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Updated: June 23, 2025
"No, no!" answered Giovanni, rising, and putting the money into Zorzi's hand. "If anything happens to it, I will take another. I am afraid that you may change your mind, you see, and I am very anxious to have such a beautiful thing." He laughed cheerfully, nodded to Zorzi and went out at once, almost before the latter had time to rise from his seat and get his crutch under his arm.
But she could not find any words. "Speak, child," said her 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.
Listen to me, Jacopo; if you think that I will leave this house while this fellow is alive, you are most egregiously mistaken." He had drawn his dagger while he was speaking, and before he had finished it was dangerously near Zorzi's throat.
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 to you, have I not?" "A friend? Oh, much more than that!" Zorzi turned his eyes from her. "I trust you with all my heart."
He was now almost sure of obtaining a favourable hearing for Zorzi, and wished to see Beroviero, for he was still in ignorance of Zorzi's return to the glass-house during the night.
Besides, if one talked of justice, there was Zorzi's case to prove that there was no justice at all in Venetian law. Marietta suddenly wished that she were wicked, like the Romans and the Florentines; and even when she reflected that it was a sin to wish that one were bad, she was not properly repentant, because she had a very vague notion of what wickedness really was.
To tell the truth, though he knew Zorzi's character, he had not believed that any one could refuse such a bribe, and he was trying to account for the Dalmatian's integrity by reckoning up the expectations the young man must have, to set against such a large sum of ready money.
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.
They would have taken him to the small inner room, to lay him on his pallet bed, but he would not go. "The bench," he managed to say, indicating it with a nod of his head. There was an old leathern pillow in the big chair. The foreman took it and placed it under Zorzi's head. "We must get a surgeon to dress his wound," said the foreman. "I will send for one," answered Giovanni.
Pasquale had no intention of going over to the house to announce Zorzi's return, for he was firmly convinced that the most simple way of keeping a secret was not to tell it, and before long the master would probably come over himself to ask for news.
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