ached the shallow lagoon. The boatman asked
whither he should go.

"To Murano," answered the Greek. "And keep over by Saint Michael's, for
the tide is low."

The boatman had already understood that his passenger knew Venice almost
as well as he. The boat shot forward at a good rate under the bending
oar, and in twenty minutes Aristarchi was at the entrance to the canal
of San Piero and within sight of Beroviero's house.

"Easy there," said the Greek, holding up his hand. "Do you know Murano
well, my man?"

"As well as Venice, sir."

"Whose house is that, which has the upper story built on columns over
the footway?"

"It belongs to Messer Angelo Beroviero. His glass-house takes up all the
left aide of the canal as far as the bridge."

"And beyond the bridge I can see two new houses, on the same side. Whose
are they?"

"They belong to the two sons of Messer Angelo Beroviero, who have
furnaces of their own, all the way to the corner of the Grand Canal."

"Is there a Grand Canal in Murano?" asked Aristarchi.

"They call it so," answered the boatman with some contempt. "The
Beroviero have several houses on it, too."

"It seems to me that Beroviero owns most of Murano," observed the Greek.
"He must be very rich."

"He is by far the richest. But there is Alvise Trevisan, a rich man,
too, and there are two or three others. The island and all the
glass-works are theirs, amongst them."

"I have business with Messer Angelo," said Aristarchi. "But if he is
such a great man he will hardly be in the glass-house."

"I will ask," answered the boatman.

In a few minutes he made his boat fast to the steps before the
glass-house, went ashore and knocked at the door. Aristarchi leaned back
in his seat, chewing pistachio nuts, which he carried in an embroidered
leathern bag at his belt. His right hand played mechanically with the
short string of thick amber beads which he used for counting. The June
sun blazed down upon his swarthy face.

At the grating beside the door the porter's head appeared, partially
visible behind the bars.

"Is Messer Angelo Beroviero within?" inquired the boatman civilly.

"What is your business?" asked the porter in a tone of surly contempt,
instead of answering the question.

"There is a rich foreign gentleman here, who desires to speak with him,"
answered the boatman.

"Is he the Pope?" asked the porter, with fine irony.

"No, sir," said the other, intimidated by the fellow's manner.