“You should have been more careful,” he said to Zorzi in a tone of reproach.  “You should not have let any one see you, when you took the boat.”

“If the woman spent half the night looking out of her window, sir, I do not understand how I could have taken the boat without being seen by her.”

“Well, well, there is no harm done, and you could not help it, I daresay.  I have something else to say.  You saw the lord Jacopo last night; what do you think of him?  He is a fine-looking young man.  Should not any girl be glad to get such a handsome husband?  What do you think?  And his name, too! one of the best in the Great Council.  They say he has a few debts, but his father is very rich, and has promised me that he will pay everything if only his son can be brought to marry and lead a graver life.  What do you think?”

“He is a very handsome young man,” said Zorzi loyally.  “What should I think?  It is a most honourable marriage for your house.”

“I hear no great harm of Jacopo,” continued Beroviero more familiarly.  “His father is miserly.  We have spent much time in the preliminary arrangements, without the knowledge of the son, and the old man is very grasping!  He would take all my fortune for the dowry if he could.  But he has to do with a glass-blower!”

Beroviero smiled thoughtfully.  Zorzi was silent, for he was suffering.

“You may wonder why I sent that message last night,” began the master again, “since matters are already so far settled with Jacopo’s father.  You would suppose that nothing more remained but to marry the couple in the presence of both families, should you not?”

“I know little of such affairs, sir,” answered Zorzi.

“That would be the usual way,” continued Beroviero.  “But I will not marry Marietta against her will.  I have always told her so.  She shall see her future husband before she is betrothed, and persuade herself with her own eyes that she is not being deceived into marrying a hunchback.”

“But supposing that after all the lord Jacopo should not be to her taste,” suggested Zorzi, “would you break off the match?”

“Break off the match?” cried Beroviero indignantly.  “Never!  Not to her taste?  The handsomest man in Venice, with a great name and a fortune to come?  It would not be my fault if the girl went mad and refused!  I would make her like him if she dared to hesitate a moment!”

“Even against her will?”

“She has no will in the matter,” retorted Beroviero angrily.

“But you have always told her that you would not marry her against her will—­”

“Do not anger me, Zorzi!  Do not try your specious logic with me!  Invent no absurd arguments, man!  Against her will, indeed?  How should she know any will but mine in the matter?  I shall certainly not marry her against her will!  She shall will what I please, neither more nor less.”

“If that is your point of view,” said Zorzi, “there is no room for argument.”