I ever can forgive thee,
may the good Madonna help me!"

"There are two in every marriage," Piero retorted sullenly, for he was
angry now.

"It is just that--oh, it is just that!" Marina cried, clasping her hands
passionately. "Thou art so strong and so compelling, and thou dost not
stop for the right of it. She was such a child, she knew no better,
poverina! And thou--a man--not for love, nor right, nor any noble
thing"--the words came with repressed scorn--"to coax her to it, just
for a little triumph! To expose a child to such endless _critica_!"

Only a Venetian of the people could comprehend the full sting of this
word, which conveyed the searching, persistent disapproval of an entire
class, whose code, if viewed from the moral point of view, was painfully
slack, though from its own standard of decorum it was immutable.

"It has been said, once for all--thou dost not forgive."

"It is the last time, for this also, Piero; I meant never to speak of it
again, but those words of thine of the festa in San Pietro in Castello
made me forget. It came over me quite suddenly, that this is how thou
spendest the beautiful, great strength God gave thee to make a leader of
thee in real things. But whether it be great or small, or good or ill,
thou always wilt have thy way!"

"It's a poor fool of a fellow that wouldn't keep himself uppermost, like
oil," he cried, hesitating only for a moment between anger and
gratification, and choosing the way that ministered to his pride. "Santa
Maria! I'll butter thy macaroni with fine cheese every time!"

"Nay, spare thy pains, Piero, and be serious for one moment. There is no
_barcariol_ in all Venice who hath greater opportunities, but thou must
use them well. They spoil thee at the traghetto; and if a man hath his
will always, it will either spoil him or make him noble."

"What wouldst thou have me to do?" he questioned sullenly.

"They would be afraid of thee--thou couldst quiet these troubles in the
traghetti--thou must use thy strength and thy will for the good of the
people. It is terrible to have power and to use it wrongly."

Piero moved back to his place again and took up his oar, throwing
himself in position for a forward stroke. "Forget not," he said,
poising, "that I need not listen to thee if I do not choose. I may not
stay _in casa_ Magagnati--not any more, if thou art always scolding."

"I shall scold--always--until thou dost quiet this disorder of the
traghetti,"