"It was not my fault."
"Forget that you heard it," said Marietta quietly, and as her father
entered the room again she passed him and went out into the garden.
But Zorzi did not even try to forget the name of the man whom Beroviero
appeared to have chosen for his daughter. He tried instead, to
understand why Marietta wished him not to remember that the name was
Jacopo Contarini. He glanced sideways at the girl's figure as she
disappeared through the door, and he thoughtfully pushed another piece
of wood into the fire. Some day, perhaps before long, she would marry
this man who had been mentioned, and then Zorzi would be alone with old
Beroviero in the laboratory. He set his teeth, and poked the fire with,
an iron rod.
It happened now and then that Marietta did not come to the glass-house.
Those days were long, and when night came Zorzi felt as if his heart
were turning into a hot stone in his breast, and his sight was dull, and
he ached from his work and felt scorched by the heat of the furnace. For
he was not very strong of limb, though he was quick with his hands and
of a very tenacious nature, able to endure pain as well as weariness
when he was determined to finish what he had begun. But while Marietta
was in the laboratory, nothing could tire him nor hurt him, nor make him
wish that the hours were less long.
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