masking through life's endless play. Chapter 5 of Marietta, A Maid of Venice by Francis Marion Crawford. This Leeravax recording is in the public domain. Chapter 5. Zorzi had slept but little after he had at last lain down upon the long bench in the laboratory for the scene in which he had been the chief actor that night had made a profound impression on him. There are some men who would not make good soldiers, but who can face sudden and desperate danger with a calmness which few soldiers really possess and which is generally accompanied by some marked superiority of mind, but such exceptional natures feel the reaction that follows the perilous moment far more than the average fighting man. They are those who sometimes stem the rush of panic and turn back whole armies from ruin to victorious battle. They are those who spring forward from the crowd to save life when some terrible accident has happened as if they were risking nothing and who generally succeed in what they attempt. But they are not men who learn to fight every day as carelessly and naturally as they eat, drink or sleep. Their chance of action may come but once or twice in a lifetime, yet when it comes it finds them far more ready and cool than the average good soldier could ever be. Like strength in some men, their courage seems to depend on quality and very little on quantity, training or experience. Zorzi knew very well that although the young gentlemen who were playing at conspiracy in Jacobo's house did not constitute a serious danger to the Republic, they were fully aware of their own peril and would not have hesitated to take his life if it had not occurred to them that he might be useful. His intrepid manner had saved him, but now that the night was over he felt such awareness and lassitude as he had never known before. The adventure had its amusing side, of course. To Zorzi, who knew the people well, it was very laughable to think that a score of disillusioned young patricians should first fancy themselves able to raise a revolution against the most firmly established government in Europe and should then squander the privacy which they had bought at a frightful risk in mere gambling and dice playing. But there is nothing humorous about the oath he had taken. In the first place it had been sworn in solemn earnest and was therefore binding upon him. Secondly, if he broke it his life would not be worth a day's purchase. He was brave enough to have scorned the second consideration, but he was far too honorable to try and escape the first. He had made the promises to save his life it was true and under great pressure, but he would have despised himself as a coward if he had not meant to keep them. And he had solemnly bound himself to respect the betrothed brides of all the brethren of the company. Marietta was not betrothed to Jacopo Contarini yet, but there was no doubt that she would be before many days. To respect undoubtedly meant that he must not try to win her away from her affianced husband. If he had ever dreamt that in some fair, fantastically improbable future Marietta could be his wife, he had parted with the right to dream alike again. Therefore, when he had stood a while looking up at her window that morning, he sighed heavily and went away. He had never had any hope that she would love him much less that he could ever marry her, yet he felt he was parting with the only thing in life which he held higher than his art and that the parting was final.  He had never got up in the morning without looking forward to seeing her and hearing her voice before he should lie down again. A man more like others would have said to himself that no promise could bind him to anything more than the performance of an action or the abstention from one and that the right of dreaming was his own forever. But Zorzi judged differently. He had a sensitiveness that was rather manly than masculine. He had scruples of which he was not ashamed but which most men would laugh at. He had delicacies of conscience in his most private thoughts such as would have been more natural and a cloistered nun living in ignorance of the world than in a wave who had faced it at its worst and almost from childhood. Innocent as his dream had been he resolved to part with it and never to dream it again. He was glad that Marietta had taken back the rose he had picked up yesterday. If she had not he would have forced himself to throw it away and that would have hurt him. So he began his day in a melancholy mood as having buried out of sight forever something that was very dear to him. In time his love of his art would fill the place of the other love but on this first day he went about in silence with hungry eyes and tightened lips like a man who was starving and is too proud to ask a charity. He waited for Barrow Vieiro at the door of his house as he did every morning to attend him to the laboratory. The old man looked at him inquiringly and Zorzi bent his head a little to explain that he had done what had been required of him and he followed his master across the wooden bridge. When they were alone in the laboratory he told as much of his story as was necessary. He had found the Lord Jacopo Contarini at his house with a party of friends he said and he added at once that they were all men. Contarini had bidden him speak he had whispered his message so that only Contarini should hear it. After a time he had been allowed to come away. No Contarini had given no direct answer. He had sent no reply. He had only said allowed to his friends that the message he received was expected. That was all. The friends who were there Zorzi answered with perfect truth that he did not remember to have seen any of them before. Barrow Vieiro was silent for a while considering he would have thought it discourteous to leave his friends he said at last or to whisper an answer to a messenger in their presence he said that he had expected the message he will therefore come. To this Zorzi answered nothing for he was glad not to be questioned further about what had happened. Presently Barrow Vieiro settled to his work with his usual concentration. For many months he had been experimenting in the making of fine red glass of a certain tone a small fragment from one of his journeys. Hither too he had failed in every attempt. He had tried one mixture after another and had produced a score of different specimens but not one of them had that marvelous light in it like sunshine striking through bright blood which he was striving to obtain. It was nearly three weeks since his small furnace had been allowed to go out and by this time he alone knew what the glowing pots contained for he wrote down very carefully what he did and then characters which he believed no one could understand but himself. As usual every morning he proceeded to make trial of the materials fused in the night. The furnace though not large held three crucibles before each of which was the opening still called by the Italian name Boca through which the materials are put into the pots to melt into glass and by which the melted glass is taken out on the end of the blow 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 tall man. The working end was like a round oven with three glowing openings the straight part some 20 feet long contained the annealing oven through which the finished pieces were made to move slowly on iron liar pans during many hours till the glass had passed from extreme heat almost to the temperature of air. The most delicate vessels ever produced in Murano had all been made in single furnaces the materials being melted converted into glass and finally annealed by one fire. At least one old furnace is standing and still in use which has existed for centuries and those made nowadays are substantially like it in every important respect. Zorzi stood holding a long-handled copper ladle ready to take out a specimen of the glass containing the ingredients most lately added. A few steps from the furnace a thick and smooth plate of iron was placed on a heavy wooden table and upon this the liquid glass was to be poured out to cool. It must be time said Beroviaro unless the boys forgot to turn the sand glass at one of the watches the hour is all but run out and it must be the twelfth since I put in the materials. I turned it myself an hour after midnight said Zorzi and also the next time when it was dawn it runs three hours judging by the time of sunrise it is running right. Then make the trial Beroviaro stood opposite Zorzi his face pale with heat and excitement his fiery eyes reflecting the fierce light from the bokeh as he bent down to watch the copper ladle go in. Zorzi had wrapped a cloth around his right hand against the heat and he thrust the great spoon through the round orifice though it was the hundredth time of testing the old man watched his movements with intense interest quickly quickly he cried quite unconscious that he was speaking. There was no need of hurrying Zorzi in two steps he had reached the table and the white hot stuff spread out over the iron plate instantly turning to a greenish yellow then to a pale rose color then to a deep and glowing red as it felt the cool metal the two men stood watching it closely for it was thin and would soon cool Zorzi was too wise to say anything Bero Viaro's look of interest gradually turned into an expression of disappointment another failure he said with a resignation which no one would have expected in such a man his practiced eyes had guessed the exact hue of the glass while it still lay on the iron half cooled and far too hot to touch Zorzi took a short rod and pushed the round sheet till a part of it was over the edge of the table it is the best we have had yet he observed looking at it is it asked Bero Viaro with little interest and without giving the glass another glance it is not what I am trying to get it is the color of wine not of blood make something Zorzi while I write down the result of the experiment he took big pen and a sheet of rough paper on which he had already noted the proportions of the materials and he began to write sitting at the large table before the open window Zorzi took the long iron blow pipe cleaned it with a cloth and pushed the end through the orifice from which he had taken the specimen he drew it back with a little lump of melted glass sticking to it holding the blow pipe to his lips he blew a little and the lump swelled and he swung the pipe sharply in a circle so that the glass lengthened to the shape of a pair and he blew again and it grew and he blew again and it grew at the bokeh of the furnace he heated it for it was cooling quickly and he had his iron pun till ready as there was no one to help him and he easily performed the feat of taking a little hot glass on it from the pot and attaching it to the further end of the fast cooling pair if Bero Viaro had been watching him he would have been astonished at the skill with which the young man accomplished what it requires two persons to do but Zorzi had tricks of his own and the pun till supported itself on a board while he cracked the pair from the blow pipe with a wet iron as if a boy had held it in place for him and then heating and reheating the piece he fashioned it and cut it with tongs and shears rolling the pun till on the flat arms of his stool with his left hand and modeling the glass with his right till at last he let it cool to its natural color holding it straight downward and then swinging it slowly so that it should fan itself in the air it was a graceful calyx now of a deep wine red transparent as claret Zorzi turned to the window to show it to his master not for the sake of the workmanship but of the color the old man's head was bent over his writing Marietta was standing outside and her eyes meant to Zorzi's he did not blush as he had blushed yesterday when he looked up from the fire and saw her he merely inclined his head respectfully to acknowledge her presence and then he stood by the table waiting for the master to notice him and not bestowing another glance on the young girl Beroviaro turned to him at last he was so used to Marietta's presence that he paid no attention to her what is that thing he asked contentually a specimen of the glass we tried answered the young man I have blown it thin to show the color a man who can have such execrable taste as to make a drinking cup of colored glass does not deserve to know as much as you do but it is very pretty said Marietta through the window and vending for where she rested her white hands on the table among the little heaps of chemicals anneal it and give it to me she added keep such a thing in my house asked Beroviaro scornfully break up that rubbish he added roughly speaking to Zorzi without a word Zorzi smashed the calyx off the iron into an old earthen jar already half full of broken glass then he put the ponteel in its place and went to tend the fire Marietta left the window and entered the 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 suggested the girl leaning down and looking over his shoulder at the crab writing so that her cheek almost touched his is that why he wished to send me away Beroviaro turned in his chair raised his heavy brows and looked up into her face but said nothing Nella has just told me that you have ordered my wedding gown continued Marietta we're not alone said her father in a low voice Zorzi probably knows what is the gossip of the house and what I have been the last to hear answered the young girl besides you trust him with all your secrets yes I trust him ascented Beroviaro but these are private matters 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 humored in spite of what she said if I did that would not teach her things which I do not know myself is it true that you've ordered a gown to be embroidered with pearls you like pearls do you not asked Beroviaro 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 of annoyance by my faith one can keep nothing secret one cannot even give you a surprise Nella knows everything returned the girl sitting on the corner of the table and looking from her father to Zorzi that must be why you chose her for my serving girl when I was a little girl she knows all that happens in the house by day and night so that I sometimes think she never sleeps Zorzi looked furtively towards the table for he could not help hearing all that was said for instance continued Marietta watching him she knows that last night someone unlocked the chain that mors the skiff and rode away towards Venice to her surprise Zorzi showed no embarrassment he had made up the fire and now sat down at a little distance on one of the flat arms of the glass floor's working stool his face was pale and quiet and his eyes did not avoid hers if I caught anyone using my boat without my leave I would make him pay dear said Bero Vero but without anger as if you were stating a general truth whoever it was who took the boat brought it back an hour after midnight locked the padlock again and went away said Marietta tell Nella that I am much indebted to her her watchfulness she is as good as a house dog tell her to come and wake me if she sees anyone taking that boat again she says she knows who took it last night observed Marietta who was puzzled by the attitude of the two men she had now decided that it had not been Zorzi who had used the boat but on the other hand the story did not rouse her father's anger as she had expected did she tell you the man's name yes Zorzi Marietta laughed incredulously as she spoke and Zorzi smiled quietly Beroviara was silent for a moment and looked out of the window listen to me he said at last tell your graceless gossip of a serving woman that I will answer for Zorzi and that the next time she hears anyone taking the boat at night she better come and call me and open her eyes a little wider tell her also that I entertain proper persons to take care of my property without any help from her tell her further more that she talks too much you should not listen to a servant's miserable chatter I will tell her replied Marietta Meekley did you say that the gown was to be embroidered with pearls and silver father or with pearls and gold I believe I said gold answered the old man discontentedly and when will it be ready in about two months I dare say so you mean to marry me in two months concluded Marietta that is not a long time should you prefer two years inquired Beroviaro with increasing annoyance Marietta slipped from the table to her feet it depends on the bridegroom she answered perhaps I may prefer to wait 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 the garden when she was gone Beroviaro shut the window carefully and though the round bullseye pains let in the light plentifully they effectively prevented anyone from seeing into the room the door was already closed you should have been more careful he said to Zorzi in a tone of reproach you should not have let anyone see you when you took the boat if the woman spent half the night looking out of her window sir I do not understand how I could have taken the boat without being seen by her well well there is no harm done and you could not help it I dare say I have something else to say you saw the Lord Jacopo last night what do you think of him he is a fine looking young man should not any girl be glad to get such a handsome husband what do you think and his name to one of the best in the great council they say he has a few deaths but his father is very rich and has promised me that he will pay everything if only his son can be bratched to marry and lead a grave or life what do you think he is a very handsome young man said Zorzi loyally what should I think it is a most honorable marriage for your house I hear no great harm of Jacopo continued Beroviaro more familiarly his father is Marzer Lee we have spent much time in the preliminary arrangements and the old man is very grasping he would take all my fortune for the dowry if he could but he has to do with a glassblower Beroviaro smiled thoughtfully Zorzi was silent for he was suffering you may wonder why I sent that message last night began the master again since matters are already so far settled with Jacopo's father you would suppose that nothing more remained but to marry the couple in the presence of both families should you not I know little of such affairs sir answered Zorzi that would be the usual way continued Beroviaro but I will not marry Marietta against her will I have always told her so she shall see her future husband before she is betrothed and persuade herself with her own eyes that she is not being deceived into marrying a hunchback but supposing that after all the Lord Jacopo should not be to her taste suggested Zorzi would you break off the match? break off the match cried Beroviaro indignantly never not to her taste the handsomest man in Venice with a great name and a fortune to come it would not be my fault if the girl went mad and refused I would make her like him if she dared to hesitate a moment even against her will she has no will in the matter retorted Beroviaro angrily but you have always told her that you would not marry her against her will do not anger me Zorzi do not try your specious logic with me invent no absurd arguments man against her will indeed how should she know any will but mine in the matter I shall certainly not marry her against 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 for argument of course not any reasonable person would laugh at the idea that a girl in her senses should not be glad to marry Jacopo Kondorini especially after having seen him if she were not glad she would not be in her senses in other words she would not be sane and should be treated as a lunatic for her own good would you let a lunatic do as he liked if he tried to jump out of the window the mere thought is absurd quite said Zorzi sad as he was he could almost have laughed at the old man's inconsequence speeches I am glad that you so heartily agree with me answered Bero Vero in perfect sincerity I do not mean to say that I would ask your opinion about my daughter's marriage you would not expect that but I know that I can trust you for we have worked together a long time and I am used to 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's laying his hand gently on Zorzi's shoulders I know what that means in this world as soon as there was no question of opposing his despotic will his kindly nature asserted itself for he was a man subject to quick changes of humor but in reality affectionate I am going to trust you much more than hitherto he continued my sons are grown men independent of me but willing to get from me all they can if they were two artists if I could trust their taste they should have had my secrets long ago but they are mere moneymakers and it is better that they should enrich themselves with the tasteless rubbish they make in their furnaces then degrade our art by cheapening what should be rare and costly am I right indeed you are Zorzi now spoken a tone of real conviction if I thought you were really capable of making colored drinking cups like that abominable object you made this morning with the idea that they could ever be used you should not stay on Venetian soil a day resume the old man energetically you would be as bad as my sons are worse even they have enough sense to know that half the beauty of a cup when it is used lies in the color of the wine itself which must be seen through it but I forgive you because you are only anxious to blow the glass thin in order to show me the tint you know better that is why I mean to trust you in a very grave matter so as he bent his head respectfully but said nothing I'm obliged to make a journey before my daughter's marriage takes place continued Beroviaro I shall entrust to you the manuscript secrets I possess they are in a sealed package so that you cannot read them but they will be in your care if I leave them with anyone else my sons will try to get possession of them while I am away during my last journey I carried them with me but I am growing old life is uncertain especially when a man is traveling and I would rather leave the packet with you it will be safer it shall be altogether safe said Zorzi no one shall guess that I have it no one must know I would take you with me on this journey but I wish you to go on with the experiments I have been making we shall save time if you try some of the mixtures while I am away when it is too hot let the furnace go out but who will take charge of your daughter sir asks Zorzi you cannot leave her alone in the house my son Giovanni and his wife will live in my house while I am away I have thought of everything if you choose you may bring your belongings here and sleep and eat in the glasshouse I should prefer it so should I I do not want my sons to pry into what we are doing you can hide the packet here where they will not think of looking for it when you go out lock when you are in Giovanni will not come you will have the place to yourself and the boys who feed the fire at night will not disturb you of course my daughter will never come here while I am away you will be quite alone when do you go ask Zorzi on Monday morning on Sunday I shall take Marietta to St. Mark's when she has seen her husband to the patrol can take place at once Zorzi was silent for the glasshouse for two long months or not much less as officially separated from Marietta by the narrow canal as if an ocean were between them she would never cross over and spend an hour in the little garden then and she would be under the care of Giovanni Beroviaro who hated him as he well knew end of chapter five this recording by Michelle Fry Baton Rouge Louisiana Chapter 6 of Marietta a maid of Venice by Francis Marion Crawford this LibriVox recording is in the public domain Chapter 6 Aristarchie rose early though it had been broad dawn when he had entered his home he lived not far from the house of Anous Day on the opposite side of the same canal but beyond the baker's bridge his house was small and unpretentious a little wooden building in two stories with a small door opening to the water and another at the back giving access to a patch of dilapidated and overgrown garden whence a second door opened upon a dismal and unsavory alley one faithful man who had followed him through many adventures rendered him such services as he needed 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 the spy or to ask inopportun questions the greek put on the rich dress of a merchant captain of his own people the black coat thickly embroidered with gold the britches of dark blue cloth the almost transparent linen shirt open at the throat a large blue cap of silk and the cloth was set far back on his head showing all the bony forehead and his cold black beard and shaggy hair had been combed as smooth as their shaggy nature would allow he wore a magnificent lily two hands wide in which were stuck three knives of formidable length in breath in finally chased silver sheaths his muscular legs were encased in leather and gaiters ornamented with gold and silver and on his feet he wore broad turned up slippers from Constantinople the dress was much the same as that which the turks had found there a few years earlier and which they soon amalgamated with their own it set off the captain's vast breath of shoulder and massive limbs and as he stepped into his hired boat the idlers at the water stairs gazed upon him with an admiration of which he was well aware for besides being very splendidly dressed he looked as if he could have swept them all into the canal with a turn of his hand without saying whether he was bound he directed the orism through the narrow channels until he reached the shallow lagoon the boat men asked whether he should go to Marano answered the greek and keep over by st. michael's for the tide is low the boatman had already understood that his passenger new venice almost as well as he the boat shot forward at a good rate under the bending ore and in 20 minutes our starchy was at the entrance to the canal of San Piero and within sight of Bero Viaro's house easy there said the greek holding up his hand do you know Marano well my man as well as venice sir whose house is that which has the upper story built on columns over the footway it belongs to mister angelo Bero Viaro his glass house takes up all the left side of the canal as far as the bridge and beyond the bridge I can see two new houses on the same side whose are they they belong to the two sons of mister angelo Bero Viaro who have furnaces of their own all the way to the corner of the grand canal is there a grand canal and Marano asked are a starchy they call it so answered the boatman with some contempt but the Bero Viaro have several houses on it too hmm seems to me that Bero Viaro owns most of Marano observed the greek he must be very rich he is by far the richest but there is Alvis Trevisan a rich man too and there are two or three others the glassworks are there is amongst them I have business with mister Angelo said are a starchy but if he is such a great man he will hardly be in the glasshouse I will ask answered the boatman in a few minutes he made his boat fast to the steps before the glasshouse went to shore and knocked at the door our starchy leaned back in his seat chewing pistachio nuts which he carried in an embroidered leathered bag at his belt his right hand played mechanically with the short string of thick amber beads which he used for counting the June sun blaze down upon his swarthy face at the grating beside the door the porter's head appeared partially visible behind the bars is mister Angelo Berriviara within inquired the boatman civilly what is your business asked the border in a tone of surly contempt instead of answering the question there is a rich foreign gentlemen 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 a rich tell him to wait then and the surly head disappeared the boatman supposed that the man was gone to speak with his master and waited patiently by the door our starchy chewed his pistachio nut till there was nothing left at which time he reached the end of his patience he argued that it was a good sign if angel O'Bear of Yaro kept rich strangers waiting at his gate for it showed that he had no need of their custom on the other hand the greeks dignity was offended now that he had been made to wait so long for he was hasty by nature once in a fit of irritation with a candidate who stammered out of sheer fright the captain had ordered him to be hanged having finished his nut he stood up in the boat and stepped not again he said to the boatman who obeyed there was no answer this time I can hear the fellow inside said the boatman the grading was too high for a man to look through it from outside Aristarchy laid his naughty hands on the stone sill and pulled himself up till his face was against the grating he now looked in and saw the porter sitting in his chair have you taken my message to your master inquired the Greek the porter looked up and surprised which increased when he caught sight of the ferocious space of the speaker but he was not to be intimidated so easily Messer Angelo is not to be disturbed at his studies he said if you wait till noon perhaps he will come out to go to dinner perhaps repeated Aristarchy still hanging by his hands do you think 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 had nothing to lose calling himself up a little higher till his mouth was close to the grating he hailed the house as he would have hailed a ship at sea in a voice of thunder ahoy there is anyone within ahoy ahoy this was more than the porter's equanimity could bear he looked about for a weapon with which to attack on him a torrent of abuse in the meantime son of dogs and mules he cried in a rising growl I'll be follow the fell souls of thy dead and of their dead before them ahoy oh ahoy bellowed the Greek who now thoroughly enjoyed the situation the boatman anxious for a drink money and convinced that his huge employer would get the better of the porter had obligingly gone down upon his hands and knees thrusting his broad back so that Aristotle she stood upon him and was now prepared to prolong the interview without any further effort his terrific shouts rang through the corridor to the garden the first person to enter the little lodge was Marietta herself and the Greek broke off short in the middle of another tremendous yell as soon as he saw her she turned her face up to him quite fearlessly and was very much inclined to laugh when she saw the sudden change he said with great politeness I beg you to forgive my manner of announcing myself if your porter were more obliging I should have been admitted in the ordinary way What is this atrocious disturbance asked Zorzi entering before Marietta could answer pray leave the fellow to me he added speaking to Marietta who cast one more glance at Aristotle and went out Sir said the captain Blanley I admit that my behavior may give you some I trust that my apology will make you consider me a gentlemen like yourself your porter all together refused to take a message to mess sir Angelo Bero Vieiro may I ask whether you are his son sir No, sir you say that you wish to speak with the master I can take a message to him but I am not sure that he will see anyone today Aristarchi imagined that Bero Vieiro made himself inaccessible in order to increase the general idea of his wealth and importance he resolved to convey a strong impression of his own standing I am the chief partner in a great house of Greek merchants settled in Palermo he said my name is Cheryl I'm both Aristarchi and I desire the honor of speaking with me sir Angelo about the purchase of several cargoes of glass for the king of Sicily I will deliver your message sir said Zorzi pray wait a minute I will open the door Aristarchi's big head disappeared at last yes growl the porter to Zorzi open the door yourself and take the blame the man has the face of a Turkish pirate and his voice is like the bellowing of several bulls Zorzi unbarred the door which opened inward and Aristarchi turned a little sideways in order to enter for his shoulders would have touched the two door posts the slight and gracefully built Dalmatian looked at him with some curiosity standing aside to let him pass barring the door again Aristarchi though not much taller than himself was the biggest man he had ever seen he thanks Zorzi who pushed forward the porter's only chair for him to sit on while he waited I will bring you an immediate answer said Zorzi and disappeared down the corridor Aristarchi sat down crossed one leg over the other and took a pistachio nut from his pouch Master Porter he began in a friendly tone can you tell me who that beautiful lady is who came here a moment ago there's no reason why I should snarl the Porter beginning to strip the outer leaves from a large onion which he pulled from a string of them hanging by the wall Aristarchi said nothing for a few moments but watched the man with an air of interest were you ever a pirate he inquired presently no I never served in your crew the Porter was not often not a loss for a surly answer the Greek laughed in genuine amusement I like your company my friend he said I should like to spend the day here as the devil said to St. Anthony concluded the Porter Aristarchi left again it was long since he had enjoyed such amusing conversation and there was a certain novelty and not being feared he repeated his first question however remembering that he had not come in search of diversion but to gather information he asked she is Mr. Angelo's daughter is she not a man who asks a question when he knows the answer is either a fool or a nave choose as you please thanks friend answered Aristarchi still grinning and showing his jagged teeth I leave the first choice to you whichever you take I will take the other for if you call me and they I shall call you a fool but if you think me a fool I am quite satisfied that you should be the world of vaguely feeling that the Greek had the better of him at that moment Zorzi returned and his coming put an end to the exchange 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 went down the dark corridor muttering unholy things about the visitor who had disturbed him and bestowing a few curses on Zorzi then he went back to peeling his onions as Aristarchi went through the garden he saw Marietta sitting under the plane tree making a little net of colored beads her face was turned from him and bent down but when he had passed she glanced furtively after him wondering at his size but her eyes followed Zorzi till the two reached the door and went in a moment later Zorzi came out again leaving his master in the Greek together Marietta looked down at once lest her eyes should betray her gladness for she knew that Zorzi would not go back and could not leave the glass house so that sight should necessarily be alone with him while the interview in the laboratory lasted he came a little way down the path then stopped took a short knife from his wallet and began to trim away a few withered sprigs from a rose 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 with half closed eyes he slipped the knife back into his pouch and walked quickly to her side she looked down again threading the colored beads that half filled a small basket in her lap may I ask you a question her voice had a little persuasive hesitation in it as if she wished him to understand that the answer would be a favor of which she was anything but certain anything you will said Zorzi provided I do not ask about my father's secret a little laughter trembled in the words you were so severe yesterday you know I'm almost 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 last night yes Marietta's hand moved with the needle among the beads but she did not thread one Della had been right after all why did you go Zorzi the question came in a lower tone that was full of regret the master sent me answered Zorzi looking down at her hair and wishing that he could see her face his wish was almost instantly fulfilled after the slightest pause she looked up at him with a lovely smile yet when he saw that rare look in her face his heart sank suddenly instead of swelling and standing still with happiness and when she saw how sad he was she was grave with 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 much of love's sign language yet and did not understand what is it she asked almost tinderly he turned his eyes from her and rested one hand against the trunk of the plane 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 help you oh no no no he cried with an accent of real pain you could not help 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 workman are jealous of you because you are always with my father my brothers do not like you for the same reason and they think that you will get my father's secret from him some day and out do them all no you have not many friends I have none but you and the master the men would kill me if they dared Marietta started a little remembering how the workman had looked at him in the morning when he came out you need not be afraid he added seeing her movement they will not touch 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 melancholy nature I'm 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 not help you at all could I that morning it had seemed an easy thing to wait even two years before giving him a sign before dropping in his path the rose which she would not ask of him again the minutes seemed years now for she knew well enough what his trouble was he loved her and he thought it infinitely impossible in his modesty that she should ever stoop to him after she had spoken she looked at him with half-closed eyes for a while but he stared stonely at the trunk of the tree beside his hand gradually as she gazed her lives opened wider and the morning sunlight sparked in the deep blue and her fresh lips parted before she was aware of it he was looking at her with a strange expression then she faintly blushed and looked down at her beads once more she felt as if she had told him that she loved him but he had not understood he had only seen the transfiguration of her 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 was more than a sigh and less than a groan there are remedies for almost every kind of pain said Marrietta wisely as she threaded several beads give me one for mine he cried almost bitterly bid that which is to cease from being and that to be which is not earthly possible turn the world back and undo truth and make it all a dream then I shall find the remedy and forget that it was needed there are magicians who pretend to do such things she answered softly I would there were he sighed but those who come to them for help tell all else the magician has no power would you call a physician if you were ill and tell him that the 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 came with 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 for you unless he knows what miracles you ask how can your best friend help you if if she does not know what help you need still he was silent leaning against the tree with bent head the pain was growing worse and harder to bear she spoke so softly and kindly that it would have been easy to tell her the truth he thought for though she could never love him she would understand and would forgive him 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 he will help me why not now the little question might have been ruinous to all his resolution if Zorzi had not been almost like a child in his simplicity or like a saint in his determination to be loyal for he thought it loyalty to be silent not only for the sake of the promise he had given in return for his life but in respect of his master also who put such great trust in him pray do not press me with the question he said you tempt me very much and I do not wish to speak of what I feel be my friend in real truth if you can and do not ask me to say what I shall ever after wish unsaid that will be the best friendship Marietta looked across the garden thoughtfully and suddenly a chilling doubt 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 she believed she had said all that a maiden could to show him that she would listen willingly she had said too much and she felt ashamed and hurt almost resentful he was not a boy if he loved her he could find words to tell her so and should have found them for she had helped him to her at most suddenly she almost hated him for what his silence made her feel and she told herself that she was glad he had not dared to speak 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 away and leave her to herself not that she should shed a single tear she was far too angry for that but his presence so near her reminded her of what she had done he must have seen all through their talk that she 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 to hate him for it and she would with all her heart her thoughts came together in a tumult of disgust and resentment if Zorzi did not go away presently she would go away herself she was almost resolved to get up and leave the garden when the door opened Zorzi it was Beroviaro's voice Arostarci already stood in the doorway taking leave of Beroviaro with many oily protestations of satisfaction in having made his acquaintance Zorzi went forward to accompany the Greek to the door I shall never forget that I have had the honor of being received by the great artist himself said Arostarci who held his big cap in his hand and was bowing low on the threshold the pleasure has been all on my side returned Beroviaro courteously on the contrary quite on the contrary protested his guest backing away and then turning to go Zorzi walked beside him on his left as they reached the entrance to the corridor Arostarci turned once more and made an elaborate bow sweeping the ground with his cap for Beroviaro had remained at the door till he should be out of sight he bent his head making a gracious gesture with his hand and went in as the Greek disappeared Zorzi followed the letter showing him out Marietta saw the door close after her father and she knew that Zorzi must come back through the garden in a few moments she bent her head over her beads as she heard his step and pretended not to see him when he came near her he stood still a moment but she would not look up and between annoyance and disappointment and confusion she felt that she was blushing which she would not have had Zorzi see for anything she wondered 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 the blush faded away no she answered coldly enough I'm not angry I'm only sorry but I am glad I would not answer your question return Zorzi I doubt whether you had any answer to give retorted Marietta with a touch of scorn Zorzi's brows contracted sharply and he made a movement to go on so her proffered friendship was worth no more than that he thought she was angry and scornful because her curiosity was disappointed she could not have guessed his secret he was sure though that might account for her temper 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 a woman's logic he thought quite regardless of the defect in his own it was just like a woman he sincerely wish that he might tell her so in the presence of Marietta the man who had confronted sudden death less than 24 hours ago with a coolness that had seemed imposing to other men was little better than a girl himself he turned to go on without saying more but she stopped him I'm sorry that you do not care for my friendship she said in a hurt tone she could not have said anything which he would have found it harder 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 me think it she tried to laugh scornfully but there was a quaver in her voice which she herself had not expected and was very far from understanding why should she suddenly feel that she was going to cry it had seemed so ridiculous in pornella that morning yet there was the most unmistakable something in her throat which frightened her it would be dreadful if she should burst into tears over her beads before Zorzi's eyes she tried to gulp the something down and suddenly as she bent over the basket she saw the beautiful hateful drops falling fast upon the little dry glass things and even then in her shame at being seen she wondered why the beads looked bigger through the glistening tears she remembered afterwards how they looked so she must have noticed them at the time Zorzi knew too little of women to have any idea of what he ought to do under the circumstances he did not know whether to turn his back or to go away so he stood still and looked at her which was the very worst thing he could have done were still he tried to reason with her I assure you that you are mistaken he said in a soothing voice I wish for your friendship with all my heart only when you ask me I'll go away for heaven's sake go away cried Marietta almost choking and turning her face quite away so that he could only see the back of her head at the same time she tapped the ground impatiently with her foot and to make matters worse the little basket of beads began to slip off her knees at the same moment she caught had it desperately trying not to look round and half blinded by her tears but she missed it and but for Zorzi it would have fallen he put it into her hands very gently but she 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 sincerely wishing that some wise familiar spirit would whisper the explanation in his ear since he could not possibly consult any living person she heard him go and she listened for the shutting of the laboratory door then she knew that she was quite alone in the garden and she let the tears flow as they would bending her head till it touched the trunk of 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 should please the master to give him other orders old Beroviara was sitting in the big chair in which he sometimes rested himself his elbow on one of its 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 Beroviara said nothing the young man selected his pieces of beech wood laying them ready before the little opening just above the floor it is very strange said Beroviara at last he seems to be a rich merchant now but I am almost quite sure that I saw him in Naples did you know him there sir asked Zorzi no answered the master thoughtfully I saw him in a cart with his hands tied behind him on his way to be hanged he looks as if one hanging would not be enough for him observed Zorzi Beroviara was silent for a moment then he laughed and he laughed very rarely yes he said it is not a face one could forget easily he added then he rose and went back to his table end of chapter six chapter seven of Marietta a maid of Venice by Francis Marion Crawford the Sleeber Vox Recording is in the public domain Chapter seven the sun was high over Venice gleaming on the blue lagoons that lightly rippled under a southerly breeze filling the vast square of Saint Marks with blinding light casting deep shadows behind the church and in the narrow alleys and canals to northward about the Meriturea the morning Hayes had long since blown away and the outlines of the old church and of the buildings on the Guideca and on the low lying Lido were hard and clear against the cloudless sky mere designs cut out in rich colors as if with a sharp knife and reared up against a background of violent light in Venice only the melancholy drenching rain of a winter's day brings rest to the eye when water meets water and sky is washed into sea and the city lies soaking and dripping between the wind's shifts to the northeast out breaks the sun again and all Venice is instantly in a glare of light and color and startling distinctness like the sails and rigging of a ship at sea on a clear day it was Sunday morning and high mass was over in St. Mark's the crowd had streamed out of the central door spreading like a bright fan over the square the men in gay costumes red, green, blue, yellow, purple, brown, and white their legs party-colored in halves and quarters so that when looking at a group it was mere guesswork to match the pair that belongs to one man women in dresses of one tone mostly rich and dark and often heavily embroidered for no sumptuary laws could effectually limit outward display and the insolent vanity of an age still almost medieval made it natural that the rich should attire themselves as richly as they could and that the poor should be despised for wearing poor clothes. Angelo Berviero had a true Venetian's taste for splendor but he was also deeply imbued with the Venetian love of secrecy in all matters that concerned his private life when he bade Marietta accompany him to Venice on that Sunday morning he was equally anxious that she should be as finally dressed as was becoming for the that Jacopo Contarini would be standing beside the second column on the left watching her with a lazily critical eyes she was merely told that she and her father were to dine in the house of a certain Messer Luigi Foscorini procurator of saint Mark who was an old and valued friend though a near connection of Alveys Shibazan a rival glass maker of Marano Bero Vero's house might be suitably prepared for the solemn family meeting which was to take place late in the afternoon and at which her betrothal was to be announced but of which Marietta knew nothing her father counted upon surprising her and perhaps dazzling her so as to avoid all discussion and all possibility of resistance on her part she should see Contarini she should be told before her assembled family that she was solemnly bound to marry him in two months time Bero Vero never expected opposition in anything he wished to do but he had always heard that young girls could find a thousand reasons for not marrying the man their parents chose for them and he believed that he could make all argument and hesitation impossible Marietta doubtless expected to have a week in which to make up her mind for hours and even that was too much thought Bero Vero he would have preferred to march her to the alter without any preliminaries and marry her to Contarini without giving her a chance of seeing him before the ceremony after all that was the custom of the day the fortunes of love were in his favor for Marietta had spent three miserably unhappy days and nights since she last talked with her first carefully never coming 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 with her father when she entered the big room he made a solemn bow and occupied himself in the farthest corner so long as she remained there is a stage in which even the truest and purest she should be seen crying Marietta had bidden him go away in the folly of his 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 selfishness his pain helped him to do what he believed to be his duty and Marietta forgot that he had picked up the rose of love she forgot how tenderly and softly he had answered her in the garden she only remember that she had done her utmost and too much to make him tell her that he loved her and in vain she could not forgive him that for even after three days her cheeks burned fiercely whenever she thought of it after that it mattered nothing what became of her whether she loved her that would be the best of all in this mood Marietta entered the gondola and seated herself by her father on Sunday morning she wore an embroidered gown of olive green a little open at her dazzling throat and a silk mantel of a darker tone hung from her shoulders to protect her from the sun rather than from the air her russet hair was plaited in a thick flat braid and brought round her head like a broad coronet and a point lace veil pinned upon it with stout gold pins hung down behind and was brought forward carelessly upon one shoulder beside her Angelo Beroviaro was splendid in dark red cloth and purple silk he was proud of his daughter who was betrothed to the air of a great Venetian house he was proud of his own achievements of his wealth of the richly furnished gondola of his two big young oresmen in quartered blue hoes and snowy shirts and of his liveried men in blue and the gold who sat outside the low fels on a little stool staff in hand ready to attend upon his master and young mistress whenever they should please to go on foot Marietta had got into the gondola without so much as glancing across the canal to see whether Zorzi were standing there to see them push off as he often did when she and her father there 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 even to look for him but when the gondola was out of sight of the house she wished she knew whether he had looked out or not her father had told her they were going to dine with the procurator Foscorini and his wife the pair had one daughter of Marietta's age and she was a cripple from birth she was a relief to get away from Norano even for half a day the visit explained well enough why her father had desired her to put on her best gown and most valuable lace she really had not the slightest idea that anything more important was on foot Beroviaro looked at her in silence as they sped along with the gently rocking motion of the gondola which is not exactly like any other movement in the world he had already felt but the extraordinary whiteness of her skin made her pallor becoming to her and it was set off by the color of her hair as ivory by rough gold he wondered whether she had guessed whether he was taking her it is a long time since we were in St. Mark's together he said at last it must be more than a year answered Marietta we pass it often but we hardly ever go in Beroviaro speaking as indifferently as he could when we left home it lacked an hour and a half of noon by the dial 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 high mass would be over and that the church would be quiet and cool it was not at that time the cathedral ended at the low steps of the Rio del Palazzo and the servant held out his bent elbow for Marietta to steady herself though he knew that she would not touch it but she was light and sure footed as a fawn but Beroviaro leaned heavily on his man's arm they came around the patriarch's palace into the open square whence the crowd had nearly all disappeared dispersing in different directions a tall man in a purple silk mantle going in alone it was congerini and Beroviaro drew a little sigh of relief the intended bridegroom was punctual but Beroviaro thought that he might have shown such anxiety to see his bride as should have brought him to the door a few minutes before the time Marietta had drawn her veil across her face leaving only her eyes uncovered according to custom remained it will be cool in the church answered her father throw your veil back my dear there is no one to see you there is the son she said for she had been taught that one of a Venetian lady's chief beauties is her complexion well well there will be no son in the church and the old man hurried her in without bestowing a glance upon the bronze horses over the door to admire which he generally stopped the great church and the servant went before them dipped his fingers in the basin and offered them holy water they crossed themselves and Marietta bent one knee looking towards the high altar a score of people were scattered about kneeling and standing in the nave Contarini was leaning against the second pillar on the left and had been watching the door when Marietta and her father entered Baroviero saw him at once but led his head in the nave knelt down beside her a moment at the screen then crossed and came down the 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 seemed necessary to him in order that Marietta should receive a very strong and sudden impression which should leave no doubt in her mind Contarini himself and when the two came upon him he was drawn up to his full height one gloved hand holding his cap and resting on his hip the other gloveless and white as a woman's was twisting his silky moustache Baroviero had maneuvered so cleverly that Marietta almost jostled the young patrician as she turned the pillar Contarini drew back with quick grace and a slight inclination of seeing his valued friend Mr. Angelo Baroviero my most dear sir he exclaimed this is indeed good fortune mine Mr. Jacopo returned Baroviero with equally well feigned astonishment Marietta had looked Contarini full in the face before she had time to draw her veil across her own she stepped back with a disturbing man who stood beside her with his staff she understood instantly that the magnificent patrician was the man of whom her father had spoken as her future husband seen as she had seen him in the glowing church in the most splendid surroundings that could be imagined he was certainly a man who was realizing her appearance then she quickly turned away for she had looked long enough she saw that a woman in black was kneeling by the next pillar watching her intently with a sort of cold stare that almost made her shudder yet the woman was exceedingly beautiful it was easy to see that though the beautiful cheek was more perfectly modeled and turned than in Italians the curling golden hair was more glorious than any Venetians Arisa had come to see her master's bride and he knew that she was there looking on why should he care it was a bargain and he was not going to give up Arisa and the house of the unused day because he who thus insolently came to the same place to look at her pretending not to know one another and when she looked back at Contabini she felt a miserable little thrill of vanity as she noticed that he was looking fixedly at her 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 he would really prefer since Zorzi did not love her but after all it was flattering to be admired by Jacopo Contabini who could choose his wife where he pleased through the whole world. It all happened in a few seconds the two men exchanged a few words to which she paid no attention and took leave of each other with great ceremony and much bowing on both sides. When the father turned at last Marietta was already walking towards the door the servant Beroviaro had scarcely joined her when she started a little and laid her hand upon his arms. The Greek merchant she whispered Beroviaro looked where she was looking by the first pillar gazing intently at Arissa's kneeling figure stood Aristarci his hands folded over his broad chest his shaggy head bent forward his sturdy legs a little apart and whereby he also was to be enriched as Marietta came out of the church she covered her face closely and drew her silk mantle quite around her bending her head a little the servant walked a few paces in front you have seen your future husband my child say Beroviaro I suppose that the young noble was my sir Jacopo Contarini answered Marietta satisfied with my choice for you observed her father to this Marietta said nothing she only bent her head a little lower looking down as she tried delicately over the hot and dusty ground and you are a most ungrateful daughter continued Beroviaro if you do not appreciate my kindness and liberality of mind and allowing you to see him before you are formally betrothed perhaps of mind then I could possibly be retorted the young girl with unbending coldness he has probably not seen many Venetian girls of our class face to face and unveiled he is to be congratulated on his good fortune by my faith exclaimed Beroviaro it is hard to satisfy you I have asked nothing do you mean to say that you have any objections to allege have I said that I should oppose it one may obey without enthusiasm she left coldly like the unprofitable servant I had expected something more of you my child I have been at infinite pains and I am making great sacrifices to procure you a suitable husband and there are scorers of noble girls in Venice who would give ten years of their lives to marry Jacopo Cuntarini 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 marry at all not marry repeated Beroviaro interrupting her in a tone of profound stupefaction and standing still in the sun as he spoke why what is the matter is it so strange that I should be contented with my girls life asked Marietta should I not be ungrateful indeed if I wish to give you and become a wife of a man I have just seen for the first time you use most extraordinary arguments my dear reply Beroviaro quite at a loss for a suitable retort of course I have done my best to make you happy he paused for she had placed him in the awkward position of being angry because she did not wish to leave him I really don't know perhaps there is nothing to be said answered Marietta in a tone of irritating superiority for she certainly had the best of the discussion they had reached the gondola by this time and as the servant sat within hearing of the open door of the fells they could not continue talking about such a matter Beroviaro was glad of it for he regarded the affair as settled and considered if he had sent word to young Contarini that the answer should be given him in a week that was 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 see Marietta in reality the marriage had been determined and settled between Beroviaro and Contarini's father before anything but he had been able to answer with certainty for his wild son's conduct Jacopo had demanded it and his father was so anxious for the marriage that he had communicated the request to Beroviaro the latter always for his dignity's sake had pretended to refuse and had then secretly arranged the matter for Jacopo as has been seen without old Contarini's and her hands lay idly in her lap she felt that she was helpless because she was indifferent and that she could even now have changed the course of her destiny if she had cared to make the effort there was no reason for making any she did not believe that she had really loved Zorzi after all and if she had it seemed today quite impossible that she should ever have married him he was nothing but a wave a half nameless servant a stranger destined to a poor and obscure life as she inwardly repeated some of these considerations she felt a little thrust of remorse for trying to look down on him as impossibly far below her own station and a small voice told her that he was an artist and that if he had chance to be born in Venice he would have been as good as her brothers the future stretched out before her simple nature she could not tell why she had despised Giacopo Conterini from the moment she looked into his beautiful eyes happily women are not expected to explain why they sometimes judge rightly at first sight when a wise man is absurdly deceived Marietta did not understand Giacopo and she easily fancied that because her own character was the stronger she should rule him as easily as she managed Nella it did not occur to her that he was already under the domination of another woman who might prove to be quite as strong as she what she saw was the weakness in his eyes and mouth with such a man she thought there was little to fear but there was nothing to love if she asked he would give if she opposed him he would surrender if she lost her temper and commanded he would obey with petulant refuge and vanity in order to get any satisfaction out of her life and she was not naturally vain the luxuries of those days were familiar to her from her childhood though she had not lived in a palace she had been brought up in a house that was not unlike one she ate off silver plates and drank from glasses that were masterpieces of her father's art she had coffers full of silks and satins and fine there was always gold and silver in her little wallet purse when she wanted anything or wished to give to the poor she was waited on by a maid of her own like any fine lady of Venice and there were a score of idle servants in a house where there were only two masters there was nothing which Contorini could give her that would be more than a little useless exaggeration of what she had already she had no particular desire for what she married women did and she was not especially attracted by the idea of becoming one of them she had been brought up alone she had acquired tastes which other women had not and which would no longer be satisfied in her married life she loved the glass house she delighted in taking a blowpipe herself and making small objects which she decorated as she pleased she felt a lively interest though it was occasionally disturbed by the foolish little storms of his hot temper and until now she had liked to be often with Zorzi that was past of course but the rest remained and it was much to sacrifice for the sake of becoming a Contorini and living on the grand canal with the man she should always despise it was clearly not the idea of marriage that surprised and she did not know and had seen but once girls were brought up to regard marriage as the greatest thing in life as the natural goal to which all their girlhood should tend and at the same time they were taught from childhood that it was all to be arranged for them and that they would in due course grow fond of the man their parents chose for them until Marietta had begun to love Zorzi she had accepted all these things quite naturally and it would have seemed as absurd and perhaps as impossible to rebel against them as to repudiate the religion in which she had been born such beliefs turn into prejudices and assert themselves as soon as whatever momentarily retards them is removed by the time the gondola drew alongside of the steps of the foscorini palace Marietta was convinced that there was nothing for her but to submit to her fate then I am to be married in two months she said in a tone of interrogation and regardless of the servant Beroviaro bent his head in answer and smiled kindly for after all he was grateful to her for accepting his decision so quietly but Marietta was very pale after she had spoken for the audible words somehow make it all seem dreadfully real and out of the shadows of the great entrance hall that opened on the canal she could fancy Zorzi's face looking at her sadly and reproachfully the bargain was made and the woman he loved was sold for life for one moment instinctive womanhood felt that accursed humiliation and the flushing blood rose in the girls cool cheeks she would have blushed deeper had she guessed to had been witnesses of her first meeting with Contorini and old Beroviaro's temper would have broken out furiously if he could have imagined that the Greek pirate somehow miraculously escaped the hangman in Naples had been contemplating with satisfaction the progress of the marriage negotiations sure that he himself should before long be enjoying the better part of Marietta's rich dowry if the old man could have had vision of Jacopo's life he could have suddenly known what the beautiful woman in black was to the patrician Contorini's chance of going home alive that day Beroviaro might have strangled him where he stood and perhaps our starchy would have discreetly turned his back while he was doing it for a few minutes they 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 Contorini had never seen the Greek and Arissa was not aware that he was in the church when Beroviaro and Marietta were gone to walk further up the church our starchy watched them both for in spite of all he did not quite trust the Georgian woman and he had never seen her alone with Jacopo when she was unaware of his own presence yet he was afraid to go near her now lest Arissa should accidentally see him and betray by her manner that she knew him Jacopo turned suddenly when he judged that he could leave the church around the nave he passed close to Arissa and Arista she guessed that their eyes meant for a moment he almost fancied that Contorini's lips moved and he was sure that he smiled but that was all and Arissa remained on her knees not even turning her head a little as her lover went by not so ugly after all Contorini had said under his breath and the careless smile went with the words Arissa's simultaneously as she heard she had drawn back her veil her face was raised as if she were sending up a prayer to heaven and the light fell full on the magnificent whiteness of her throat that showed in strong relief against the black velvet and lace she needed no other answer to what he said but in the scorn of her curving mouth which seemed all meant for Marietta there was contempt for him knocked deliberately by the pillar to the aisle as he passed and listened for the flapping of the heavy leather and curtain at the door then he stole nearer to the place where Arissa was still kneeling and came noiselessly behind her and leaned against the column and watched her not caring if he surprised her now but she did not turn around listening intently the sensational movement of her head he had not believed her when she told him that she said her prayers at night but she was undoubtedly praying now and at the start she watched her with interest as he might have looked at some rare foreign animal whose habits he did not understand she was very intently bent on what she was saying for he stayed there some time scarcely breathing before he turned away end of chapter 7