ng of the house as
if it were already his, and dictating to her upon matters of conduct as
well as upon questions of taste. Everything he said jarred on her, but
as yet she had no idea that he had any plans against Zorzi, and being of
a reserved character she often took no trouble to answer what he said,
except to bend her head a little to acknowledge that he had said it.
When she was alone with her father, she loved to sit with him after
supper in the big room, working by the clear light of the olive oil
lamp, while he sat in his great chair and talked to her of his work. He
had told her far more than he realised of his secret processes as well
as of his experiments, and she had remembered it, for she alone of his
children had inherited his true love and understanding of the noble art
of glass-making.

But now that he was away, Giovanni generally spent the evening in
instructing his wife how to save money, and she listened meekly enough
to what he told her, for she was a modest little woman, of colourless
character, brought up to have no great opinion of herself, though her
father was a rich merchant; and she looked upon her husband as belonging
to a superior class. Marietta found the conversation intolerable and
she generally left the couple together a quarter of an hour after
supper was over and went to her own room, where she worked a little and
listened to Nella's prattle, and sometimes answered her. She was living
in a state of half-suspended thought, and was glad to let the time pass
as it would, provided it passed at all.

This evening, as usual, she bade her brother and his wife good night,
and went upstairs. Nella had learned to expect her and was waiting for
her. To her surprise, Nella shut the window as soon as she entered.

"Leave it open," she said. "It is hot this evening. Why did you shut it?
You never do."

"A window is an ear," answered Nella mysteriously. "The nights are still
and voices carry far."

"What great secret are you going to talk of?" inquired Marietta, with a
careless smile, as she drew the long pins from her hair and let the
heavy braids fall behind her.

"Bad news, bad news!" Nella repeated. "The young master is doing things
which he ought not to do, because they are very unjust and spiteful. I
am only a poor serving-woman, but I would bite off my fingers, like
this"--and she bit them sharply and shook them--"before I would let them
do such things!"

"What do you mean, Nella?" a