"I have locked it myself."
Pasquale snarled something incomprehensible, by way of reply, and rose
to let Giovanni out. He noticed that the latter had brought nothing but
the lamp with him. When the door was open Pasquale looked across at the
house, and saw that although there was still light in some of the other
windows, Marietta's window was now dark. She was safe in bed, for
Giovanni's search had occupied more than an hour.
Marietta might have breathed somewhat more freely if she had known that
her brother did not even suspect her of having been to the laboratory,
but the knowledge would have been more than balanced by a still greater
anxiety if she had been told that Zorzi could be accused of a common
theft.
She sat up in the dark and pressed her throbbing temples with her hands.
She thought, if she thought at all, of getting up again and going back
to the glass-house. Pasquale would let her in, of course, and she could
get the mantle back. But there was Nella, in the next room, and Nella
seemed to be always awake, and would hear her stirring and come in to
know if she wanted anything. Besides, she was in the dark. The night
light burned always in Nella's room, a tiny wick supported by a bit of
split cork in an earthen cup of oil, most carefully tended, for if it
went out, it could only be lighted by going down to the hall where a
large lamp burned all night.
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