Venier, who had let the point of his long dagger rest against Zorzi’s collar, suddenly dropped it.

“Contarini,” he said, “I take back what I said.  It would be an abominable shame to murder a man as brave as he is.”

A murmur of approval came from all the company; but Contarini, whose vacillating nature showed itself at every turn, was now inclined to take the other side.

“He may ruin us all,” he said.  “One word—­”

“It seems to me,” interrupted a big man who had not yet spoken, and whose beard was as black as his mask, “that we could make use of just such a man as this, and of more like him if they are to be found.”

“You are right,” said Venier.  “If he will take the oath, and bear the tests, let him be one of us.  My friend,” he said to Zorzi, “you see how it is.  You have proved yourself a brave man, and if you are willing to join our company we shall be glad to receive you among us.  Do you agree?”

“I must know what the purpose of your society is,” answered Zorzi as calmly as before.

“That is well said, my friend, and I like you the better for it.  Now listen to me.  We are a brotherhood of gentlemen of Venice sworn together to restore the original freedom of our city.  That is our main purpose.  What Tiepolo and Faliero failed to do, we hope to accomplish.  Are you with us in that?”

“Sirs,” answered Zorzi, “I am a Dalmatian by birth, and not a Venetian.  The Republic forbids me to learn the art of glass-working.  I have learned it.  The Republic forbids me to set up a furnace of my own.  I hope to do so.  I owe Venice neither allegiance nor gratitude.  If your revolution is to give freedom to art as well as to men, I am with you.”

“We shall have freedom for all,” said Venier.  “We take, moreover, an oath of fellowship which binds us to help each other in all circumstances, to the utmost of our ability and fortune, within the bounds of reason, to risk life and limb for each other’s safety, and most especially to respect the wives, the daughters and the betrothed brides of all who belong to our fellowship.  These are promises which every true and honest man can make to his friends, and we agree that whoso breaks any one of them, shall die by the hands of the company.  And by God in heaven, it were better that you should lose your life now, before taking the oath, than that you should be false to it.”

“I will take that oath, and keep it,” said Zorzi.

“That is well.  We have few signs and no ceremonies, but our promises are binding, and the forfeit is a painful death—­so painful that even you might flinch before it.  Indeed, we usually make some test of a man’s courage before receiving him among us, though most of us have known each other since we were children.  But you have shown us that you are fearless and honourable, and we ask nothing more of you, except to take the oath and then to keep it.”

He turned to the company, still speaking in his languid way.