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"I am glad you told me about that glass-blower," he said suddenly. "I have met him and talked with him, and I may meet him again. He is old Beroviero's chief assistant. I fancy he is in love with the daughter." "In love with the girl whom Contarini is to marry?" asked Arisa, suddenly opening her eyes. "Yes.
He disliked Zorzi, but during the morning he had become convinced that the gifted young artist was a valuable piece of property, and not, as he had supposed, a clever flatterer who had wormed himself into old Beroviero's confidence. A man who could make such things was worth much money to his master.
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 Beroviero's consternation, and his son's disappointment.
The gondola was therefore a great convenience, besides being a notable economy, and old Francesco Sansovino says that in his day, which was within a lifetime of Angelo Beroviero's, there were nine or ten thousand gondolas in Venice. But at first they had not the high peaked stem of iron, and stem and stern were made almost alike, as in the Venetian boats and skiffs of our own time.
The boat shot forward at a good rate under the bending oar, and in twenty minutes Aristarchi was at the entrance to the canal of San Piero and within sight of Beroviero's house. "Easy there," said the Greek, holding up his hand. "Do you know Murano well, my man?" "As well as Venice, sir." "Whose house is that, which has the upper story built on columns over the footway?"
"I will go to the master and ask redress. I will sit down before the door and wait for him." "Do what you please," returned the others. "We will go home." "You have no spirit of honour in you," said the tall boy contemptuously. He turned his back on them in disdain, crossed the bridge and sat down under the covered way in front of Beroviero's house.
They all pushed and jostled each other to see Beroviero's friends and relations, as they emerged from beneath the black 'felse' of their gondolas to enter the house.
Beroviero's look of interest gradually turned into an expression of disappointment. "Another failure," he said, with a resignation which no one would have expected in such a man. His practised eyes had guessed the exact hue of the glass, while it still lay on the iron, half cooled and far too hot to touch.
He was firmly convinced that if he asked Zorzi any more direct question, the answer would be a falsehood, and he applauded himself for stopping at the point he had reached in his inquiries. For he was an experienced glass-maker and was perfectly sure that the phial was not made from Beroviero's ordinary glass.
I left it just where it was, that the Governor might see it." Beroviero'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.
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