Zorzi looked furtively towards the table, for he could not help hearing all that was said.

“For instance,” continued Marietta, watching him, “she knows that last night some one unlocked the chain that moors the skiff, and rowed away towards Venice.”

To her surprise Zorzi showed no embarrassment.  He had made up the fire and now sat down at a little distance, on one of the flat arms of the glass-blower’s working-stool.  His face was pale and quiet, and his eyes did not avoid hers.

“If I caught any one using my boat without my leave, I would make him pay dear,” said Beroviero, but without anger, as if he were stating a general truth.

“Whoever it was who took the boat brought it back an hour after midnight, locked the padlock again and went away,” said Marietta.

“Tell Nella that I am much indebted to her for her watchfulness.  She is as good as a house-dog.  Tell her to come and wake me if she sees any one taking the boat again.”

“She says she knows who took it last night,” observed Marietta, who was puzzled by the attitude of the two men; she had now decided that it had not been Zorzi who had used the boat, but on the other hand the story did not rouse her father’s anger as she had expected.

“Did she tell you the man’s name?”

“Yes.”

“Who was it?”

“She said it was Zorzi.”  Marietta laughed incredulously as she spoke, and Zorzi smiled quietly.

Beroviero was silent for a moment and looked out of the window.

“Listen to me,” he said at last.  “Tell your graceless gossip of a serving-woman that I will answer for Zorzi, and that the next time she hears any one taking the boat at night she had better come and call me, and open her eyes a little wider.  Tell her also that I entertain proper persons to take care of my property without any help from her.  Tell her furthermore that she talks too much.  You should not listen to a servant’s miserable chatter.”

“I will tell her,” replied Marietta meekly.  “Did you say that the gown was to be embroidered with pearls and silver, father, or with pearls and gold?”

“I believe I said gold,” answered the old man discontentedly.

“And when will it be ready?  In about two months?”

“I daresay.”

“So you mean to marry me in two months,” concluded Marietta.  “That is not a long time.”

“Should you prefer two years?” inquired Beroviero with increasing annoyance.  Marietta slipped from the table to her feet.

“It depends on the bridegroom,” she answered.  “Perhaps I may prefer to wait a lifetime!” She moved towards the door.

“Oh, you shall be satisfied with the bridegroom!  I promise you that.”  The old man looked after her.  At the door she turned her head, smiling.

“I may be hard to please,” she said quietly, and she went out into the garden.

When she was gone Beroviero shut the window carefully, and though the round bull’s-eye panes let in the light plentifully, they effectually prevented any one from seeing into the room.  The door was already closed.