The old foreman came to help him, seeing that he was really injured, for
no one had quite realised it at first. Savagely as they hated him, the
workmen would not have tortured him, though they might have killed him
outright if they had dared. Excepting Piero and the man who had hurt
him, the workmen all went on with their work.
He was ghastly pale, and great drops of sweat rolled down his forehead
as he reached the foreman's chair and sat down: but after the first cry
he had uttered, he made no sound. The foreman could hear how his teeth
ground upon each other as he mastered the frightful suffering. Giovanni
came, and stood looking at the helpless foot, smashed by the weight that
had fallen upon it and burned to the bone in an instant by the molten
glass.
"I cannot walk," he said at last to the foreman. "Will you help me?"
His voice was steady but weak. The foreman and Giovanni helped him to
stand on his left foot, and putting his arms round their necks he swung
himself along as he could. The dark man had picked up his blow-pipe and
was at work again.
"You will pay for that when the master comes back," Piero said to him as
Zorzi passed. "You will starve if you are not careful."
Zorzi turned his head and looked the dark man full in the eyes.
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