Last of all, his father heard it when he came home about an hour before noon from the sitting of the Council of Ten, of which he was a member for that year.  He found Zuan Venier waiting in the hall of his house, and the two remained closeted together for some time.  For 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 come on Contarini’s behalf, if for no other reason, but he had spent much time that morning in laying Zorzi’s case before his friends and all the members of the Grand Council who could have any special influence with the Ten, or with the aged Doge, who, although in his eightieth year, frequently assisted in person at their meetings, and whose Counsellors were always present.  He was now almost sure of obtaining a favourable hearing for Zorzi, and wished to see Beroviero, for he was still in ignorance of Zorzi’s return to the glass-house during the night.