"I daresay, for he did," answered Marietta, raising her eyebrows and looking down in a resigned way. "And it is not the first time, either," she added, shaking her head and almost laughing.
"The insolence!" cried Beroviero. "The atrocious boldness!"
"Sir," said Zorzi, coming nearer, "there is only one remedy for it. Give me your daughter for my wife—"
"Upon my faith, this is too much! You know that Marietta is betrothed to Messer Jacopo Contarini—"
"I have told you that I will not marry him," said Marietta quietly, "so it is just as if I had never been betrothed to him."
"That is no reason for marrying Zorzi," retorted Beroviero. "A pretty match for you! Angelo Beroviero's daughter and a penniless foreigner who cannot even be allowed to work openly at his art!"
"If I go away," Zorzi answered quietly, "I may soon be as rich as you, sir."
At this unexpected statement Beroviero opened his eyes in real astonishment, while Zorzi continued.
"You have your secrets, sir, and I have kept them safe for you. But I have one of my own which is as valuable as any of yours. Did you find some pieces of my work in the annealing oven? I see that they are on the table now. Did you notice that the glass is like yours, but finer and lighter?"
"Well, if it is, what then?" asked Beroviero. "It was an accident. You mixed something with some of my glass—"