They sat down on the bench under the
plane-tree and ate their meagre supper together in silence, for they had
talked much during the long day. Then Pasquale bade Zorzi good night and
went away, and Zorzi went into the laboratory, where all was dark. But
he knew every brick of the furnace and every stone of the pavement under
his feet, and in a few minutes he was fast asleep in his own bed,
feeling as safe as if the Ten had never existed and as though the
Signors of the Night were not searching every purlieu of Venice to take
him into custody. And early in the morning he got up, and Pasquale
brought him water as of old, and as his hose and doublet had suffered
considerably during his adventures, he put on the Sunday ones and came
out into the garden to breathe the morning air. Pasquale had no
intention of going over to the house to announce Zorzi's return, for he
was firmly convinced that the most simple way of keeping a secret was
not to tell it, and before long the master would probably come over
himself to ask for news.
Beroviero brought Marietta with him, as he often did, and when they were
within he naturally stopped to question Pasquale about his search, while
Marietta went on to the garden. The porter took a long time to shut the
door, and instead of answering Beroviero, shook his ugly head
discontentedly, and muttered imprecations on all makers of locks,
latches, bolts, bars and other fastenings, living, dead and yet unborn.
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