Marietta rested her elbow on the arm of the big chair, and her hand
supported her chin, in an attitude of thought, as she looked steadily at
Zorzi's face, and her own was grave and sad.
"You never trusted me," she said presently. "Yet I have been a good
friend to you, have I not?"
"A friend? Oh, much more than that!" Zorzi turned his eyes from her. "I
trust you with all my heart."
She shook her head incredulously.
"If you trusted me, you would do what I ask," she said. "I have risked
something to help you--perhaps to save your life--who knows? Do you know
what would happen if my brother found me here alone with you? I should
end my life in a convent. But if you will not save yourself, I might as
well not have come."
"I would give you the book if I could," answered Zorzi. "But I cannot.
It is hidden in such a way that it would take a long time to get it out.
That is the simple truth. Your father and I had buried it here under the
stones, but somehow your brother suspected that, and I have changed the
hiding-place. It took a whole morning to do it."
Still Marietta did not quite believe that he could not give it to her if
he chose. It seemed as if there must always be a shadow between them,
when they were together, always the beginning of a misunderstanding.
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