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Updated: June 23, 2025
"Yes, I would," answered Beroviero thoughtfully. "The book is there," said Marietta. She pointed to the big earthen jar that contained the broken glass, and her father's eyes followed her land. "It is for Zorzi's sake that I tell you," she continued. "The book is buried deep down amongst the broken bits. It will take a long time to get it out. Shall I call Pasquale to help us?"
It would be easy to say that he was an old friend of Jacopo Contarini and wished to make the acquaintance of Marietta's father before the wedding. He would probably have an opportunity of speaking to Zorzi without showing that he already knew him, and he trusted to Zorzi's discretion to conceal the fact, for he was a good judge of men.
He could make an excuse for having the garden dug over, on pretence 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 some one else. Giovanni did not believe it possible that the precious box had been taken away altogether.
She hated anything like cowardice, and it would be cowardly to put off telling the truth any longer; but what concerned Zorzi was her secret, and she had a right to choose the most favourable moment for making a revelation on which her whole life, and Zorzi's also, must immediately depend.
Yet, though they told each other things which seemed foolish to him, he said nothing on that first night, and all the time he watched Contarini very closely, and listened with especial attention to what he said, trying to discern his character and judge his understanding. The splendid young Venetian was not displeased by Zorzi's attitude towards him, and presently came and sat beside him.
"No," she answered, coldly enough. "I am not angry I am only sorry." "But I am glad that I would not answer your question," returned Zorzi. "I doubt whether you had any answer to give," retorted Marietta with a touch of scorn. Zorzi's brows contracted sharply and he made a movement to go on. So her proffered friendship was worth no more than that, he thought.
They had been ready enough to stand by Venier against him in Zorzi's defence, but unless Venier led the way, there was not one of them who would think of opposing him, or taking him to task for what was very like a betrayal. Venier returned his greeting with some coldness, which Contarini hardly noticed, as his reception by the others had been sufficiently flattering. Then they began to play.
Nella had finished collecting her belongings. Marietta saw that she could not stay any longer at present, and she went once more to Zorzi's side. "Let Pasquale take care of you to-day," she said. "I will come and see how you are to-morrow morning." "I thank you," he answered. "I thank you with all my heart. I have no words to tell you how much." "You need none," said she quietly.
"From Angelo," whispered Zorzi, so softly that Contarini only heard the last word. The door was now shut as noiselessly as before, but not by Contarini himself. He still kept his hold on Zorzi's arm. "The token," he whispered impatiently. Zorzi pulled the little leathern bag out of his doublet, slipped the string over his head and thrust the token into Contarini's hand.
It slipped from his hand, and the hot mass, with the full weight of the heavy iron behind it, landed on Zorzi's right foot, three paces away, with frightful force. He uttered a sharp cry of surprise and pain. The lovely vessel he had made flew from his hands and broke into a thousand tiny fragments. In excruciating agony he lifted the injured foot from the ground and stood upon the other.
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