 Chapter 24 Zorsi sat on a low bench, blackened with age, against the white-washed wall of a small and dimly-lighted room, which was little more than a cell, but was in reality the place where prisoners waited immediately before being taken into the presence of the ten. It was not far from the dreaded chamber in which the three chiefs sometimes heard evidence given under torture. The door was closed and two guards paced the narrow corridor outside with regular and heavy steps, to which Zorsi listened with a beating heart. He was not afraid, for he was not easily frightened, but he knew that his whole future life was in the balance and he longed for the decisive moment to come. He had surrendered on the previous day and Beroviaro had given a large bond for his appearance. There were witnesses of all that had happened. There was the lieutenant of the archers with his six men, some of whom still showed traces of their misadventure. There was Giovanni, whom the governor had forced to appear much against his will, as the principal accuser by the letter which had led to Zorsi's arrest, and the letter itself was in the hands of the council's secretary. But there was also Piscuali, who had seen Zorsi go away quietly with the soldiers and who could speak for his character, and Angelo Beroviaro was there to tell the truth as far as he knew it. But Zorsi was not to be confronted with any of these witnesses, neither with the soldiers who would tell the council strange stories of devils with blue noses and fiery tails, nor with Giovanni, whose letter called him a liar, a thief, and an assassin, nor with Beroviaro, nor Piscuali. The council never allowed the accused man and the witnesses for or against him to be before them at the same time, nor to hold any communication while the trial lasted. That was a rule of their procedure, but they were not by any means the mysterious body of malign monsters, which they have too often been represented to be in an age when no criminal trials could take place without torture. Zorsi waited on his bench, listening to the tread of the guards. As many trials occupied more than one day, his case would come up last of all, and the witnesses would all be examined before he himself was called to make his defense. He was nervous and anxious. Even while he was sitting there, Giovanni might be finding out some new accusation against him, or the officer of archers might be accusing him of witchcraft and of having a compact with the devil himself. He was innocent, but he had broken the law, and no doubt many an innocent man had sat on the same bench before him, who had never again returned to his home. It was not strange that his lips should be parched and that his heart should be beating like a fuller's hammer. At last the footsteps ceased, the key ground and creek desert turned, and the door was opened. Two tall guards stood looking at him, and one of them motioned to him to come. He could never afterwards remember the place through which he was made to pass, for the blood was throbbing in his temple so that he could hardly see. A door was opened and closed after him, and he was suddenly standing alone in the presence of the ten, feeling that he could not find a word to say if he were called upon to speak. A kindly voice broke the silence that seemed to have lasted many minutes. Is this the person we are told is in league with Satan? It was the doge himself who spoke, nodding his hoary head, as very old men do, and looking at Zorzi's face with gentle eyes, almost colorless from extreme age. This is the accused, your highness, replied the secretary from his desk, already holding in his hand Javani's letter. Zorzi saw that the council of ten was much more numerous than its name implied. The counselors were between twenty and thirty, sitting in a semicircle against the carved wooden wainscot on each side of the aged doge, Christopher Moro, who had yet one more year to live. There were other persons present also, of whom one was the secretary, the rest being apparently there to listen to the proceedings and to give advice when they were called upon to do so. In spite of the time of year, the counselors were all splendidly robed in the red velvet mantles, edged with ermine and the velvet caps which made up the state dress of all patricians alike, and the doge wore his peculiar cap and coronet of office. Zorzi had never seen in such an assembly of imposing venerable men, some with long gray beards, some close shaven, all grave, all thoughtful, all watching him with quietly scrutinizing eyes. He stood leaning a little on his stick, and he breathed more freely since the dreaded moment was come at last. Someone made the secretary read the accusation, and Zorzi listened with wonder and disgust to Javani's long epistle, mentally noting the points which he might answer and realizing that if Law was to be interpreted literally, he had undoubtedly rendered himself liable to some penalty. What have you to say? inquired the secretary, looking up from the paper with a pair of small and piercing gray eyes. The Supreme Council will hear your defense. I can tell the truth, said Zorzi simply, and when he had spoken the words, he was surprised that his voice had not trembled. That is all the Supreme Council wishes to hear, answered the secretary, speak on. It is true that I am a deletion, as Zorzi said, and by the laws of Venice I should not have learned the art of glass blowing. I came to Murano more than five years ago, being very poor, and Messer Angelo Beraviero took me in and let me take care of his private furnace at which he makes many experiments. In time he trusted me, and when he wished something made to try the nature of the glass, he let me make it, but not to sell such things. At first they were badly made, but I loved the art, and in short time I grew to be skillful at it. So I learned. Sirs, I crave pardon, Your Highness, and the Lords of the Supreme Council. That is all I have to tell. I love the glass, and I can make light things of it in good design, because I love it as a painter loves his colors and the sculpture his marble. Give me glass and I will make colored air of it, and gossamer and silk and lace. It is all I know. It is my art. I live in it. I feel in it. I dream in it. To my thoughts and eyes and hands, it is what the love of a fair woman is to the heart. While I can work and shape the things I see when I close my eyes, the sun does not move, the day has no time, winter no clouds, and summer no heat. When I am hindered I am in exile and in prison and alone. The doge not at his head in kindly approbation. The young man is a true artist, he said. All this, said one of the chiefs of the ten, would be well if you were a Venetian, but you are not, and the accusation says that you have sold your works to the injury of born Venetians. What have you to say? Sometimes my master has given me money for a beaker or a plate or a bottle, answered Sorzi in some trepidation, for this was the main point. But the things were then his own. How could that do harm to anyone, since no one can make what I can make for the master's own use? And once the other day, as the senior Giovanni's letter says there, he persuaded me to take his piece of gold for a beaker he saw in my hand and I said that I would ask the master when he came back, whether I might keep the money or not, and besides I left the piece of money on the table in my master's laboratory and the beaker in the annealing oven when they came to arrest me. That is the only work for which I ever took money except from the master himself. Why did the Greek Captain Aristarci beat the governor's men and carry you away? Asked another of the chiefs. Sorzi was not surprised that the name of his rescuer should be known, for the ten were believed to possess universal intelligence. I do not know, he answered quite simply. He did not tell me while he kept me with him. I had only seen him once before that night, on a day when he came to treat with the master for a cargo of glass which he never bought. I gave myself up to the archers as I gave myself up to your lordships, for I thought that I should have justice the sooner if I sought it instead of trying to escape from it. Your Highness, said one of the oldest counselors, addressing the doge, is it not a pity that such a man as this, who is a good artist and who speaks the truth, should be driven out of Venice by a law that was not meant to touch him? For indeed the law exists in all ways will, but it is meant to hinder strangers from coming to Murano and learning the art in order to take it away with them, and this we can prevent. But we surely desire to keep here all those who know how to practice it for the greater advantage of our commerce with other nations. That is the intention of our laws, assented the doge. Your Highness, my lords, cried Sorzi, who had taken courage from what the counselor had said, if this law is not made for such as I am, I entreat you to grant me your forgiveness if I have broken it, and make it impossible for me to break it again. My lords, you have the power to do what I ask. I beseech you that I may be permitted to work at my art as if I were a Venetian, and even to keep fires in a small furnace of my own as other workmen may, when they have saved money, that I may labor to the honor of all glassmakers and for the good reputation of Murano. This is what I most humbly ask, imploring that it may be granted to me, but always according to your good pleasure. When he had spoken thus, asking all that was left for him to desire and amazed at his own boldness, he was silent, and the counselors began to discuss the question among themselves. At a sign from the chiefs, the urn into which the votes were cast was brought and set before the doge for all was decided by ballots with colored balls, and no man knew how his neighbor voted. Have you anything more to say? asked the secretary, again speaking to Zorzi. I have said all, save to thank your highness and your lordships with all my heart, answered the Dalmatian. Withdraw and await the decision of the supreme council. Zorzi cast one more glance at the great half-circle of venerable men, at their velvet robes, at the carved wainscot, at the painted vault above, and after making a low obeisance he found his way to the door outside which the guards were waiting. They took him back to a cell like the one where he had already sat so long, but which was reached by another passage, for everything in the palace was so disposed as to prevent the possibility of one prisoner meeting another on his way to the tribunal or coming from it, and for this reason the bridge of size, which was then not yet built, was afterwards made to contain two separate passages. It seemed a long time before the tread of guards ceased again and the door was opened, and Zorzi rose as quickly as he could when he saw that it was the secretary of the ten who entered, carrying in his hand a document which had a seal attached to it. Your prayer is granted, said the man with the sharp eyes. By this patent the supreme council permits you to set up a glassmaker's furnace of your own in Murano and confers upon you all the privileges of a born glassblower and promises you a special protection if anyone shall attempt to interfere with your rights. Zorzi took the precious parchment eagerly and he felt the hot blood rushing to his face as he tried to thank the secretary, but in a moment the busy personage was gone after speaking a word to the guards and Zorzi heard the rustling of his silk gown in the corridor. You are free sir, said one of the guards very civilly and holding the door open. Zorzi went out in a dream finding his way he knew not how as he received a word of direction here and there from soldiers who guarded the staircases. When he was aware of outer things he was standing under the portico that surrounded the courtyard of the Ducal Palace. The broad parchment was unrolled in his hands and his eyes were puzzling over the latin words and the unfamiliar abbreviations. On one side of him stood old Veroviaro reading over his shoulder with absorbed interest and on the other was one Venier glancing at the document with a careless certainty of one who knows what to expect. Two steps away Persqually stood in his best clothes and his clean shirt for he had been one of the witnesses and he was firmly planted on his bowed legs his long arms hanging down by his sides his little red eyes were fixed on Zorzi's face his ugly jaw was set like a mastiff's and his extraordinary face seemed cut in two by a monstrous smile of delight. It seems to be an order said Venier politely smothering with his gloved hand at the beginning of a yawn. I owe it to you I am sure answered Zorzi turning grateful eyes to him. No I assure you said the patrician but I dare say it has made us all change our opinion of the ten he added with a smile. Goodbye let me come and see you work at your own furnace before long I have always wished to see glass blown. Without waiting for more he walked quickly away waving his hand after he had already turned. It was noon when Zorzi had folded his patent carefully and hidden it in his bosom and he and Vera Vieiro and Persqually went out of the busy gateway under the outer portico. Vera Vieiro led the way to the right and they passed St. Mark's in the blazing sun and the patriarch's palace and came to the shady landing the very one at which the old man and his daughter had got out when they had come to the church to meet Contorini the gondola was waiting there and Vera Vieiro pushed Zorzi gently before him. You are still lame he said get in first and sit down but Zorzi drew back for a woman's hand was suddenly thrust out of the little window of the fells with a quick gesture. There is a lady inside said Zorzi. Marietta is in the gondola answered Vera Vieiro with a smile she would not stay at home but there is room for us all get in my son. This ends chapter 24 and this ends Marietta a maid of Venice by Francis Marion Crawford recorded by Michelle Fry Battenridge Louisiana thank you for listening and I hope you've enjoyed it.