“By my faith!” exclaimed Beroviero, “it is hard to satisfy you!”

“I have asked nothing.”

“Do you mean to say that you have any objections to allege against such a marriage?”

“Have I said that I should oppose it?  One may obey without enthusiasm.”  She laughed coldly.

“Like the unprofitable servant!  I had expected something more of you, my child.  I have been at infinite pains and I am making great sacrifices to procure you a suitable husband, and there are scores of noble girls in Venice who would give ten years of their lives to marry Jacopo Contarini!  And you say that you obey my commands without enthusiasm!  You are an ungrateful—­”

“No, I am not!” interrupted Marietta firmly.  “I would rather not marry at all—­”

“Not marry!” repeated Beroviero, interrupting her in a tone of profound stupefaction, and standing still in the sun as he spoke.  “Why—­what is the matter?”

“Is it so strange that I should be contented with my girl’s life?” asked Marietta.  “Should I not be ungrateful indeed, if I wished to leave you and become the wife of a man I have just seen for the first time?”

“You use most extraordinary arguments, my dear,” replied Beroviero, quite at a loss for a suitable retort.  “Of course, I have done my best to make you happy.”

He paused, for she had placed him in the awkward position of being angry because she did not wish to leave him.

“I really do not know what to say,” he added, after a moment’s reflection.

“Perhaps there is nothing to be said,” answered Marietta, in a tone of irritating superiority, for she certainly had the best of the discussion.

They had reached the gondola by this time, and as the servant sat within hearing at the open door of the ‘felse,’ they could not continue talking about such a matter.  Beroviero was glad of it, for he regarded the affair as settled, and considered that it should be hastened to its conclusion without any further reasoning about it.  If he had sent word to young Contarini that the answer should be given him in a week, that was merely an imaginary formality invented to cover his own dignity, since he had so far derogated from it as to allow the young man to see Marietta.  In reality the marriage had been determined and settled between Beroviero and Contarini’s father before anything had been said to either of the young people.  The meeting in the church might have been dispensed with, if the patrician had been able to answer with certainty for his wild son’s conduct.  Jacopo had demanded it, and his father was so anxious for the marriage that he had communicated the request to Beroviero.  The latter, always for his dignity’s sake, had pretended to refuse, and had then secretly arranged the matter for Jacopo, as has been seen, without old Contarini’s knowledge.