It was the first time that he had allowed his affection for Zorzi to
express itself so strongly, for he was generally a very cautious person.
He took the young man's hand and held it a moment, pressing it kindly.
"It was not I who made the law against strangers, and it was not meant
for men like you," he added.
Zorzi knew how much this meant from such a master and he would have
found words for thanks, had he been able; but when he tried, they would
not come.
"You may trust me," was all he could say.
Beroviero left him, and went down the dark corridor with the firm step
of a man who knows his way without light.
In the morning, when he left the house to begin his journey, Zorzi stood
by the steps with the servant to steady the gondola for him. His horses
were to be in waiting in Venice, whence he was to go over to the
mainland. He nodded to the young man carelessly, but said nothing, and
no one would have guessed how kindly he had spoken to him on the
previous night. Giovanni Beroviero took ceremonious leave of his father,
his cap in his hand, bending low, a lean man, twenty years older than
Marietta, with an insignificant brow and clean-shaven, pointed jaw and
greedy lips. Marietta stood within the shadow of the doorway, very pale.
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