 16 Marietta's Heart Stood Still as she bent over the back of the chair holding it with both her hands but feeling that she was falling. She had expected anything but this when Nella had begun to speak. The blow was sudden and heavy and she herself had never known how much she could be hurt until that moment. Nella looked at her in astonishment. The serving woman had changed her mind about Zorzi of late and had grown fond of him in taking care of him. But her anger against Giovanni was roused rather because what he was about to do was an affront to his father, her master. Then out of mere sympathy for the intended victim she was far from understanding what could have so deeply moved Marietta. You see, she said triumphantly, what sort of a brother you have? The sound of her voice recalled the young girl just when she felt that she was losing consciousness. Her first instinct was to go to Zorzi and warn him he must escape at once. The governor had said that it should be tomorrow but he might change his mind and send his men to-night. There was no time to be lost, she must go instantly. As she stood upright she could see the porter's light shining through the small grated window for Pascuali was still awake but in a few minutes the light would go out. She had often been at her own window at that hour and had watched it wondering whether Zorzi would work far into the night and whether he was thinking of her. It would be easy to slip out by the side door and run across, no one would know except Nella and Pascuali, but she would have preferred that only the latter should be in the secret. She was still dressed, though her hair was undone and the hood of the thin silk mantle would hide that. Her mind reasoned by instantaneous flashes now and she had full control of herself again. She would tell Nella that she was going downstairs again for a little while and she would also tell her to make an infusion of lime flowers and to bring it in half an hour and wait for her. Down the main staircase to the landing, down the narrow stairs in the dark, out into the street. She would not take long and she would tap very softly at the door of the glass house. When she said that she would go down again, Nella suspected nothing. On the contrary, she thought her mistress was wise. You will lead on the Senora Giovanni to talk of Zorzi, she said. You will learn something. And make me a drink of lime flowers, continued Marietta. The housekeeper has plenty. I know, I know, answered Nella. How you come up again soon? Be here in half an hour with the drink and wait for me. You had better go for the lime flowers before the housekeeper is asleep. I will twist my hair up again before I go down. Nella nodded and disappeared, for the housekeeper generally went to bed very early. As soon as she was out of the room, Marietta took her silk cloak and wrapped herself in it during the end over her head so as to hide her hair and shade her face. She was pale still but her lips were tightly closed and her eyelids a little drawn together as she left the room. She met no one on the stairs. In the dark when she reached the door she could feel the oak bar that was set across it at night and she slipped it back into its hole in the wall without making much noise. She lifted the latch and went out. The night was still and clear and the young moon was sitting. If anyone had been looking out she must have been seen as she crossed the wooden bridge and she glanced nervously back at the open windows. There were lights in the big room and she heard Giovanni's monotonous voice as he talked to his wife but there was shadow under the glass house and a moment later she was tapping softly at the door. Piscuali looked down from the grading and was about to say something uncomplementary when he recognized her for he could see very well when there was little light like most sailors. He opened the door at once and stood aside and let Marietta enter. Shut the door quickly, she whispered and did not open it for anyone to like him out. Piscuali obeyed in silence. He knew as well as she did that Giovanni was sitting in the big room with open windows with an easy hearing of ordinary sounds. A feeble light came through the open door of the porter's lodge. Is Orsie awake? Marietta asked in a low tone when both had gone a few steps down the corridor. Yes, he will sleep little tonight for the boys have not come and he must tend to fire himself. Marietta guessed that her brother had given the order so that Orsie might be left quite alone. Piscuali, she said, I can trust you, I'm sure. You are a good friend of Orsie. The porter growled something incoherent but she understood what he meant. Yes, she continued, I trust you and you must trust me. It is absolutely necessary that I should speak with Orsie alone tonight. No one knows that I have left the house and no one must know that I have been here. The old sailor had seen much in his day, but he was profoundly astonished at Marietta's audacity. You are the mistress, he said in a grave and quiet voice that Marietta had never heard before, but I am an old man and I cannot help telling you that it is not seemly for a young girl to be alone at night with a young man in the place where he lives. You will forgive me for saying so because I have served your father a long time. You're quite right, answered Marietta, but in matters of life and death, there is nothing seemly or unseemly. I have not time to explain all this. Orsie is in great danger. For my father's sake I must warn him and I cannot stay out long. Not even Nella must know that I am here. Be ready to let me out. She almost ran down the corridor to the garden. The moon was already too low to shine upon the wall, but the beams silvered the higher leaves of the plain tree and all was clear and distinct. Even in her haste, she glanced at the place where she had so often sat before her life had begun to change. There was a strong light in the laboratory and the window was open. She looked in and saw Zorzi sitting in the great chair. His head leaning back and his eyes closed. He was so pale and worn that she felt a sharp pain as her eyes fell on his face. His crutch was beside him and he seemed to be asleep. It was a pity to wake him, she thought, yet she could not lose time. She had lost too much already in talking with Pasquale. Zorzi, she called himself Lee. He started in his sleep, opened his eyes wide and tried to spring up without his crutch, for he fancied himself in a dream. She had thrown back the drapery that covered her head and the bright light fell upon her face. It hurt her again to see how he staggered and put out his hand for his accustomed support. I am coming in, she said quietly. Do not move unless the door is locked. She met him before he was half across the room. Instinctively she put out her hand to help him back to his chair. Then she understood that he did not need it, for he was much better now. She saw that he looked to the window, expecting to see Nella, and she smiled. I am alone, she said. You see how I trust you? Only Pasquale knows I am here. You must sit down and I will sit beside you, for I have much to say. He looked at her in silent wonder for a moment, happy beyond words to be with her, but very anxious as to the reasons, which could have brought her to him at such an hour and quite alone. Her manner was so quiet and decided that it did not even occur to him to protest against her coming, and he sat down as she bade him, but on the bench, and she seated herself in the chair, turning in it so that she could see his face. They were near enough to speak in low tones. My brother Giovanni hates you, she began. He means to ruin you if he can, before my father comes home. I am not afraid of him, said Zorzi, speaking for the first time since she had entered. Let him do his worst. You do not know what his worst is, answered Marietta, and he has got Monsieur Giacopo Contorini to help him. You are surprised? Yes, my betrothed husband has promised to speak with his father against you at once. You know that he is of the council. Zorzi's face expressed the utmost astonishment. Are you quite sure that it is Giacopo Contorini? He asked, as if unable to believe what she said. Is it likely that I should be mistaken? My brother was with him this afternoon at the palace. Our gondolier heard them talking on the stairs as they came down. He told Nella and she has just told me. Giovanni heaped all sorts of abuse on you and Monsieur Giacopo agreed with all he said. Then they spoke of arresting you and bringing you to justice and they talked of the council. After that Giovanni met with the governor of Morano and got into his gondola and they talked in a low tone. My brother gave him a sealed document and the governor said that it should not be tonight but tomorrow that is all I know but it is enough. Zorzi half closed his eyes for a moment in deep thought and in a flash he understood that Contorini wished him out of the way and was taking the first means that offered to get rid of him. To keep faith with such a man would be as foolish as to expect any faithfulness from him. Zorzi opened his eyes again and looked at the face of the woman he loved. His oath to the society had stood between him and her and he knew that it was no longer binding on him since Giacopo Contorini was helping to send him to destruction. Yet now that it was gone he saw also that it had been the least of the obstacles that made up the barrier. Of what do they accuse me? He asked after a moment's silence. What can they prove against me? I cannot tell, it matters very little, do you understand? Tomorrow if not tonight the governor's men will come here and arrest you and if you have not escaped you will be imprisoned and taken before the council. They may accuse you of being involved in a conspiracy. They may torture you. She shivered at the thought and looked into his dark eyes with fear and pity. His lip curled a little disdainfully. Do you think that I shall run away? He asked. You will not stay here and let them arrest you? cried Marietta anxiously. Your father left me here to take care of what belongs to him and there is much that is valuable. I thank you very much for warning me but I know what your brother means to do and I shall not go away of my own accord. If he can have me taken off by force he will come here alone and search the place. If he searches long enough he may find what he wants. Is Paolo Gaudi's manuscript in this room? asked Marietta quietly. Zorzi stared at her in surprise. How did you know that your father left it with me? He asked. He would not have entrusted it to anyone else. That is natural. My brother wants it. Is that the reason why you will not escape? Or is there any other? That is the principal reason answered Zorzi. Another is that there is valuable glass here which your brother would take. Which he would steal said Marietta bitterly but Pasquale can bury it in the garden after you're gone. The principal thing is the book. Give it to me. I will take care of it till my father comes back until then you must hide somewhere for it is madness to stay here. Give me the book and let me take it away at once. I cannot give it to you. Zorzi said with a puzzled expression which Marietta did not understand. You do not trust me. She answered sadly. He did not reply at once for the words made no impression on him when he heard them. He trusted her altogether but there was a material difficulty in the way. He remembered how long it had taken to hide the iron box under broken glass and he knew how long it would take to get it out again. Marietta could not stay in the laboratory late into the night and yet if she did not take the box with her now she might not be able to take it at all since neither she nor Nella could have carried it to the house by day without being seen. Marietta rested her elbow on the arm of the big chair and her hand supported her chin in an attitude of thought as she looked steadily at Zorzi's face and her own was grave and sad. You never trusted me, she said presently. Yet I have been a good friend, do you, have I not? A friend? Oh, much more than that. Zorzi turned his eyes from her. I trust you with all my heart. She shook her head incredulously. If you trusted me you would do what I ask, she said. I have risked something to help you perhaps to save your life, who knows? Do you know what would happen if my brother found me here alone with you? I should end my life in a convent. But if you will not save yourself I might as well not have come. I would give you the book if I could, answered Zorzi, but I cannot. It is hidden in such a way that it would take a long time to get it out. That is the simple truth. Your father and I had buried it here under the stones but somehow your brother suspected that and I have changed the hiding place. It took a whole morning to do it. Still Marietta did not quite believe that he could not give it to her if he chose. It seemed as if there must always be a shadow between them when they were together, always the beginning of a misunderstanding. Where is it? She asked after a moment's hesitation. If you are in earnest, you will tell me. It is better that you should know in case anything happens to me, answered Zorzi. It is buried in that big jar in some three feet of broken glass. I had to take the glass out bit by bit and put it all back again. As Marietta looked at the jar, a little color rose in her face again. Thank you, she said. I know you trust me now. I always have, he answered softly, and I always shall, even when you are married to Jacopo Condorini. That is still far off. Let us not talk of it. You must get ready to leave this place before morning. You must take this gift and get away to the mainland, if you can. For till my father comes, you will not be safe in Venice. I shall not go away, said Zorzi firmly. They may not try to arrest me after all. But they will, I know they will. All her anxiety for him came back in a moment. You must go at once, Zorzi, to please me. For my sake, leave tonight. For your sake? There is nothing I would not do for your sake, except be a coward. But it is not cowardly, pleaded Marietta. There is nothing else to be done. And if my father could know what you risk by staying, he would tell you to go as I do. Please, please, please. I cannot. Oh, Zorzi, if you have the least friendship for me, do what I ask. Do you not see that I am half mad with anxiety? I entreat you, I beg you, I implore you. Their eyes met and hers were wide with fear for him and earnestness, and they were not quite dry. Do you care so much? Asked Zorzi, hardly knowing what he said. Does it matter so much to you what becomes of me? He moved nearer on the bench, leaning towards her where he sat. He could rest his elbow on the broad arm of the low chair, and so look into her face. She covered her eyes and shook a little, and her mantle slipped from her shoulders and trembled as it settled down into the chair. He leaned farther till he was close to her, and he tried to uncover her eyes very gently, but she resisted. His heart beat slowly and hard like strokes of a hammer, and his hands were shaking when he drew her nearer. Presently he himself sat upon the arm of the chair, holding her close to him, and she let him press her head to his breast, for she could not think anymore. And all at once her hands slipped down and she was resting in the hollow of his arm, looking up to his face. It seemed a long time, as long as whole years, since she had meant to drop another rose in his path, or even since she had suffered him to press her hand for a moment. The whole tale was told now in one touch, in one look, with little resistance and less fear. I love you, he said slowly and earnestly, and the words were strange to his own ears, for he had never said them before, nor had she ever heard them. And when they are spoken in that way, they are the most wonderful words in the world, both to speak and to hear. The look he had so rarely seen was there now, and there was no care to hide what was in her eyes, for she had told him all without a word, as women can. I have loved you very long, he said again, and with one hand he pressed back her hair and smoothed it. I know it, she answered, gazing at him with lips just ported, but I have loved you longer still. How could I guess it, he asked. It seems so wonderful, so very strange. I could not say it first, she smiled, and yet I tried to tell you without words, did you? She nodded as her head lay in his arm and closed her smiling lips tightly and nodded again. You would not understand, she said. You always made it hard for me. Oh, if I had only known. She lay quietly on his arm for a few seconds and neither spoke. Only the low roar of the furnace was heard in the hot stillness. Marietta looked up steadily into his face with unwinking eyes. How you look at me, he said with a happy smile. I have often wanted to look at you like this, she answered gravely, but until you had told me, how could I? He bent down rather timidly, but drawn to her by a power he could not resist. His first kiss touched her forehead lightly with a sort of boyish reverence while a thrill ran through every nerve and fiber of his body. But she turned in his arms and suddenly through her arms around his neck and in an instant their lips met. Zorzi was in a dream where Marietta alone was real. All thought and recollection of danger vanished. The very room was not the laboratory where he had so long lived and worked and thought and suffered. The walls were gold, the stone pavement was a silken carpet. The shadowy, smoke-stained beams were the carved ceiling of a palace. He was himself the king and master of the whole world and he held all his kingdom in his arms. You understand now, Marietta said at last, holding his face before her with her hands. No, he answered lovingly. I do not understand, I will not even try. If I do, I shall open my eyes and it will suddenly be daylight and I shall put out my hands and find nothing. I shall be alone in my room, just awake and aching with a horrible longing for the impossible. You do not know what it is to dream of you and wake in the grey dawn? You cannot guess what the emptiness is, the loneliness. I know it well, said Marietta. I have been perfectly happy talking to you under the plain tree, your hand in mine and mine in yours, our eyes in each other's eyes, our hearts one heart. And then all at once there was Nella standing at the foot of my bed with a big dish in her hands, laughing at me because I have been sleeping so soundly. Oh, sometimes I could kill her for waking me. She drew his face to hers with a little laugh that broke off short for a kiss is a grave matter. How much time we have wasted all these months, she said presently, why would you never understand? How could I guess that you could ever love me? Zorzi asked. I guess that you loved me, objected Marietta. At least she added correcting herself. I was quite sure of it for a little while. Then I did not believe it all. If I had believed it quite, they should never have betrothed me to Jacopo Contorini. The name recalled all realities to Zorzi, though she spoke it very carelessly, almost with scorn. Zorzi sighed and looked up at last and stared at the wall opposite. What is it, asked Marietta quickly, why do you sigh? There is reason enough. Are you not betrothed to him, as you say? Marietta straightened herself suddenly and made him look at her. A quick light was in her eyes as she spoke. Do you know what you're saying? Do you think that if I meant to marry Mr. Jacopo, I should be here now, that I should let you hold me in your arms, that I would kiss you? Do you really believe that? I could not believe it, Zorzi answered. And yet. And yet you almost do, she cried. What more do you need to know that I love you with all my heart and soul and will, and that I mean to be your wife, come what may? How is it possible, asked Zorzi almost disconsolidly, how could you ever marry me? What am I after all, compared with you? I'm not even a Venetian. I am a stranger, a wife, a man with neither name nor fortune, and I am half a cripple, lame for life. How can you marry me? At the first word of such a thing, your father will join his son against me, I shall be thrown into prison on some false charge, and shall never come out again, unless it be to be hanged for some crime I never committed. There is a very simple way of preventing all those dreadful things, answered Marietta. I wish I could find it. Take me with you, she said calmly. Zorzi looked at her in dumb surprise, for she could not have said anything which she had expected less. Listen to me, she continued. You cannot stay here, or rather you shall not, for I will not let you. No, you need not smile and shake your head, for I will find some means of making you go. You will find that hard, dear love, for that is the only thing I will not do for you. Is it? We shall see. You are very brave and you are very, very obstinate, but you are not very sensible, for you are only a man after all. In the first place, do you imagine that even if Giovanni were to spend a whole week in this room, he would think of looking for the box amongst the broken glass? No, I do not think he would, answered Zorzi. That was sensible of me at all events. She laughed. Oh, you are clever enough. I never said that you were not that. I only said that you had no sense. As for instance, since you are sure that my brother cannot find the box, why do you wish to stay here? I promised your father that I would. I will keep my promise at all costs. In which of two ways shall you be of more use to my father? If you hide in a safe place till he comes home and if you then come back to him and help him as before, or if you allow yourself to be thrown into prison and tried and perhaps hanged or banished for something you never did, and if any harm comes to you, what do you think would become of me? Do you see I told you that you had no common sense? Now will you believe me? But if all this is not enough to make you go, I have another plan which you cannot possibly oppose. What is that? Asked Zorzi. I will go alone. I will cross the bridge and to take the skiff and row myself over to Venice and from Venice I will get to the mainland. You could not row a skiff, objected Zorzi, amused at the idea. You would fall off or upset her. Then I should drown, returned Marietta philosophically and you would be sorry whether you thought it was your fault or not. Is that true? Yes. Very well. If you will not promise me faithfully to escape to the mainland tonight, I swear to you by all that you and I believe in and most of all by our love for each other that I will do what I said and run away from my father's house tonight, but you will not let me go alone, will you? No. There you see. Of course you would not let me go alone. Me, a poor weak girl who have never taken a step alone in my life until tonight. And they say that the world is so wicked. What would become of me if you let me go away alone? If I thought you meant to do it. He laughed again and drew her to him and would have kissed her, but she held him back and looked at him honestly. I mean it, she said. That is what I will do. I swear that I will. Yes, now you may. And she kissed him of her own accord, but quickly withdrew herself from his arms again. You have your choice and you must choose quickly for I have been here too long and it must be nearly half an hour since I left my room and Nella is waiting for me thinking that I am with my brother and his wife. Promise me to do what I ask and I will go back. And when my father comes home I will tell him the whole truth. That is the wisest thing after all. Or I will go with you if you will take me as I am. No, he answered with an effort. I will not take you with me. It cost him a hard struggle to refuse. There she was resting against his arm in the blush and wealth of unspent love asking to go with him who loved her better than his life. But in a quick vision he saw her with him. She who was delicately nurtured and used from childhood to all the care and money could give. He saw her with him sharing his misery, his hunger and his wandering suffering silently for love's sake but suffering much and he could not bear the fancied sight. I should be in your way. She said, besides they would send all over Italy to find me. It is not that he answered. You might starve. She looked up anxiously to his face and you, have you no money? No, how should I have money? I believe I have one piece of gold and a little silver. It will be enough to keep me from starvation till I can get work somewhere. I can live on bread and water as I have many a time. If I had only thought, exclaimed Marietta, I have so much. My father left me a little purse of gold that I shall never need. I would not take your father's money, answered Zorzi, but have no fear. If I go at all, I shall do well enough. Besides, there is a man in Venice. He stopped short, not wishing to speak of Swan Veniere. You must not make any condition, she answered, not heeding the unfinished sentence. You must go at once. She rose as she spoke. Every minute I stay here makes it more dangerous for me to go back, she said. I know you will keep your promise. We must say goodbye. He had risen to and stood facing her, his crutch under his arm. In all her anxiety for his safety, she had half forgotten that his wound was barely healed and that he still walked with great difficulty. And now at the thought of leaving him, she forgot everything else. They had been so cruelly short, those few minutes of perfect happiness between the long misunderstanding that had kept them apart and departing again that was to separate them, perhaps for months. As they looked at each other, they both grew pale and in an instant Zorzi's young face looked haggard and his eyes seemed to grow hollow while Marietta is filled with tears. Goodbye, she cried in a broken voice. God keep you, my dear love. Then her face was buried in the hollow of his shoulder and her tears flowed fast and burning hot. End of chapter 16. Chapter 17 of Marietta, A Maid of Venice by Francis Marion Crawford. The Sleaver-Vox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 17. It was over at last and Zorzi stood alone by the table for Marietta would not let him go with her to the door. She could not trust herself before Pasquale even in the gloom. He stood by the table, leaning on it heavily with one hand and trying to realize all that had come into his lonely life within the half hour and all that might happen to him before morning. The glorious and triumphant certainty which first love brings to every man when it is first returned, still swelled his heart and filled the air he breathed so that while breathing deep he could not breathe enough. In such a mood all dangers dwindled, all obstacles sank out of sight, as shadows sink at dawn and yet the parting had hurt him as if his body had been wrenched in the middle by some resistless force. Women feel parting differently. Shall we men ever understand them? To a man first love is a victory. To a girl it is a sweet wonder and a joy and a tender longing all in one. And when partings come as come they must in life until death brings the last, it is always the man who leaves and the woman who is left. Even though in plain fact it be the man that stays behind and we men feel a little contemptuous pity for one who seems to cry out after the woman he loves asking why she has left him and beseeching her to come back to him. But our compassion for the woman in like case is always sincere. In such small things there are the great mysteries of that prime difference which neither man nor woman can ever fully understand but which if not understood a little is the cause of much miserable misunderstanding in life. So as he had to face the future at once for it was upon him and the old life was over perhaps never to come again, he stood still where he was for any useless movement was an effort and he tried to collect his thoughts and determine just what he should do and how it was to be done. His eye fell on the piece of gold Giovanni had paid for the beaker. In the morning if he drew the iron tray further down the annealing oven the glass would be ready to be taken out and Giovanni could take it if he pleased for he knew whose it was but starvation itself could not have induced Zorzi to take the money now. He turned from it with contempt. All he needed was enough to buy bread for a week and mere bread cost little that little he had and it must suffice. Besides that he would make a bundle small enough to be easily carried. His chief difficulty would be in rowing the skiff. To use the single ore at all it was almost indispensable to stand and to stand chiefly on the right foot since the single rollock as in every Venetian boat was on the starboard side and could not be shifted to port. He fancied that in some way he could manage to sit on the thwart and use the ore as a paddle. In any case he must get away since flight was the wisest course and since he had promised Marietta that he would go. His reflections had occupied scarce half a minute. He began to walk towards the small room where he slept and where he kept his few possessions. He had taken two steps from the table when he stopped short turned around and listened. He heard the sound of light footsteps running along the path and coming nearer. In another moment Marietta was at the window her face deadly white, her eyes wide with fear. They are here, she cried wildly. They have come to night. Hide yourself quickly. Pascuali will keep them out as long as again. She had found Pascuali stoutly refusing to open the door. Outside stood a lieutenant of the archers with half a dozen men demanding admittance in the name of the governor. Pascuali answered that they might get in by force if they could but that he had no orders to open the door to them. The lieutenant was in doubt whether his warrant authorized him to break in or not. Zorzi knew that Marietta was any even more danger than he. The situation was desperate and the time was short. She was still at the window looking in. You know your way to the main furnace rooms. Zorzi said quickly but with great coolness. Run in there and stand still in the dark till everything is quiet. Then slip out and get home as quickly as possible. But you, what will become of you? asked Marietta in an agony of anxiety. If they do not take me at once, they will search all the buildings and will find you answered Zorzi. I will go and meet them while you are hiding. He opened the door beside the window and put his crutch forward upon the path. At the same moment, the sound of a tremendous blow echoed down the dark corridor. The moon was low but had not set and it was still light in the garden. Quickly, Zorzi exclaimed, they are breaking down the door. But Marietta clung to him almost savagely when he tried to push her in the direction of the main furnace rooms on the other side of the garden. I will not leave you, she cried. They shall take me with you wherever you are going. She grasped his hand with both her hands and then as he moved she slipped her arm around him. At the street door, the pounding blows succeeded each other in quick succession but apparently without effect. Zorzi saw that he must make her understand her extreme danger. He took hold of her wrist with the quiet strength that recalled her to herself and there was a tone of command in his voice when he spoke, go at once, he said. It will be worse for both of us if you are found here. They will hang me for stealing the master's daughter as well as his secrets. Go, dear love, go, goodbye. He kissed her once and then gently pushed her from him. She understood that she must obey and that if he spoke of his own danger it was for the sake of her good name. With a gesture of despair she turned and left him, crossed the patch of light without looking back and disappeared into the shadows beyond. She was safe now for he would go and meet the archers opening the door to give himself up. Using his crutch he swung himself along into the dark corridor without another moment's hesitation. But matters did not turn out as he expected. When the force came down the footway from the dilution of San Piero, Giovanni was still talking to his wife about household economies and censoring what he called the reckless extravagance of his father's housekeeping. As he talked he heard the even tread of a number of marching men. He sprang to his feet and went to the window for he guessed who was coming, though he could not imagine why the governor had not waited till the next day as had been agreed. He could not know that on leaving him, Giacomo Contorini had seen his father and had told him of Zorzi's misdeeds and that the governor had sucked with old Contorini who was an uncompromising champion of the law besides being one of the 10 and therefore the governor's superior in office. And that Contorini had advised that Zorzi should be taken on the same night as he might be warned of his danger and find means of escape. Moreover, Contorini offered a trustee and swift oresman to take the order to Murano and the governor wrote it on the supper table between two draughts of Greek wine which he drank from a goblet made by Angelo Beraviero himself in the days when he still worked at the art. In half an hour the warrant was in the hands of the officer who immediately called out half a dozen of his men and marched them down to the glass house. Giovanni saw them stop and knock at the door and he heard Pasquale's gruff inquiry. And the governor's name open at once said the officer. Anyone can say that answered the porter. In the devil's name go home and go to bed. Is this carnival time to go masquerading by the light of the moon and waking up honest people? Silence, roared the lieutenant. Open the door or it will be the worst for you. It will be the worst for you if the senior Giovanni hears this disturbance. Answered Pasquale who could see Giovanni at the window opposite in the moonlight. Either get orders from him or go home and leave me in holy peace. You band of braying jackasses. You mob of blubber limp barbery apes. You peck of dotish droiling daughter jolt heads. Be off. This eloquence combined with Pasquale's assured manner caused the lieutenant to hesitate before breaking down the door. An operation for which he had not been prepared and for which he had brought no engines of battery. Can you get in? He inquired of his man without daining to answer the porter's invectives. If not, let one of you go for a sledgehammer. Try it with the butts of your halberds against the lock. One, two, three and all at once. Oh, break down the door, cried Pasquale derisively. It is a vogue and ironed and it costs good money and you shall pay for it, you lovely oafs. But the men pounded away with a good will. Open the door, cried Giovanni from the opposite window at the top of his lungs. The sight of the destruction of property for which he might have to account to his father was very painful to him, but he could not make himself heard in the terrific din or else Pasquale suspected the truth and pretended that he did not hear. The porter had seen Marietta a moment in the gloom and he knew that she had gone back to warn Zorzi. He hoped to give them both time to hide themselves and he now retired from the grading and began to strengthen the door first by putting two more heavy oak bars in their places across it near the top and the bottom and further by bringing the scanty furniture from his lodge and piling it up against the panels. Meanwhile, the pounding continued at a great rate and Giovanni thought it better to go down and interfere in person since he could not make himself heard. The servants were all roused by this time and many heads were looking out of the upper windows, not only from Vero Vero's house, but from the houses higher up beyond the wooden bridge. Two men who were walking up the footway from the opposite direction stopped at a little distance and looked on, their hoods drawn over their eyes. Giovanni came out hurriedly and crossed the bridge. He laid his hand on the lieutenant's shoulder anxiously and spoke close to his ear, for the pounding was deafening. The six men had strapped their halberds firmly together in a solid bundle with their belts and standing three on each side, they swung the whole mass of wood and iron like a battering ram in a regular time. Stop them, sir, stop them, pray, cried Giovanni, I will have the door open for you. Suddenly there was silence as the officer caught one of his men by the arm and bade them all wait. Who are you, sir? he inquired. I am Giovanni Vero Vero, answered Giovanni, sure that his name would inspire respect. The officer took off his cap politely and then replaced it. The two men who were looking on nudged each other. I have a warrant to arrest a certain Zorzi, began the lieutenant. I know, it is quite right and he is within, answered Giovanni. Pascuali, he called, standing on tiptoe under the grating, Pascuali, open the door at once for these gentlemen. Gentlemen echoed one of the men softly with a low laugh and digging his elbow into his companion's side. No one else spoke for a moment. Then Pascuali looked through the grating. What did you say? he asked. I said, open the door at once, answered Giovanni. Can you not recognize the officers of the law when you see them? No, grunted Pascuali. I have never seen much of them. Did you say I was to open the door? Yes, cried Giovanni angrily for he wished to show his zeal before the officer. Blockhead, he added with emphasis as Pascuali disappeared again and was presumably out of hearing. They all heard him dragging the furniture away again, the box bed and the table and the old chair. Zorzi came up as Pascuali was clearing the stuff away. They want you, said the old sailor, seeing him and hearing him at the same time. What have you been doing now? Where is the young lady? In the main furnace room, whispered Zorzi, do not let them go there, whatever they do. Pascuali gave vent to his feelings in a low voice as he dragged the last things back and began to unbar the door. Zorzi leaned against the wall for his lameness prevented him from helping. At last the door was opened and he saw the figures of the men outside against the light. He went forward as quickly as he could, pushing past Pascuali to get out. He stood on the threshold leaning on his crush. I am Zorzi, he said quietly. Zorzi the Dalmatian called a ballerin, asked the lieutenant. Yes, yes, Cragivani ashes to hasten matters. They called him the dancer because he is lame. This is that foreign liar, that thief, that assassin. Take him quickly. The archers who in the changes of time had become halberdeers had dropped the bundle of spears they had made for the battering ram. Two of them took Zorzi by the arms roughly and prepared to drag him along with them. He made no resistance but objected quietly. I can walk better if you do not hold me, he said. I cannot run away as you see. Let him walk between you, ordered the officer. Good night, sir, he said to Giovanni. Two of the men lifted the bundle of halberds and began to carry it between them, trying to undo the straps as they walked, for they could not stay behind. Giovanni saluted the officer and stood aside for the party to pass. The two men who had looked on had separated and one had already gone forward and disappeared beyond the bridge. The other lingered, apparently still interested in the proceedings. Pascuali, dumb with rage at last, stood in the doorway. Let me pass, said Giovanni as soon as the archers had gone on a few steps surrounding Zorzi. With a growl, Pascuali came out and stood on the pavement a moment and Giovanni went in. Instantly the man who had lingered made a step towards the porter, whispered something in his ear and then made off as fast as he could in the direction taken by the archers. Pascuali looked after him in surprise, only half understanding the meaning of what he had said. Then he went in but left the door ajar. The people who had been looking out the windows of Bero Vero's house had disappeared when they had seen Giovanni was on the footway. All was silent now, only far off the tramp of the archers could still be heard. They could not go very fast with Zorzi in their midst but the two men who were busy unfastening the bundle of howards lagged in the rear, talking in a low voice. They did not notice quick footsteps behind them but they heard a low whistle, answered instantly by another just as the main party was nearing the corner by the church of San Piero. That was the last the two loiterers remembered. For the next instant they lay in a heap upon the howards which had fallen upon the pavement with a tremendous clatter. A couple of well-delivered blows with a stout stick had thoroughly stunned them almost at the same instant. It would be some time before they recovered their senses. While the man who had whispered to Pascuali was doing effectual work in the rear, his companion was boldly attacking the main party in front. As the lieutenant stopped short and turned his head when the howards dropped, a blow under the jaw from a fist like a sledgehammer almost lifted him off his feet and sent him reeling till he felt senseless, half a dozen paces away. Before the two archers who were guarding Zorzi could defend themselves unarmed as they were, another blow had felled one of them. The second, springing forward, was caught up like a child by his terrible assailant and whirled through the air to fall with a noisy splash into the shallow waters of the canal. The other companion attacked the remaining two from behind with his club and knocked one of them down. The last sprang to one side and ran on a few steps as fast as he could, but swifter feet followed him and in an instant iron fingers were clutching his throat and squeezing his breath out. He struggled a moment and then sank down. His captor deliberately knocked him on the head with his fist and he rolled over like a stone. Utterly bewildered, Zorzi stood still where he had stopped. Never in his life had he dreamed that two men could dispose of seven in something like half a minute with nothing but a stick for a weapon between them, but he had seen it with his eyes and he was not surprised when he felt himself lifted from his feet with his crutch beside him and carried along the footway at a sharp run in the direction of the glass house. His reason told him that he had been rescued and was being quickly conveyed to a place of safety, but he could not help distrusting the means that accomplished the end, for he had unconsciously watched the two men in what could hardly be called a fight, though he could not see their faces and a more murderous pair of ruffians he had never seen. Men not well used to such deeds could not have done them at all, thought Zorzi as he was born along. His breath almost shaken out of him by the strong man's movements. All was quiet as they passed the glass house and no one was looking out, for Giovanni's wife feared him far too much to seem to be spying upon his doings and the servants were discreet. Only Nella hiding behind the flowers in Marietta's window and supposing that Marietta was with her sister-in-law was watching the door of the glass house to see when Giovanni would come out. She now heard the steps of the two men running down the footway. The rescue had taken place too far away for her to hear anything but a splash in the canal. She saw that one of the men was carrying what seemed to be the body of a man. She instinctively crossed herself as they ran on towards the end of the canal and when she could see them no longer in the shadow, she drew back into the room, momentarily forgetting Giovanni and already running over in her head the wonderful conversation she was going to have with her mistress as soon as the young girl came back to her room. Piscuali meanwhile withdrew his feet from the old leather and slippers he wore and noiselessly stole down the corridor and along the garden path to find out what Giovanni was doing. When he came to the laboratory, he saw that the window was now shut as well as the door and that Giovanni had set the lamp on the floor behind the further end of the annealing oven. It's bright light shut upwards to the dark ceiling leaving the front of the laboratory almost in the dark. Piscuali listened and he heard the sharp tapping of a hammer on stone. He understood at once that Giovanni had shut himself in to search for something and would therefore be busy sometime. Without noise he crossed the garden to the entrance of the main furnace room and went into the passage. Come out quickly, he whispered, as his seamen's eyes made out Marietta's figure in a gloom that would have been total darkness to a landsman and he took hold of the girl's arm and led her away. Your brother is in the laboratory. He will not come out, he whispered. By this time Zorzi may be safe. Safe? She spoke the word aloud in her relief. Hush for heaven's sake, the door's open. You can get home now without being seen. Make no noise. She followed him quickly. They had to cross the patch of dim light in the garden and she glanced at the closed window of the laboratory. It had all happened as Zorzi had foreseen and Giovanni was already searching for the manuscript. The only thing she could not understand was that Zorzi should have escaped the archers. Even as she crossed the garden the two men were passing the door bearing Zorzi he knew not where but away from the nearest danger. A moment later she was on the footway hurrying towards the bridge. Pascuali stood watching her to be sure that she was safe and he glanced up at the windows too fearing lest someone might be looking out. But chance had saved Marietta this time. She carefully barred the side door after she had gone in and groped her way up the dark stairs. On the landing there was light from below and she paused for breath her bosom heaving as she leaned a moment on the balustrade. She passed one hand over her brows as if to bring herself back to present consciousness and then went quickly on. Safe, she repeated under her breath as she went. Safe, safe, safe. It was to give herself courage for she could hardly believe it though she knew that Pascuali would not deceive her and must have some strong good reason for what he said. There had not been time to question him. All he knew himself was that a man whose face he could not see had whispered to him that Zorzi was in no danger. But he had recognized the other man who had gone up the footway first in spite of his short cloak and hood and he felt well assured that Charolambos Aristarchi could throw the officer and his six men into the canal. Without anybody's help, if he chose the why the Greek Ruffian was suddenly inspired to interfere on Zorzi's behalf was a mystery past his comprehension. Marietta entered her room and Nala who had been reveling in the common conversation was suddenly very busy stirring the drink of lime flowers which Marietta had ordered. She was so sure that her mistress had been all the time in the house and so anxious not to have thought that she could possibly have been idle even for a moment that she looked intently into the cup and stirred the contents in a most conscientious manner. Marietta turned from her almost immediately and began to undo the braids of her hair that Nala might comb it out and clat it again for the night. Nala immediately began to talk and to tell all that she had seen from the window with many other things which she had not seen. But of course, you were looking out too, she said presently, they were all at the windows for some time. No, Marietta answered, I was not looking out. Well, it was tonight and not tomorrow, you see. Do you think the governor is stupid? If he had waited till tomorrow we should have told Zorzi. Poor Zorzi, I saw them taking him away loaded with chains. In chains, cried Marietta, starting painfully. I could not see the chains, continued Nala apologetically. But I am sure they were there. It was too dark to see. Poor Zorzi, poor Zorzi. By this time he is in the prison under the governor's house and he wishes that he had never been born. A little straw, a little water, that is all he has. Marietta moved into her chair as if something hurt her but she knew that it would be unwise to stop the woman's talk. Besides, Nala was evidently sorry for Zorzi, though she thought his arrest very interesting. She went on for a long time, combing more and more slowly after the manner of talkative maids when they fear that their work may be finished before their story. But for Pasquale's reassuring words, Marietta felt that she must have gone mad. Zorzi was safe somewhere and he was not in the governor's prison on the straw. She told herself so again and again as Nala went on. There is one thing I did not tell you, said the latter, with a sudden increase of vigor at the thought. I think you have told me enough, Nala, Marietta said weirdly. I am very tired. You cannot go to bed till I have pletted your hair, answered Nala mercilessly, but at the same time laying down the comb. Just before you came in, I was looking out of the window. It was just an accident for I was very busy with your things, of course. Well, as I was saying, in passing I happened to glance out of the window and I saw, guess what I saw, my pretty lady. Marietta trembled thinking that Nala had seen her and perhaps recognized her and was about to bring her girlest tale to a dramatic climax by telling her so. Perhaps you saw a woman, she suggested desperately. A woman indeed, cried Nala. It must be a nice woman who would be seen in the street at such a time of night and the governor's archers there, too. Woman, I would not look at such a woman, I tell you. No, what I saw was this, since you cannot guess. There came two big men running fast and they were carrying a dead body between them. Eh, they were at no good, I tell you. One could see that. Marietta could bear no more now. She bent her head and bit her finger to keep herself from crying out. If you will not be still, how in the world am I to plet your hair? Asked Nala quarrelously. Do it quickly, please. Marietta succeeded in saying, I am so very tired tonight. Her head bent still further forward. Indeed, said Nala, much annoyed that her tale should not have been received with more interest. You seem to be half asleep already. But Nala was much too truly attached to her mistress, not to feel some anxiety when she saw her white face and noticed how uncertainly she walked. Nala had her in bed at last, however, and gave her more of the soothing drink, smoothed the cool pillow under her head, looked around the room to see that all was in order before going away, then took the lamp and at last went out. Good night, my pretty lady, said Nala cheerfully from the door. Good night and pleasant dreams. She was gone at last and she would not come back before morning. Marietta sat up in bed in the dark and pressed her hands to her temples in utter despair. I shall go mad. I shall go mad. She whispered to herself. She remembered that she had left her light silk mantle in the laboratory on the great chair. End of chapter 17. Chapter 18 of Marietta, a maid of Venice by Francis Marion Crawford. The Sleeper Vox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 18. Aristotle's interference to rescue Zorzi had not been disinterested and so far as justice was concerned, he was quite ready to believe that the Dalmatian had done all the things of which he was accused. The fact was not of the slightest importance in the situation. It was much more to the point that in the complicated and dangerous plan which the Greek captain and Orissa were carrying out, Zorzi could be of use to them without his own knowledge. As has been told, the two had decided that he was in love with Marietta and she with him. The rest followed naturally. After meeting his father and telling him Giovanni's story, Giacopo Contarini had gone to the house of Unius Dei for an hour and during that time he had told Orissa everything according to his want. No sooner was he gone than Orissa made the accustomed signal and Aristotle appeared at her window for it was then already night. He judged rightly that there was no time to be lost and having stopped at his house to take his trusted man, the two rode themselves over to Murano and were watching the glass house from a distance fully half an hour before the archers appeared. The officer and his men came to their senses one by one, bruised and terrified. The man who had been thrown into the shallow canal got upon his feet standing up to his waist in the water sputtering and coughing from the ducking. Before he tried to gain the shore he crossed himself three times and repeated all the prayers he could remember in a great hurry for he was of opinion that Satan must still be in the neighborhood. It was not possible that any earthly being should have picked him up like a puppy and flung him fully 10 feet from the spot where he had been standing. He struggled to the bank, his feet sinking at each step in the slimy bottom and after that he was forced to wade some 30 yards to the stairs in front of San Piero before he could get out of the water a miserable object drenched from head to foot and coated with black mud from his knees down. Yet he was in a better case than his companions. They came to themselves slowly, the officer last of all, for Aristotle's blow under the jaw had nearly killed him whereas the other five men had only received stunning blows on different parts of their thick skulls. In half an hour they were all on their feet though some of them were very unsteady and in a four lawn train they made the best of their way back to the governor's palace. Their discomforture had been so sudden and complete that none of them had any idea as to the number of their assailants but most of them agreed that as they came within the site of the church Zorzi had slackened his pace and that an unholy fire had issued from his eyes, his mouth and his nostrils while he made strange signs in the air with his crutch and suddenly grew to a gigantic stature. The devils who were his companions had immediately appeared in great numbers and though the archers had fought against their supernatural adversaries with the courage of heroes they had been struck down senseless where they stood and when they had recovered their sight and their other understanding Zorzi had long since vanished to the kingdom of darkness which was his natural abode. Those things the officer told the governor on the next day and the men solemnly swore to them and they were all written down by the official scribe but the governor raised one eyebrow a little and the corners of his mouth twitched strangely though he made no remark upon what had been said. He remembered however that Giovanni had advised him to send a very strong force to arrest the lame young man from which he argued that Zorzi had powerful friends and that Giovanni knew it. He then visited the scene of the fight and saw that there were drops of blood on dry stones which was not astonishing and which gave no clue whatever to the identity of the rescuers. He pointed out quietly to his guide the man who had only received a ducking that there were no signs of fire on the pavement nor on the walls of the houses which was a strong argument against any theory of diabolical intervention and this the man was reluctantly obliged to admit. The strangest thing however was that the people who lived nearby seemed to have heard no noise though one old man who slept badly believed that he had heard the clatter of wood and iron falling together and then a splashing in the canal and indeed those were almost the only sounds that had disturbed the night. The whole affair was shrouded in mystery and the governor who knew that his men were to be trusted as far as their limited intelligence could go resolved to refer the matter to the council of 10 without delay. He therefore begged the archers hold their tongues and refused to talk of their misadventure. On that night Giovanni had suffered the greatest disappointment he remembered in his whole life. He had found without much trouble the stone that rang hollow but it had caused him great pains to lift it and the sweat ran down from his forehead and dropped upon the slab as he slowly got it up. His heart beat so that he fancied he could hear it both from the effort he made and from his intense excitement now that the thing he had most desired in the world was within his grasp. At last the big stone was raised upright and the light of the lamp that stood on the floor fell slanting across the dark hole. Giovanni brought the lamp to the edge and looked in. He could not see the box but a quantity of loose earth lay there under which it was doubtless buried. He knelt down and began to scoop the earth out using his two hands together. Then he thrust one hand in and felt about for the box. There was nothing there. He cleared out the cavity thoroughly and tried to loosen the soil at the bottom tearing his nails and his excitement. It must be there, he was sure. But it was not. When he realized that he had been tricked he collapsed kneeling as he was he sat on his heels and his crooked hands all dark with the dusty earth clutched at the stones beside him. He remained thus a long time staring at the empty hole. Then caution which was even stronger in his nature than greed brought him to himself. His thin face was gray and haggard as he carefully swept the earth back to its place removing all traces of what he had done. Then he knew how foolish he had been to let Zorzi know what he had partly heard and partly guessed. Of course as soon as Zorzi understood that Giovanni had found where the book was he had taken it out and put it away in a safer place to which Giovanni had no clue at all. Zorzi was diabolically clever and would not have been so foolish as to hide the treasure again in the same room or in the same way. It was probably in the garden now but it would take a strong man a day or two to dig up all the earth there to the depth at which the book must have been buried. Zorzi must have done the work at night after the furnaces were out and when there were no night boys to watch him. But then the boys had been feeding the fire in the laboratory until the previous night and it followed that he must have bailed the box this very evening. Giovanni got the slab back into its place without injuring it and he rubbed the edges with dust and swept the place with a broom as Zorzi had done twice already. Then he took the lamp and set it on the table before the window. The light fell on the gold piece that lay there. He took it, examined it carefully and slipped it into his wallet with a sort of mechanical chuckle. He glanced at the furnace next and recollected that the precious pieces Zorzi had made were in the annealing oven but that did not matter for the fires would now go out and the whole furnace would slowly cool so that the annealing would be very perfect. No one but he could enter the laboratory now that Zorzi was gone and he could take the pieces to his own house at his leisure. They were substantial proofs of Zorzi's wickedness in breaking the laws of Venice however and it would perhaps be wiser to leave them where they were until the governor should take cognizance of their existence. His first disappointment turned to redoubled hatred of the man who had caused it and whom it was safer to hate now than formerly since he was in the clutches of the law. Moreover, the defeat of Giovanni's hopes was by no means final after the first shock was over. He could make an excuse for having to garden dug over on pretense of improving it during his father's absence the more easily as he had learned that the garden had always been under Zorzi's care and must now be cultivated by someone else. Giovanni did not believe it possible that the precious box had been taken away altogether. It was therefore near and he could find it and there would be plenty of time before his father's return. Nevertheless, he looked about the laboratory and went into the small room where Zorzi had slept. There was water there and Spanish soap and he washed his hands carefully and brushed the dust from his coat and from the knees of his fine black hose. He knew that his patient wife would be waiting for him when he went back to the house. He searched Zorzi's room carefully but could find nothing, an earthen jar containing broken white glass stood in one corner, the narrow truckle bed with its single thin mattress and flattened pillow, all neat and trim, could not have hidden anything. On a line stretched across from wall to wall a few clothes were hanging, a pair of disconsolate brown hose, a waistband on the one side of the line hanging down to meet the feet on the other, two clean shirts and a Sunday doublet. On the wall a cap with a black eagle's feather hung by a nail, here and there on the white plaster Zorzi had roughly sketched with a bit of charcoal, some pieces of glass which he had thought of making, that was all. The floor was paved with bricks and a short examination showed that none of them had been moved. Giovanni turned back into the laboratory, stood a moment looking disconsolately at the big stone which had had cost him so much fruitless labor to move and then passed round by the other side of the furnace along the wall against which the bench and the easy chair were placed. His eye fell on Marietta's silk mantle which lay as when it had slipped down from her shoulders the skirts of it trailing on the floor. His brows contracted suddenly. He came nearer, felt the stuff and was sure that he recognized it. Then he looked at it as it lay. It had the unmistakable appearance of having been left as it had been by the person who had last sat in the chair. Two explanations of the presence of the mantle in the laboratory suggested themselves to him at once but the idea that Marietta could herself have been seated in the chair not long ago was so absurd that he at once adopted the other. Zorzi had stolen the mantle and used it for himself in the evening, confident that no one would see him. Tonight he had been surprised and had left it in the chair, another and perhaps a crowning proof of his atrocious crimes. Was he not a thief as well as a liar and an assassin? Giovanni knew well enough that the law would distinguish between stealing the art of glass making which was merely a civil offense, though a grave one and stealing a mantle of silk which he estimated to be worth at least two or three pieces of gold. That was theft and it was criminal and it was one of the many crimes which Zorzi had undoubtedly committed. The hangman would twist the rest out of him with the rack and the iron boot, thought Giovanni gleefully. The governor should see the mantle with his own eyes. Before he went away, he was careful to fasten the window securely inside and he locked the door after him, taking the key. He carried the brass lamp with him for the corridor was very dark and the night was quite still. Piscuali was seated on the edge of his box bed in his little lodge when Giovanni came to the door. He was more like a big and very ugly watchdog crouching in his kennel than anything else. Let no one try to go into the laboratory, said Giovanni, setting down the lamp. I have locked it myself. Piscuali snarled something incomprehensible by way of reply and rose to let Giovanni out. He noticed that the ladder had brought nothing but the lamp with him. When the door was open, Piscuali looked across at the house and saw that although there was still light in some of the other windows, Marietta's window was now dark. She was safe in bed for Giovanni's search had occupied more than an hour. Marietta might have breathed somewhat more freely if she had known that her brother did not even suspect her of having been to the laboratory, but the knowledge would have been more than balanced by the still greater anxiety if she had been told that Zorzi could be accused of a common theft. She sat up in the dark and pressed her throbbing temples with her hands. She thought, if she thought it all, of getting up again and going back to the glass house. Piscuali would let her in, of course, and she could get the mantle back. But there was Nella in the next room and Nella seemed to be always awake and would hear her stirring and come in to know if she wanted anything. Besides, she was in the dark. The night light burned always in Nella's room, a tiny wick supported by a bit of split cork in an earthen cup of oil. Most carefully tended for if it went out, it could only be lighted by going down to the hall where the large lamp burned all night. Marietta laid her head upon the pillow and tried to sleep, repeating over and over again to herself that Zorzi was safe. But for a long time, the thought of the mantle haunted her. Giovanni had found it, of course, and had brought it back with him. In the morning, he would send for her and demand an explanation, and she would have none to give. She would have to admit that she had been in the laboratory, it mattered little when, and that she had forgotten her mantle there. It would be useless to deny it. Then all at once, she looked the future in the face and she saw a little light. She would refuse to answer Giovanni's questions, and when her father came back, she would tell him everything. She would tell him bravely that nothing could make her marry Contorini, that she loved Zorzi and would marry him or no one. The mantle would probably be forgotten in the angry discussion that would follow. She hoped so, for even her father would never forgive her for having gone alone at night to find Zorzi. If he ever found it out, he would make her spend the rest of her life in a convent and it would break his heart that she should have thus cast all shame to the winds and brought disgrace on his old age. It never occurred to her that he could look upon it in any other way. She dreaded to think of the weeks that might pass before he returned. He had spoken of making a long journey and she knew that he had gone southward to Rimini to please the great Sigismando Malatesta, who had heard of Berviero's stained glass windows and mosaics in Florence and Naples and would not be outdone in the possession of beautiful things. But no one knew more than that. She was only sure that he would come back sometime before her intended marriage and there would still be time to break it off. The thought gave her some comfort and toward morning she fell into an uneasy sleep. Of all who had played a part in that eventful night, she slept the least, for she had the most at stake. Her fair name, Zorzi's safety, her whole future life were in the balance and she was sure that Giovanni would send for her in the morning. She awoke weary and unrefreshed when the sun was already high. She scarcely had energy to clap her hands for Nella and after the window was opened, she still lay listlessly on her pillow. The little woman looked at her rather anxiously but said nothing at first, setting the big dish with fruit and water on the table as usual and busying herself with her mistress's clothes. She opened the great carved wardrobe and she hung up some things and took out others in a methodical way. Where is your silk mantle? She asked suddenly as she missed the garment from its accustomed place. I do not know, answered Marietta quite naturally, first she had expected the question. Her reply was literally true since she had every reason for believing that Giovanni had brought it back with him in the night but could have no idea as to where he had put it. Nella began to search anxiously, turning over everything in the wardrobe and a few things that hung over the chairs. You could not have put it into the chest, could you? She asked, pausing at the foot of the bed and looking at Marietta. No, I'm sure I did not, answered the girl. I never do. Then it has been stolen, said Nella, her face darkened wrathfully. How is such a thing possible? Asked Marietta carelessly. It must be somewhere. This appeared to be certain but Nella denied it with energy. Her eyes fixed on Marietta almost as angrily as if she suspected her of having stolen her own mantle from herself. I tell you, it is not, she replied. I have looked everywhere, it has been stolen. Have you looked in your own room? Inquired Marietta indifferently and turning her head on her pillow as if she were tired of meeting Nella's eyes as indeed she was. My own room indeed cried the maid indignantly as if I did not know what is in my own room as if your new silk mantle could hide itself amongst my four rags. Why Nella and her conch to this day use the number four in contempt rather than three or five is a mystery of what one might call the psychical side of the Italian language. Marietta did not answer. It has been stolen, Nella repeated with a gloomy emphasis. I trust no one in this house since your brother and his wife had been here with their servants. My sister-in-law was obliged to bring one of her women, objected Marietta. She need not have brought that sour-faced shrew who walks about the house all day, repeating the rosary and poking her long nose into what does not belong to her. But I'm not afraid of senior Giovanni. I will tell the housekeeper that your mantle has been stolen and all the woman's belonging shall be searched before a dinner and we shall find the mantle in that evil person's box. You must do nothing of the sort, answered Marietta in a tone of authority. She sat up in bed at last and threw the thick braid of her hair behind her as every woman does when her hair is down as if she meant to assert herself. Ah, cried Nella mockingly. I see that you are content to lose your best things without looking for them. Then let us throw everything out of the window at once. We shall make a fine figure. I will speak to my brother about it myself, said Marietta. Indeed, she thought it extremely likely that Giovanni would oblige her to speak of it within an hour. You will only make trouble among the servants, she added. Oh, as you please, snorted Nella discontentedly. I only tell you I know who took it. That is all. Please do remember that I said so when it is too late. And as for trouble, there is not one of us in the house who would not like to be searched for the sake of sending your sister-in-law's maid to prison where she belongs. Nella, cried Marietta. I do not care a straw about the mantle. I want you to do something very important. I am sure that Zorzi has been arrested unjustly and I do not believe that the governor will keep him in prison. Can you not get your friend the gondolier to go to the governor's palace before midday and ask whether Zorzi is to be let out? Of course I can. By and by, I will call him. He is busy cleaning the gondola now. Marietta had spoken quietly, though she had expected that her voice would shake, and she had been almost sure that she was going to blush. But nothing so dreadful happened, though she had prepared for it, by turning her back on Nella. She sat on the edge of the bed, slowly feeling her way into her little yellow leather slippers. It was a relief to know that even now she could speak of Zorzi without giving any outward sign of emotion, and she felt a little encouraged as she began the dreaded day. She took a long time in dressing, for she expected at every moment that her sister-in-law's maid would knock at the door with a message from Giovanni, bidding her come to him before he went out. But no one came, though it was already past the hour at which he usually left the house. All at once she heard his unmistakable voice through the open window, and on looking out through the flowers, she saw him standing at the open door of the glass house, talking with the porter, or rather giving instructions about the garden which Pasquale received in surly silence. Marietta listened in surprise. It seemed impossible that Giovanni should not take her to task at once if he had found the mantle. He was not the kind of man to put off accusing anyone when he had proof of guilt and was sure that the law was on his side, and Marietta felt sure that the evidence against her was overwhelming, for she had yet to learn what amazing things can be done with impunity by people who have the reputation of perfect innocence. Giovanni was telling Pasquale in a tone which everyone might hear, that he had sent for a gardener who would soon come with a lad to help him, that the two must be admitted at once, and that he himself would be within to receive them, but that no one else was to be allowed to go in as he should be extremely busy all morning. Having said these things three or four times over in order to impress them upon Pasquale's mind, he went in. The porter looked up at Marietta's window a moment and then followed him and shut the door. It was clear that Giovanni had no intention of speaking to his sister before the midday meal. She breathed more freely since she was to have a respite of several hours. When she was dressed, Nella called the gondolier from her own window and met him in the passage when he came up. He had once promised to make inquiries about Zorzi and went off to the palace to find his friend, the crony, the governor's head boatman. The latter, it is needless to say, knew every detail of the supernatural rescue from the archers who could talk of nothing else in spite of the governor's prohibition. They sat in a row on the stone bench within the main entrance, a rueful crew, their heads bound up with a pleasing variety of bandages. In an hour the gondolier returned, laden with the wonderful story which Nella was the first but not the last to hear from him. Her brown eyes seemed to be starting from her head when she came back to tell it to her mistress. Marietta listened with a beefing heart, though Nella began at once by saying that Zorzi had mysteriously disappeared and was certainly not in prison. When all was told, she drew a long breath and wished that she could be alone to think over what she had heard. But Nella's imagination was aroused and she was prepared to discuss the affair all the morning. The details of it had become more and more numerous and circumstantial as the men with the bandaged heads recalled what they had seen and heard. The devils that had delivered Zorzi all had blue noses, brass teeth, and fiery tails. A peculiarity of theirs was that they had six fingers with six iron claws on each hand and that all their hooves were red hot. As to their numbers, they might be roughly estimated at a thousand or so and their roaring was like the howling of the south wind and the breaking of the sea on the Lido in the winter storm. It was horrible to hear and would alone have put all the armies of the Republic in ignominious flight. Nella thought these things very interesting. She wished that she might talk with one of the men who had seen a real devil. I do not believe a word of all that nonsense, said Marietta. The most important thing is that Zorzi got away from them and is not in prison. If he escaped by selling his soul to the fiends, said Nella, shaking her head, it is a very evil thing. Her mistresses disbelief in the blue noses and the fiery tails was disconcerting and had a chilling effect on Nella's talkative mood. The gondolier had crossed the bridge to tell his story to Piscuali whose view of the case seemed to differ from Nella's. He listened with a proving interest but without comment until the gondolier had finished. I could tell you many such stories, he said. Things of this kind often happen at sea. Really, exclaimed the gondolier who was only a boatman and regarded real sailors with a sort of professional reverence. Yes, answered Piscuali, especially on Sundays. You must know that when the priests are all saying mass and the people are all praying, the devils care not to bear it and are driven out to sea for the day. Very strange things happen then, I assure you. Someday I will tell you how a boatswain of a ship I once sailed in roved the end of the devil's tail through a link in the chain, made a Flemish knot at the end to stop it and let go the anchor. So the devil went to the bottom by the run. We unshackled the chain and wore the ship to the wind and after that we had fair weather to the end of the voyage. It happened on a Sunday. Marvelous, cried the gondolier. I should like to hear the whole story, but if you will allow me, I will go in and tell senior Giovanni what has happened for he does not yet know. Piscuali grinned as he stood in the doorway. He has given strict orders that no one is to be admitted this morning as he is very busy. But this is a very important matter, argued the gondolier who wished to have the pleasure of telling the tale. I cannot help it, answered Piscuali. Those are his orders and I must obey them. You know what his temper is when he is not pleased. Just then a skiff came up the canal at a great rate so that the quick strokes of the ore attracted the men's attention. They saw that the boat was one of those that could be hired everywhere in Venice. The oresmen backed water with a strong stroke and brought two at the steps before the glass house. Are you Messer Angelo Beraviero's gondolier? He inquired civilly. Yes, answered the man addressed. I am the head gondolier at your service. Thank you replied the boatman. I am to tell you that Messer Angelo has just arrived in Venice by sea from Rimini on board the Santa Lucia and Neapolitan Galliott now at anchor in Guideca. He desires you to bring his gondola at once to fetch him and I am to bring over his baggage in my skiff. The gondolier uttered an exclamation of surprise and then turned to Piscuali. I go, he said. Will you tell Signora Giovanni that his father is coming home? Piscuali grinned again. He was rarely in such a pleasant humor. Certainly not, he answered. The Signora Giovanni is very busy and has given strict orders that he is not to be disturbed on any account. That is your affair, said the gondolier, hurrying away. End of chapter 18. Chapter 19 of Marietta, a maid of Venice by Francis Marion Crawford. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 19. A little more than an hour later, the gondola came back and stopped along the steps of the house. The gondolier had made such haste to obey the summons that he had not thought of going into the house to give the servants warning and as most of the shutters were already drawn together against the heat, no one had been looking out when he went away. He had asked Piscuali to tell the young master and that was all that could be expected of him. There was therefore a great surprise in the household when Angelo Berviero went up the steps of his house and his own astonishment that no one should be there to receive him was almost as great. The gondolier explained and told him what Piscuali had said. It was enough to rouse the old man's suspicions at once. He had left Zorzi in charge of the laboratory in joining upon him not to encourage Giovanni to go there but now Giovanni was shut up there, presumably with Zorzi and had given orders that he was not to be disturbed. The gondolier had not dared to say anything about the Dalmatian's arrest and Berviero was quite ignorant of all that had happened. He was not a man who hesitated when his suspicions or his temper were at work and now he turned without even entering his home and crossed the bridge to the glass house. Piscuali was looking through the grating and saw him coming and was ready to receive him at the open door. For the third time on that morning he grinned from ear to ear. Berviero was pleased by the silent welcome of his old entrusted servant. You seem glad to see me again, he said, laying his hand kindly on the old porter's arm as he passed in. Others will be glad too, was the answer. As he went down the corridor, Berviero heard the sound of spades striking into the earth and shoveling it away. The gardener and his lad had been at work nearly two hours. They had turned up most of the earth in the little flower beds to a depth of two or three feet during that time while Giovanni set motionless under the plain tree watching every movement of their spades. He rose nervously when he heard footsteps in the corridor for he did not wish anyone to find him seated there, apparently watching a most commonplace operation with profound interest. He had made a step toward the door of the laboratory when he saw his father emerge from the dark passage. He was a coward and he trembled from head to foot his teeth chattered in his head and the cold sweat moistened his forehead in an instant. The old man stood still four or five paces from him and looked from him to the men who had been digging. On seeing the master, they stopped working and pulled off their knitted caps. As a further sign of respect, they wiped their dripping faces with their shirt sleeves. What are you doing here? Asked Berviero in a tone of displeasure. The garden was very well as it was. I thought, stammered Giovanni, that it might be better to dig it. It would not be better, answered the old man. You may go, he added, speaking to the men who were glad enough to be dismissed. Berviero passed his son without further words and tried the door of the laboratory but found it locked. What is this? He asked angrily, where is Zorzi? I told him not to leave you here alone. You had great confidence in him, answered Giovanni, recovering himself a little. He is in prison. He took the key from his wallet and thrust it into the lock as he spoke. In prison, cried Berviero in a loud voice. What do you mean? Giovanni held the door open for him. I will tell you all about Zorzi if you will come in, he said. Berviero entered, stood still a moment and looked about. Everything was as Zorzi had left it but the glassmaker's ear missed the low roar of the furnace. Instinctively he made a step towards the ladder extending his hand to see whether it was already cold. But at that moment he caught sight of the silk mantle in the chair. He glanced quickly at his son. Has Marietta been here with you this morning? He asked sharply. Oh no, answered Giovanni contentiously. Zorzi stole that thing and had not time to hide it when they arrested him last night. I left it just where it was that the governor might see it. Berviero's face changed slowly. His fiery brown eyes began to show a dangerous light and he stroked his long beard quickly twisting it a little each time. If you say that Zorzi stole Marietta's silk mantle, he said slowly, you are either a fool or a liar. You are my father, answered Giovanni in some perturbation. I cannot answer you. Berviero was silent for a long time. He took the mantle from the chair, examined it and assured himself that it was Marietta's own and no other. Then he carefully folded it up and laid it on the bench. His brows were contracted as if he were in great pain and his face was pale but his eyes were still angry. Giovanni knew the signs of his father's wrath and dared not speak to him yet. Is this the evidence on which you have had my man arrested? Asked Berviero, sitting down in the big chair and fixing his gaze on his son. By no means answered Giovanni with all the coolness he could command. If it pleases you to hear my story from the beginning, I will tell you all. If you do not hear all, you cannot possibly understand. I am listening, said old Berviero, leaning back and laying his hands on the broad wooden arms of the chair. I shall tell you everything exactly as it happened, said Giovanni, and I swear that it is all true. Berviero reflected that in his experience this was usually the way in which liars introduced their accounts of events. For truth is like a work of genius. It carries conviction with it at once and therefore needs no recommendation nor other artificial support. After you left, Giovanni continued. I came here one morning out of pure friendliness to Zorzi and as we talked, I chanced to look at those things on the shelf. When I admired them, he admitted rather reluctantly that he had made them and other things which you have in your house. Berviero gravely nodded his assent to the statement. I asked him to make me something, and Giovanni went on to say, but he told me that he had no white glass in the furnace and that what was there was the result of your experiments. Again, Berviero bent his head. So I asked him to bring his blowpipe to the main furnace room where they were still working at that time and we went there together. He had once made a very beautiful piece and was just finishing it when a bad accident happened to him. Another man let his blowpipe fly from his hand and it fell upon Zorzi's foot with a large lump of hot glass. Berviero looked keenly at Giovanni. You know as well as I that it could not have been an accident, he said. It was done out of spite. That may be, replied Giovanni, for the men do not like him as you know, but Zorzi accepted it as being an accident and said so. He was badly hurt and is still lame. Nella dressed the wound and then Marietta came with her. Are you sure Marietta came here? asked Berviero, growing paler. Quite sure. They were on their way here together early in the morning when I stopped them and asked Marietta where she was going and she boldly said she was going to see Zorzi. I could not prevent her and I saw them both go in. Do you mean to say that although Zorzi was so badly hurt, you did not have him brought to the house? Of course I proposed that at once Giovanni answered but he said he would not leave the furnace. Mm, that was like him, said old Berviero. He knew what he was doing. It was on that same day that a night boy told me how he had seen you and Zorzi burying something in the laboratory the night before you left. Berviero started and leaned forward. Giovanni smiled thoughtfully for he saw how his father was moved and he knew that the strongest part of his story was yet untold. It would have been better to leave Paolo Godi's manuscript with me, he said, in a tone of sympathy. I grew anxious for its safety as soon as I knew that Zorzi had charge of it. Yesterday morning I came in again. Zorzi was sitting on the working stool finishing a beautiful beaker of white glass. White glass, repeated Berviero, in evidence surprise. White glass, here. Yes, answered Giovanni, enjoying his triumph. I pointed out that when I had last come there had been no white glass in the furnace. He answered that as one of the experience had produced a beautiful red color, which he thought must be valuable, he had removed the crucible. He also showed me a specimen of it. Is it here, asked Berviero anxiously, where is it? Giovanni took the specimen from the table for Zorzi had left it lying there and he handed it to his father. The latter took it, held it up to the light and uttered an exclamation of astonishment and anger. There is only one way of making that, he said without hesitation. Yes, Giovanni answered coolly. I supposed it was made according to one of your secrets. A quick look was the only reply to this speech. Giovanni continued. I asked him to sell me the piece of glass he had been making when he came in and at first he pretended that he was not sure whether you would allow it. But at last he took a piece of gold for it and I was to have it as soon as it was annealed. When you see it you will understand why I was so anxious to get it. Where is it, asked the old man, show it to me. Giovanni went to the other end of the annealing oven and came back a moment later carrying the iron tray on which stood the pieces Zorzi had made on the previous morning. Beraviero looked at them critically, tried their weight and noticed their transparency. That is not my glass, he said in a tone of decision. No, said Giovanni. I saw that it was not your ordinary glass. It seems much better. Now Zorzi must have made it in a new crucible and if he did he made it with some secret of yours for it is impossible that he should have discovered it himself. I said to myself that if he had made it and the red glass there he must have opened the book which you had buried together in this room and that there was only one way of hindering him from learning everything in it and ruining you and us by setting up a furnace of his own. Beraviero was looking hard at Giovanni but he was now thoroughly alarmed for the safety of his treasured manuscript and listened with attention and without hostility. The proofs seemed at first sight very strong and after all Zorzi was only a Dalmatian and a foreigner who might have yielded to temptation. What did you do? Ask Beraviero. Giovanni told him the truth, how he had written a letter to the governor and had seen him in person as well as Giacopo Condorini. Of course Giovanni concluded, you know best. If you find the book as you and he hid it together he must have learned your secrets in some other way. We can easily see, answered old Beraviero, rising quickly. Come here, get the crowbar from the corner and help me lift the stone. Giovanni took pains to look for the crowbar exactly where it was not for he thought that this would divert any lingering suspicion from himself but Beraviero was only annoyed. There, there, he cried pointing. It's in that corner, quickly. It would be like the clever scoundrel to have copied what he wanted and then to have put the book back into its hiding place, said Giovanni, pausing. Do not waste words, my son, cried Beraviero in the greatest anxiety. Here, this is the stone. Get the crowbar in at the side. So now we will both heave. There, wedge the stone up with that bit of wood. That will do. Now let us both get our hands under it and lift it up. It was done while he was speaking. A moment later, Giovanni had scooped out the loose earth and Beraviero was staring down into the empty hole just as Giovanni had done on the previous night. Giovanni was almost consoled for his own disappointment when he saw his father's face. It is certainly gone, he said. You did not bury it deeper, did you? The soil is hard below. No, no. It is gone, answered the old man in a dull voice. Zorzi has got it. You see, said Giovanni mercilessly, when I saw the red and white glass which he had made himself, I was so sure of the truth that I acted quickly. I saw him arrested and I do not think he could have had anything like a book with him for he was in his doublet and hose. And as he is safe in prison now, he can be made to tell where he has put the thing. How big was it? It was in an iron box. It was heavy. Viravio spoke in low tones, overcome by his loss and by the apparent certainty that Zorzi had betrayed him. You see why I should naturally suspect him of having stolen the mantle, observed Giovanni, a man who would betray your confidence in such a way would do anything. Yes, yes, answered the old master vaguely. Yes, I must go see him in prison. I was kind to him and perhaps he may confess everything to me. We might ask Marietta when she first missed her mantle, suggested Giovanni. She must have noticed that it was gone. She will not remember, answered Viravio. Let us go to the governor's house at once. There is just time before midday. We can speak to Marietta at dinner. But you must be tired after your journey, objected Giovanni with unusual concern for his father's comfort. No, I slipped well on the ship. I have done nothing to tire me. The gondola may be still there. Tell Pasquale to call it over and we will go directly. Go on, I will follow you. Giovanni went forward and Viravio stayed a moment to look again at the beautiful objects of white glass, examining them carefully one by one. The workmanship was marvelous and he could not help admiring it, but it was the glass itself that disturbed him. It was like his own, but it was better and the knowledge of its composition and treatment was a fortune. Then too, the secret of dropping a piece of copper into a certain mixture in order to produce a particularly beautiful red color was in the book and the color could not be mistaken and was not the one which Viravio had been trying to produce. He shook his head sadly as he went out and locked the door behind him, convinced against his will that he had been betrayed by the man whom he had most trusted in the world. Pasquale watched the two, father and son, as they got into the gondola. Old Viravio had not even looked at him as he came out and it was not the porter's business to volunteer information nor the gondoliers either. But when the latter was ordered to row to the governor's house as fast as possible, he turned his head and looked at Pasquale, who slowly nodded his ugly head before going in again. On reaching their destination, they were received at once and the governor told them what had happened in as few words as possible. Nothing could exceed Old Viravio's consternation and his son's disappointment. Zorzi had been rescued at the corner of San Piero's church by men who had knocked senseless the officer and the six archers. No one knew who these men were nor their numbers, but they were clearly friends of Zorzi's who had known that he was to be arrested. Accomplices suggested Giovanni. He has stolen a valuable book of my father's containing secrets for making the finest glass. By this time, he is on his way to Milan or Florence. I dare say, said the governor, these foreigners are capable of anything. I had trusted him so confidently, said Viravio, too much overcome to be angry. Exactly, answered the governor, you trusted him too much. I always thought so, put in Giovanni wisely. There is nothing to be said, resumed Viravio. I do not wish to believe it of him, but I cannot deny the evidence of my own senses. I have already sent a report to the council of 10, said the governor, the most careful search will be made in Venice for Zorzi and his companions and if they are found, they will suffer for what they have done. I hope so, replied Giovanni hardly. I remember that you recommended me to send a strong force, observed the governor. Perhaps you knew that a rescue was intended or you were aware that the fellow had daring accomplices. I only suspected it, Giovanni answered. I knew nothing, he was always alone. He has hardly been out of my sight for five years, said old Viravio sadly. He and his son took their leave, the governor promising to keep them informed as to the progress of the search. At present nothing more could be done for Zorzi had disappeared altogether and old Viravio was much inclined to share his son's opinion that the fugitive was already on his way to Milan or Florence where the possession of the secrets would ensure him a large fortune, very greatly to the injury of Viravio and all the glass workers of Murano. The two men returned to the house in silence for the elder was too much absorbed by his own thoughts to speak and Giovanni was too wise to interrupt reflections which undoubtedly tended to Zorzi's destruction. Marietta was awaiting her father's return with much anxiety for everyone knew that the master had gone first to the laboratory and then to the governor's palace with Giovanni so that the two men must have been talking together a long time. Marietta waited with her sister-in-law in the lower hall slowly walking up and down. When her father came up the low steps at last she went forward to meet him and at glance told her that he was in the most extreme anxiety. She took his hand and kissed it in the customary manner and he bent a little and touched her forehead with his lips. Then to her surprise he put one hand under her chin and laid the other on top of her head and with gentle force made her look at him. Giovanni's wife was there and most of the servants were standing near the foot of the staircase to welcome their master. Beroviaro said nothing as he gazed into his daughter's eyes. They met his own fearlessly enough and she opened them wide as she rarely did as if to show that she had nothing to conceal. But while he looked at her the blood rose blushing to her cheeks telling that there was something to hide after all and that she would not turn her eyes from his they sparkled a little with vexation. Beroviaro did not speak but he let her go and went on towards the stairs bending his head graciously to the other persons who were assembled to greet him. He was a man of strong character and of much natural dignity far too proud to break down under a great loss or a bitter disappointment and at dinner he sat at the head of the table and spoke affably of the journey he had made explaining his unexpectedly early return by the fact that the lord of Rimini had at once approved his designs and accepted his terms. Occasionally Giovanni asked a respectful question but neither his wife nor Marietta said much during the meal. Zorzi was not mentioned. You are welcome at my house my son Beroviaro said when they finished but I suppose that you will go back to your own this evening. This was of course a command and Marietta thought it a good omen. She had felt sure when her father made her look at him that Giovanni had spoken to him of the mantle but in what way she could not tell. Perhaps though it seemed incredible he would not make such a serious case of it as she had expected. He said nothing when he withdrew to rest during the hot hours of the afternoon and she went to her own room as everyone did at that time. Little as she had slept that night she felt that it would be intolerable to lie down so she took her little basket of beads and tried to work. Nella was dozing in the next room. From time to time the young girl leaned back in her chair with half closed eyes and a look of pain came over her face. Then with an effort she took her needle once more and picked out the beads, threading them one by one in a regular succession of colors. She was sure that if Zorzi were near he would have already found some means of informing her that he was really in safety. He must have friends of whom she knew nothing and who had rescued him at great risk. He would surely trust one of them to take a message or to make a signal which she could understand. She sat near the window and the shutters were half closed so as to leave a space through which she could look out. From time to time she glanced at the white line of the footway opposite over which the shadow of the glass house was beginning to creep as the sun moved westward but no one appeared. When it was cool, Pasquale would probably come out and look three times up and down the canal as he always did. Giovanni would not go to the laboratory again. Perhaps her father would go when he was rested. Then if she chose she would take Nella and join him and since there was to be an explanation with him she would rather have it in the laboratory where they would be quite alone. She had fully made up her mind to tell him at the very first interview that she would not marry Giacopo Contorini under any circumstances but she had not decided whether she would add that she loved Zorzi. She hated anything like cowardice and it would be cowardly to put off telling him the truth any longer but what concerns Zorzi was her secret and she had a right to choose the most favorable moment for making a revelation on which her whole life and Zorzi's also must immediately depend. She felt weak and tired for she had eaten little and hardly slept at all but her determination was strong and she would act upon it. Occasionally she rose and moved wearily about the room looking out between the shutters and then sat down again. She was in one of those moments of life in which all existence seems drawn out to an endless quivering thread, a single throbbing nerve as stretched to its utmost point of strain. The silence was broken by a man's footstep in the passage coming towards her door. A moment later she heard her father's voice asking if he might come in. Almost at the same time she opened and Berviero stood on the threshold. Nella had heard him speaking too and she started up wide awake in an instant and came in to see if she were needed. Will you go with me to the laboratory my dear? Ask the old man quietly. She answered gravely that she would. There was no gladness in her tone but no reluctance. She was facing the most difficult situation she had ever known and perhaps the most dangerous. Very well said her father. Let Nella give you your silk mantle and we will go at once. Before Marietta could have answered even if she had known what to say Nella had begun to tell her tale of woe. The mantle was stolen. The sour face drew of a maid who belonged to senior Giovanni's wife had stolen it. The house ought to be searched at once and so much more to the same effect that Nella was obliged to pause for breath. When did you miss it? Asked Beroviaro, looking hard at the serving woman. This morning, sir, it was here last night, I am quite sure. The truthful little brown eyes did not waver. And it cannot have been anyone else, continued Nella. This is a very evil person, sir. And she sometimes comes here with a message or making believe that she is helping me as if I needed help indeed. Do not accuse people of stealing when you have no evidence against them. Answered Beroviaro, somewhat sternly. Give your mistress something else to throw over her. Give me the green silk cloak, said Marietta, who was anxious not to be questioned about the mantle. It has a spot in one corner, Nella answered discontentedly as she went to the wardrobe. The spot turned out to be no bigger than the head of a pin. A moment later, Marietta and her father were going downstairs. At the door of the glass house, Pasqually eyed them with approbation and Marietta smiled and said a word to him as she passed. It seems strange that she should have trusted the ugly old man with a secret which she dared not tell her own father. Beroviaro did not speak as she followed him down the path and stood waiting while he unlocked the door. Then they both entered and he laid his cap upon the table. There is your mantle, my dear, he said quietly and he pointed to it neatly folded and lying on the bench. Marietta started for she was taken unawares. While in her own room, her father had spoken so naturally as to make it seem quite possible that Giovanni had said nothing about it to him, yet he had known exactly where it was. He was facing her now as he spoke. It was found here last night after Zorzi had been arrested, said Beroviaro. Do you understand? Yes, Marietta answered gathering all her courage. We will talk about it by and by. First I have something to say to you which is much more important than anything concerning the mantle. Will you sit down, father and hear me as patiently as you can? I am learning patience today, said Beroviaro, sitting down in his chair. I am learning also the meaning of such words as ingratitude, betrayal and treachery which were never before spoken in my house. He sighed and leaned back looking at the wall. Marietta dropped her cloak beside the mantle on the bench and began to walk up and down before him trying to begin her speech but she could not find any words. Speak, child, said the father. What has happened? It seems to me that I could bear almost anything now. She stood still a moment before him, still hesitating. She now saw that he had suffered more than she had suspected, doubtless owing to Zorzi's arrest and disappearance and she knew that what she meant to tell him would hurt him much more. Father, she began at last with great effort. I know that what I'm going to say will displease you very, very much. I am sorry, I wish it were not. Suddenly her sad speech broke down. She fell on her knees and took his hands, looking up beseechingly to his face. Forgive me, she cried. Oh, for God's sake, forgive me. I cannot marry Gicopo Contorini. Berviero had not expected that. He sat upright in the chair in his amazement and instinctively tried to draw his hands out of hers but she held him fast, gazing earnestly up at him. His look was not angry nor cold nor did he even seem hurt. He was simply astonished beyond all measure by the enormous audacity of what she said and yet he did not connect it with anything else. I think you must be mad. That was all he could find to say. End of chapter 19.