"
"What abominable scheme is this?" Beroviero fairly trembled in his fury.
"I offer you a simple bargain," Marietta answered, unmoved. "I will give
you your manuscript for my freedom. Will you take it, father? Or will
you insist upon trying to marry me by force, and let me give the book to
Giovanni? Yes, that is what I will do. Then I will marry Zorzi, and go
away."
"Silence, child! You! Marry a stranger, a Dalmatian--a servant!"
"But I love him. You may call him a servant, if you choose. It would
make no difference to me if it were true. He would not be less brave,
less loyal or less worthy if he were forced to clean your shoes in order
to live, instead of sharing your art with you. Did he ever lie to you?"
"No!" cried the old man. "I would have broken his bones!"
"Did he ever betray a secret, since you know that the book is safe?"
"No."
"Have you trusted him far more than your own sons, for many years?"
"Yes--of course--"
"Then call him your servant if you like, and call your sons what you
please," concluded Marietta, "but do not tell me that such a man is not
good enough to be the husband of a glass-blower's daughter, who does not
want a great name, nor a palace, nor a husband who sits in the Grand
Council. Do not say that, father, for it would not be true--and you
never told a lie in your life.
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