"I will bring him barley water with the syrup of poppies. What do you expect? Do you think that such a wound and such a burn are cooling to the blood, and refreshing to the brain? The man is badly hurt. Of course he is feverish. He ought to be in his bed, like a decent Christian."
"Some one must help me with the work," said Zorzi faintly.
"There is no one but me," answered Marietta after a moment's pause.
"You?" cried Nella, greatly scandalised.
Even Pasquale stared at Marietta in silent astonishment.
"Yes," she said quietly. "There is no one else who knows enough about my father's work."
"That is true," said Zorzi. "But you cannot come here and work with me."
Marietta turned away and walked to the window. In her thin dress she stood there a few minutes, like a slender lily, all white and gold in the summer light.
"It is out of the question!" protested Nella. "Her brother will never allow her to come. He will lock her up in her own room for safety, till the master comes home."
"I think I shall always do just what I think right," said Marietta quietly, as if to herself.