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Updated: May 15, 2025
Zorzi was sitting on the working-stool, finishing a beautiful beaker of white glass." "White glass?" repeated Beroviero in evident 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.
For, though I must for once contradict the testimony of a wise woman, and tell you that nothing can render a man absolutely safe but the protection of Heaven, yet, if a hair from the head of Sir William Wallace would please you, and a glance from his eye gratify your mother, both shall be satisfied," and lifting up the old woman's shears, which lay on a working-stool before him, he cut off a golden lock from the middle of his head and put it into the hand of Jeannie.
One of them was finishing a drinking-glass, rolling the pontil on the arms of the working-stool; another, a beetle-browed fellow, swung his long blow-pipe with its lump of glowing glass in a full circle, high in air and almost to touch the ground; another was at a 'bocca' in the low glare; all were busy, and the air was very hot and close. The men looked grim and ill-tempered.
Without a word Zorzi took his place. While he warmed the end of his blow-pipe at the 'bocca' he looked to right and left to see where the working-stool and marver were placed, and to be sure that the few tools he needed were at hand, the pontil, the 'procello, that is, the small elastic tongs for modelling and the shears.
Let's have some tea?" Beth laughed at the other, until Vina moved into the circle of light, and her face showed paler and more transparent than ever. She sat down upon Beth's working-stool, elbows on knees, and stared trance-like at her friend. "Why, you dear little dreamer, what's the matter?" Beth asked quickly. "Who is the destructive he?"
Caleb and Bertha had returned some time before, and Caleb had sat down to his afternoon's work. But he couldn't settle to it, poor fellow, being anxious and remorseful for his daughter. It was touching to see him sitting idle on his working-stool, regarding her so wistfully, and always saying in his face, 'Have I deceived her from her cradle, but to break her heart!
It was not until Caleb had been occupied some time in yoking a team of horses to a waggon by the summary process of nailing the harness to the vital parts of their bodies, that she drew near to his working-stool, and, sitting down beside him, said: "Father, I am lonely in the dark. I want my eyes, my patient, willing eyes." "Here they are," said Caleb. "Always ready.
It was not until Caleb had been occupied, some time, in yoking a team of horses to a waggon by the summary process of nailing the harness to the vital parts of their bodies, that she drew near to his working-stool, and sitting down beside him, said: 'Father, I am lonely in the dark. I want my eyes, my patient, willing eyes. 'Here they are, said Caleb. 'Always ready.
"For instance," continued Marietta, watching him, "she knows that last night some one unlocked the chain that moors the skiff, and rowed away towards Venice." To her surprise Zorzi showed no embarrassment. He had made up the fire and now sat down at a little distance, on one of the flat arms of the glass-blower's working-stool. His face was pale and quiet, and his eyes did not avoid hers.
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