“It has been stolen,” Nella repeated, with gloomy emphasis.  “I trust no one in this house, since your brother and his wife have been here, with their servants.”

“My sister-in-law was obliged to bring one of her women,” objected Marietta.

“She need not have brought that sour-faced shrew, who walks about the house all day repeating the rosary and poking her long nose into what does not belong to her.  But I am not afraid of the Signor Giovanni.  I will tell the housekeeper that your mantle has been stolen, and all the women’s belongings shall be searched before dinner, and we shall find the mantle in that evil person’s box.”

“You must do nothing of the sort,” answered Marietta in a tone of authority.

She sat up in bed at last, and threw the thick braid of hair behind her, as every woman does when her hair is down, if she means to assert herself.

“Ah,” cried Nella mockingly, “I see that you are content to lose your best things without looking for them!  Then let us throw everything out of the window at once!  We shall make a fine figure!”

“I will speak to my brother about it myself,” said Marietta.

Indeed she thought it extremely likely that Giovanni would oblige her to speak of it within an hour.

“You will only make trouble among the servants,” she added.

“Oh, as you please!” snorted Nella discontentedly.  “I only tell you that I know who took it.  That is all.  Please to remember that I said so, when it is too late.  And as for trouble, there is not one of us in the house who would not like to be searched for the sake of sending your sister-in-law’s maid to prison, where she belongs!”

“Nella,” said Marietta, “I do not care a straw about the mantle.  I want you to do something very important.  I am sure that Zorzi has been arrested unjustly, and I do not believe that the Governor will keep him in prison.  Can you not get your friend the gondolier to go to the Governor’s palace before mid-day, and ask whether Zorzi is to be let out?”

“Of course I can.  By and by I will call him.  He is busy cleaning the gondola now.”

Marietta had spoken quite quietly, though she had expected that her voice would shake, and she had been almost sure that she was going to blush.  But nothing so dreadful happened, though she had prepared for it by turning her back on Nella.  She sat on the edge of the bed, slowly feeling her way into her little yellow leathern slippers.  It was a relief to know that even now she could speak of Zorzi without giving any outward sign of emotion, and she felt a little encouraged, as she began the dreaded day.

She took a long time in dressing, for she expected at every moment that her sister-in-law’s maid would knock at the door with a message from Giovanni, bidding her come to him before he went out.  But no one came, though it was already past the hour at which he usually left the house.  All at once she heard his unmistakable voice through the open window, and on looking out through the flowers she saw him standing at the open door of the glass-house, talking with the porter, or rather, giving instructions about the garden which Pasquale received in surly silence.