He came a little way down the path, then stopped, took a short knife
from his wallet and began to trim away a few withered sprigs from a
rose-bush. She waited a moment, but he showed no signs of coming nearer,
so she spoke to him.
"Will you come here?" she asked softly, looking towards him with
half-closed eyes.
He slipped the knife back into his pouch and walked quickly to her side.
She looked down again, threading the coloured beads that half filled a
small basket in her lap.
"May I ask you a question?" Her voice had a little persuasive hesitation
in it, as if she wished him to understand that the answer would be a
favour of which she was anything but certain.
"Anything you will," said Zorzi.
"Provided I do not ask about my father's secret!" A little laughter
trembled in the words. "You were so severe yesterday, you know. I am
almost afraid ever to ask you anything again."
"I will answer as well as I can."
"Well--tell me this. Did you really take the boat and go to Venice last
night?"
"Yes."
Marietta's hand moved with the needle among the beads, but she did not
thread one. Nella had been right, after all.
"Why did you go, Zorzi?" The question came in a lower tone that was full
of regret.
"The master sent me," answered Zorzi, looking down at her hair, and
wishing that he could see her face.
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