r the young man
had promised Jacopo to tell old Contarini, though it was an ungrateful
errand, and one which, the latter might remember against him. But it was
a kind action, and Venier performed it as well as he could, telling the
story truthfully, but leaving out all such useless details as might
increase the father's anger.

At first indeed the old man brought his hand down heavily upon the
table, and swore that he would never see his son again, that he would
propose to the Ten to banish him from Venice, that he would disinherit
him and let him starve as he deserved, and much more to the same effect.
But Venier entreated him, for his own dignity's sake, to do none of
these things, but to send Jacopo to his villa on the Brenta river, where
he might devote himself in seclusion to growing his hair and beard
again; and Zuan represented that if he reappeared in Venice after many
months, not very greatly changed, the adventure would be so far
forgotten that his life among his friends would be at least bearable, in
spite of the ridicule to which he would now and then be exposed for the
rest of his life, whenever any one chose out of spite to mention
barbers, shears, razors, specifies for causing the hair to grow, or
Georgians, in his presence. Further, Venier ventured to suggest to
Contarini that he should at once break off the marriage arranged with
Beroviero, rather than expose himself to the inevitable indignity of
letting the step be taken by the glass-maker, who, said Venier, would as
soon think of giving his daughter to a Turk as to Jacopo, since the
latter's graceless doings had been suddenly held up to the light as the
laughing-stock of all Venice.

In making this suggestion Venier had followed the suggestion of his own
good sense and good feeling, and Contarini not only accepted the
proposal but was in the utmost haste to act upon it, fearing lest at any
moment a messenger might come over from Murano with the news that
Beroviero withdrew his consent to the marriage. Venier almost dictated
the letter which Contarini wrote with a trembling hand, and he promised
to deliver it himself, and if necessary to act as ambassador.

Beroviero had already called to Marietta that it was time to go home,
though the mid-day bells had not yet rung out the hour, when Pasquale
appeared in the garden and announced that Venier was waiting in his
gondola and desired an immediate interview on a matter of importance.

He would have co