He was utterly exhausted when he dropped into the big chair, after washing the dust and blood from his hands—­for it had been impossible to do what he had done without getting a few scratches, though none of them could have been called a cut.  He sat quite still and closed his eyes.  The box was safe now.  It was not to be imagined that any one should ever suspect where it was, and on that point he was well satisfied.  His only possible cause of anxiety now might be that if anything should happen to him, the master would be in ignorance of what he had done.  But he saw no reason to expect anything so serious and his mind was at rest about a matter which had much disturbed him ever since Giovanni’s visit.

The plan which he had attributed to the latter was not, however, the one which suggested itself to the younger Beroviero’s mind.  It would have been easy to carry out, and was very simple, and for that very reason Giovanni did not think of it.  Besides, in his estimation it would be better to act in such a way as to get rid of Zorzi for ever, if that were possible.

On the Saturday night after Zorzi had hidden the box in the jar, the workmen cleared away the litter in the main furnace rooms and the order was given to let the fires go out.  Zorzi sent word to the night boys who tended the fire in the laboratory that they were to come as usual.  They appeared punctually, and to his surprise made no objection to working, though he had expected that they would complain of the heat and allege that their fathers would not let them go on any longer.  On Sunday, according to the old rule of the house, no work was done, and Zorzi kept up the fire himself, spending most of the long day in the garden.  On Sunday night the boys came again and went to work without a word, and in the morning they left the usual supply of chopped billets piled up and ready for use.  Zorzi had rested himself thoroughly and went back to his experiments on that Monday with fresh energy.

The very first test he took of the glass that had been fusing since Saturday night was successful beyond his highest expectations.  He had grown reckless after having spoiled the original mixtures by adding the copper in the hope of getting more of the wonderful red, and carried away by the love of the art and by the certainty of ultimate success which every man of genius feels almost from boyhood, he had deliberately attempted to produce the white glass for which Beroviero was famous.  He followed a theory of his own in doing so, for although he was tolerably sure of the nature of the ingredients, as was every workman in the house, neither he nor they knew anything of the proportions in which Beroviero mixed the substances, and every glass-maker knows by experience that those proportions constitute by far the most important element of success.