very angry," she
added, shyly correcting herself.

"If she has told you, sir," Zorzi began, "let me--"

"You can tell me nothing I do not know," cried Beroviero, "and nothing I
wish to hear! Be off! Go to the laboratory and begin work. I will speak
with my daughter."

Then Pasquale's voice was heard.

"A furnace without a fire is like a ship without a wind," he said. "It
might as well be anything else."

Beroviero looked towards the old porter indignantly, but Pasquale had
already begun to move and was returning to his lodge, uttering strange
and unearthly sounds as he went, for he was so happy that he was really
trying to hum a tune. The master turned to the lovers again. Zorzi had
withdrawn a step or two, but showed no signs of going further.

"If you are going to tell me that I must change my mind," said Marietta,
"and that it is a shame to love a penniless glass-blower--"

"Silence!" cried the old man, stroking his beard fiercely. "How can you
presume to guess what I may or may not say about your shameless conduct?
Did I not see him kissing you?"

"I daresay, for he did," answered Marietta, raising her eyebrows and
looking down in a resigned way. "And it is not the first time, either,"
she added, shaking her head and almost laughing.

"The insolence!" cried Beroviero. "The atrocious boldness!"

"Sir," said Zorzi, coming nearer, "there is only one remedy for it. Give
me your daughter for my wife--"

"Upon my faith, this is too much! You know that Marietta is betrothed to
Messer Jacopo Contarini--"

"I have told you that I will not marry him," said Marietta quietly, "so
it is just as if I had never been betrothed to him."

"That is no reason for marrying Zorzi," retorted Beroviero. "A pretty
match for you! Angelo Beroviero's daughter and a penniless foreigner who
cannot even be allowed to work openly at his art!"

"If I go away," Zorzi answered quietly, "I may soon be as rich as you,
sir."

At this unexpected statement Beroviero opened his eyes in real
astonishment, while Zorzi continued.

"You have your secrets, sir, and I have kept them safe for you. But I
have one of my own which is as valuable as any of yours. Did you find
some pieces of my work in the annealing oven? I see that they are on the
table now. Did you notice that the glass is like yours, but finer and
lighter?"

"Well, if it is, what then?" asked Beroviero. "It was an accident. You
mixed something with some of my glass--"

"No,