"What do you mean?"
Giovanni held the door open for him.
"I will tell you all about Zorzi, if you will come in," he said.
Beroviero entered, stood still a moment and looked about. Everything was
as Zorzi had left it, but the glass-maker's ear missed the low roar of
the furnace. Instinctively he made a step towards the latter, extending
his hand to see whether it was already cold, but at that moment he
caught sight of the silk mantle in the chair. He glanced quickly at his
son.
"Has Marietta been here with you this morning?" he asked sharply.
"Oh no!" answered Giovanni contemptuously. "Zorzi stole that thing and
had not time to hide it when they arrested him last night. I left it
just where it was, that the Governor might see it."
Beroviero's face changed slowly. His fiery brown eyes began to show a
dangerous light and he stroked his long beard quickly, twisting it a
little each time.
"If you say that Zorzi stole Marietta's silk mantle," he said slowly,
"you are either a fool or a liar."
"You are my father," answered Giovanni in some perturbation. "I cannot
answer you."
Beroviero was silent for a long time. He took the mantle from the chair,
examined it and assured himself that it was Marietta's own and no other.
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