Every
man had an apprentice to help him, and two boys tended the fire. The
foreman sat at a table, busy with an account, a small man, even paler
than the others and dressed in shabby brown hose and a loose brown coat.
The workmen wore only hose and shirts.
Without desisting from their occupations they cast surprised glances at
Giovanni and his companion, whom they all hated as a favoured person.
One of them was finishing a drinking-glass, rolling the pontil on the
arms of the working-stool; another, a beetle-browed fellow, swung his
long blow-pipe with its lump of glowing glass in a full circle, high in
air and almost to touch the ground; another was at a 'bocca' in the low
glare; all were busy, and the air was very hot and close. The men looked
grim and ill-tempered.
Giovanni explained the object of his coming in a way intended to
conciliate them to himself at Zorzi's expense. Their presence gave him
courage.
"This is Zorzi, the man without a name," he said, "who is come from
Dalmatia to give us a lesson in glass-blowing."
One of the men laughed, and the apprentices tittered. The others looked
as if they did not understand. Zorzi had known well enough what humour
he should find among them, but he would not let the taunt go unanswered.
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