"Where is Zarato?" asked Titian abruptly.
Giorgione started vaguely. A flush came into his face. "He stopped work—an hour ago," he said.
Titian's eyes were on his face.
The open friendliness had vanished. It was turned to him with a look of trouble. "Had you thought, Cevelli—" His speech hesitated and broke off. He was looking down at the dark water.
Titian answered the unspoken question. "Yes, I had thought," he said. His voice was very quiet.
His companion looked up quickly. "He is with her now, it may be.... I told them that I should not go home at the noon-bell." He looked about him slowly—at the clear sky and at the moving throng of boats below—
"I am going home." He spoke the words with dull emphasis.
Titian turned and held out his hand. "The gods be with you, friend!"
Giorgione gripped it for a moment. Tears waited behind the eyes and clouded the look of trust. "I could bear it if—if Zarato was not my friend," he said as he turned away.
"Keep faith while you may," said Titian, following him a step. "He who distrusts a friend lends thunderbolts to the gods," he quoted softly.