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Updated: June 20, 2025
The less you say of what has happened, the better it will be for you in the end." "I suppose my sister has been poisoning your mind against me as usual. Can she explain how her mantle came here?" "It does not concern you to know how it came here," answered Beroviero.
"Father," she began at last, with a great effort, "I know that what I am going to say will displease you very, very much. I am sorry I wish it were not " Suddenly her set 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 Jacopo Contarini!" Beroviero had not expected that.
"Nella has just told me that you have ordered my wedding gown," continued Marietta. "We are not alone," said her father in a low voice. "Zorzi probably knows what is the gossip of the house, and what I have been the last to hear," answered the young girl. "Besides, you trust him with all your secrets." "Yes, I trust him," assented Beroviero. "But these are private matters."
They were within sight of the window, but Beroviero did not heed them. He was seated in his own chair, in deep thought, his elbows resting on the wooden arms, his fingers pressing his temples on each side, thinking of his daughter, and perhaps not quite unaware that she was talking to the only man he had ever really trusted.
She fancied she could see the old man's fiery brown eyes and hear his angry voice. Poor Zorzi would be driven from Murano and Venice, never to set foot again within the boundaries of the Republic; for Beroviero was a man of weight and influence, of whom Venice was proud. Youth would be very sad if it counted time and labour as it is reckoned and valued by mature age.
By this time Beroviero was very angry; he stalked up and down beside the furnace, trailing his thin silk gown behind him, stroking his beard with a quick, impatient movement, and easting fierce glances at Marietta from time to time. He was not used to being at the mercy of circumstances, still less to having his mind made up for him by his son and his daughter.
I shall not be portionless. You shall not be ashamed of me when you meet your old friends." "Ashamed!" His arm pressed her to him till she longed to cry out for pain, yet she would not have had him less rough. "You are so strong!" she gasped in a broken whisper. "Yes a little looser so! I can speak now. You must go to Murano to-morrow and find out all about this Angelo Beroviero and his daughter.
Giovanni entered the laboratory confidently, not even knowing that Marietta was with her father, and not suspecting that he could have anything to fear from her. "I have come to take my leave of you, sir," he began, going towards his father at once. He did not see the broken jar, which was at some distance from the door. "Before you go," said Beroviero coldly, "pray look at this."
"He would have thought it discourteous to leave his friends," he said at last, "or to whisper an answer to a messenger in their presence. He said that he had expected the message, he will therefore come." To this Zorzi answered nothing, for he was glad not to be questioned further about what had happened. Presently Beroviero settled to his work with his usual concentration.
He had grown reckless after having spoiled the original mixtures by adding the copper in the hope of getting more of the wonderful red, and carried away by the love of the art and by the certainty of ultimate success which every man of genius feels almost from boyhood, he had deliberately attempted to produce the white glass for which Beroviero was famous.
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