"No," said Beroviero. "One cannot be angry with people who are really out of their senses."
"I am not so mad as you think," answered the girl. "I have told you of my decision, because it was cowardly of me not to tell you what I felt before you went away. But it might be a mistake to tell you more to-day. You have had enough to harass you already, since you came back."
"You are suddenly very considerate."
"No, I have not been considerate. I could not be, without acting a lie to you, by letting you believe that I meant to marry Messer Jacopo, and I will not do that any longer, since I know that it is a lie. But I cannot see the use of saying anything more."
"You had better tell me the whole truth, rather than let me think something that may be much worse," answered Beroviero, changing his attitude.
"There is nothing in the truth of which I am ashamed," said Marietta, holding up her head proudly. "I have done nothing which I did not believe to be right, however strange it may seem to you."
Once more their eyes met and they gazed steadily at each other; and again the blush spread over her cheeks. Beroviero put out his hand and touched the folded mantle.
"Marietta," he said, "Zorzi has stolen my precious book of secrets, and has disappeared with it. They tell me that he also stole this mantle, for it was found here just after he was arrested last night. Is it true, or has he stolen my daughter instead?"
Marietta's face had darkened when he began to accuse the absent man. At the question that followed she started a little, and drew herself up.
"Zorzi is neither a thief nor a traitor," she answered. "If you mean to ask me whether I love him—is that what you mean?" She paused, with flashing eyes.