Contarini had never seen the Greek, and Arisa was not aware that he was in the church.  When Beroviero and Marietta were gone, Jacopo turned his back on the slave for a moment as if he meant to walk further up the church.  Aristarchi watched them both, for in spite of all he did not quite trust the Georgian woman, and he had never seen her alone with Jacopo when she was unaware of his own presence.  Yet he was afraid to go nearer, now, lest Arisa should accidentally see him and betray by her manner that she knew him.

Jacopo turned suddenly, when he judged that he could leave the church without overtaking Beroviero, and he walked quietly down the nave.  He passed close to Arisa, and Aristarchi guessed that their eyes met for a moment.  He almost fancied that Contarini’s lips moved, and he was sure that he smiled.  But that was all, and Arisa remained on her knees, not even turning her head a little as her lover went by.

“Not so ugly after all,” Contarini had said, under his breath, and the careless smile went with the words.

Arisa’s lip curled contemptuously as she heard.  She had drawn back her veil, her face was raised, as if she were sending up a prayer to heaven, and the light fell full upon the magnificent whiteness of her throat, that showed in strong relief against the black velvet and lace.  She needed no other answer to what he said, but in the scorn of her curving mouth, which seemed all meant for Marietta, there was contempt for him, too, that would have cut him to the quick of his vanity.

Aristarchi walked deliberately by the pillar to the aisle, as he passed, and listened for the flapping of the heavy leathern curtain at the door.  Then he stole nearer to the place where Arisa was still kneeling, and came noiselessly behind her and leaned against the column, and watched her, not caring if he surprised her now.

But she did not turn round.  Listening intently, Aristarchi heard a soft quick whispering, and he saw that it was punctuated by a very slight occasional movement of her head.

He had not believed her when she had told him that she said her prayers at night, but she was undoubtedly praying now, and Aristarchi watched her with interest, as he might have looked at some rare foreign animal whose habits he did not understand.  She was very intently bent on what she was saying, for he stayed there some time, scarcely breathing, before he turned away and disappeared in the shadows with noiseless steps.

CHAPTER VIII

All through the long Sunday afternoon Zorzi sat in the laboratory alone.  From time to time, he tended the fire, which must not be allowed to go down lest the quality of the glass should be injured, or at least changed.  Then he went back to the master’s great chair, and allowed himself to think of what was happening in the house opposite.