But they are mere money-makers, and
it is better that they should enrich themselves with the tasteless
rubbish they make in their furnaces, than degrade our art by cheapening
what should be rare and costly. Am I right?"
"Indeed you are!" Zorzi now spoke in a tone of real conviction.
"If I thought you were really capable of making coloured drinking-cups
like that abominable object you made this morning, with the idea that
they could ever be used, you should not stay on Venetian soil a day,"
resumed the old man energetically. "You would be as bad as my sons, or
worse. Even they have enough sense to know that half the beauty of a
cup, when it is used, lies in the colour of the wine itself, which must
be seen through it. But I forgive you, because you were only anxious to
blow the glass thin, in order to show me the tint. You know better. That
is why I mean to trust you in a very grave matter."
Zorzi bent his head respectfully, but said nothing.
"I am obliged to make a journey before my daughter's marriage takes
place," continued Beroviero. "I shall entrust to you the manuscript
secrets I possess. They are in a sealed package so that you cannot read
them, but they will be in your care. If I leave them with any one else,
my sons will try to get possession of them while I am away.
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