He also showed me a specimen of it."
"Is it here?" asked Beroviero anxiously. "Where is it?"
Giovanni took the specimen from the table, for Zorzi had left it lying
there, and he handed it to his father. The latter took it, held it up to
the light, and uttered an exclamation of astonishment and anger.
"There is only one way of making that," he said, without hesitation.
"Yes," Giovanni answered coolly. "I supposed it was made according to
one of your secrets."
A quick look was the only reply to this speech. Giovanni continued.
"I asked him to sell me the piece of glass he had been making when he
came in, and at first he pretended that he was not sure whether you
would allow it, but at last he took a piece of gold for it, and I was to
have it as soon as it was annealed. When you see it, you will understand
why I was so anxious to get it."
"Where is it?" asked the old man. "Show it to me."
Giovanni went to the other end of the annealing oven, and came back a
moment later carrying the iron tray on which stood the pieces Zorzi had
made on the previous morning. Beroviero looked at them critically, tried
their weight, and noticed their transparency.
"That is not my glass," he said in a tone of decision.
"No," said Giovanni, "I saw that it was not your ordinary glass.
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