The flowers outside
Marietta's window waved in the light breeze.
"Nella!" cried Pasquale, just as he was accustomed to call the maid when
Marietta wanted her.
At the sound of his voice the little boy, who was about to deal
effectually with his temptation by yielding to it at once, took to his
heels and ran away. But no one looked out from the house. Pasquale
called again, somewhat louder. The shutters of Marietta's window were
slowly opened inward and Marietta herself appeared, all in white and
pale, looking over the flowers.
"What is it?" she asked. "Why do you want Nella?"
The canal was narrow, so that one could talk across it almost in an
ordinary tone.
"Your pardon, lady," answered Pasquale. "I did not mean to disturb you.
There has been a little accident here, saving your grace."
This he added to avert possible ill fortune. Marietta instantly thought
of Zorzi. She leaned forward upon the window-sill above the flowers and
spoke anxiously.
"What has happened? Tell me quickly!"
"A man has had his foot badly burned--it must be dressed at once."
"Who is it?"
"Zorzi."
Pasquale saw that Marietta started a little and drew back. Then she
leaned forward again.
"Wait there a minute," she said, and disappeared quickly.
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