Marietta | Page 6

herself. He might have known it. But for the rose that caught in her skirt, he might have roasted alive at the furnace before she would have noticed that he was hot. He followed her out. She led him to the end of the walk farthest from the door of the laboratory; the sun was low and all the little garden was in deep shade. A branch of the rose-bush lay across the path, and Zorzi thought it looked very much as if it had been pulled down on purpose. She pointed to it, and as he carefully lifted it from the ground she spoke quickly, in a low tone.
"What was my father saying to you a while ago?" she asked.
Zorzi held up the branch in his hand, ready to fasten it against the wall, and looked at her. He saw at a glance that she had brought him out to ask the question.
"The master was giving me certain orders," he said.
"He rarely makes such long speeches when he gives orders," observed the girl.
"His instructions were very particular."
"Will you not tell me what they were?"
Zorzi turned slowly from her and let the long branch rest on the bush while he began to drive a nail into the wall. Marietta watched him.
"Why do you not answer me?" she asked.
"Because I cannot," he said briefly.
"Because you will not, you mean."
"As you choose." Zorzi went on striking the nail.
"I am sorry," answered the young girl. "I really wish to know very much. Besides, if you will tell me, I will give you something."
Zorzi turned upon her suddenly with angry eyes.
"If money could buy your father's secrets from me, I should be a rich man by this time."
"I think I know as much of my father's secrets as you do," answered Marietta more coldly, "and I did not mean to offer you money."
"What then?" But as he asked the question Zorzi turned away again and began to fasten the branch.
Marietta did not answer at once, but she idly picked a rose from the bush and put it to her lips to breathe in its freshness.
"Why should you think that I meant to insult you?" she asked gently.
"I am only a servant, after all," answered Zorzi, with unnecessary bitterness. "Why should you not insult your servants, if you please? It would be quite natural."
"Would it? Even if you were really a servant?"
"It seems quite natural to you that I should betray your father's confidence. I do not see much difference between taking it for granted that a man is a traitor and offering him money to act as one."
"No," said Marietta, smelling the rose from time to time as she spoke, "there is not much difference. But I did not mean to hurt your feelings."
"You did not realise that I could have any, I fancy," retorted Zorzi, still angry.
"Perhaps I did not understand that you would consider what my father was telling you in the same light as a secret of the art," said Marietta slowly, "nor that you would look upon what I meant to offer you as a bribe. The matter concerned me, did it not?"
"Your name was not spoken. I have fastened the branch. Is there anything else for me to do?"
"Have you no curiosity to know what I would have given you?" asked Marietta.
"I should be ashamed to want anything at such a price," returned Zorzi proudly.
"You hold your honour high, even in trifles."
"It is all I have--my honour and my art."
"You care for nothing else? Nothing else in the whole world?"
"Nothing," said Zorzi.
"You must be very lonely in your thoughts," she said, and turned away.
As she went slowly along the path her hand hung by her side, and the rose she held fell from her fingers. Following her at a short distance, on his way back to the laboratory, Zorzi stooped and picked up the flower, not thinking that she would turn her head. But at that moment she had reached the door, and she looked back and saw what he had done. She stood still and held out her hand, expecting him to come up with her.
"My rose!" she exclaimed, as if surprised. "Give it back to me."
Zorzi gave it to her, and the colour came to his face a second time. She fastened it in her bodice, looking down at it as she did so.
"I am so fond of roses," she said, smiling a little. "Are you?"
"I planted all those you have here," he answered.
"Yes--I know."
She looked up as she spoke, and met his eyes, and all at once she laughed, not unkindly, nor as if at him, nor at what he had said, but quietly and happily, as women do when they have got what they want. Zorzi did not understand.
"You are gay," he said coldly.
"Do you