To this Marietta said nothing. She only bent her head a little lower, looking down as she trod delicately over the hot and dusty ground.
"And you are a most ungrateful daughter," continued Beroviero, "if you do not appreciate my kindness and liberality of mind in allowing you to see him before you are formally betrothed."
"Perhaps he is even more pleased by your liberality of mind than I could possibly be," retorted the young girl with unbending coldness. "He has probably not seen many Venetian girls of our class face to face and unveiled. He is to be congratulated on his good fortune!"
"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?"