Marietta | Page 5

his keen young face,
strength to endure, to forego, to suffer in silence for an end ardently
desired. The dark brown hair grew somewhat far back from the pale
forehead, the features were youthfully sharp and clearly drawn, and
deep neutral shadows gave a look of almost passionate sadness to the
black eyes. There was quick perception, imagination, love of art for its
own sake in the upper part of the face; its strength lay in the well-built
jaw and firm lips, and a little in the graceful and assured poise of the
head. Zorzi was not tall, but he was shapely, and moved without effort.
His eyes were sadder than usual just now, as he tended the fire in the
silence that was broken only by the low roar of the flames within the

brick furnace, and the irregular sound of the master's wooden
instrument as he crushed and stirred the materials together. Zorzi had
longed to see Contarini as soon as he had heard his name; and having
unexpectedly obtained the certainty of seeing him that very night, he
wished that the moment could be put off, he felt cold and hot, he
wondered how he should behave, and whether after all he might not be
tempted to do his enemy some bodily harm.
For in a few minutes the aspect of his world had changed, and
Contarini's unknown figure filled the future. Until to-day, he had never
seriously thought of Marietta's marriage, nor of what would happen to
him afterwards; but now, he was to be one of the instruments for
bringing the marriage about. He knew well enough what the
appointment in Saint Mark's meant: Marietta was to have an
opportunity of seeing Contarini before accepting him. Even that was
something of a concession in those times, but Beroviero fancied that he
loved his child too much to marry her against her will. This was
probably a great match for the glass-worker's daughter, however, and
she would not refuse it. Contarini had never seen her either; he might
have heard that she was a pretty girl, but there were famous beauties in
Venice, and if he wanted Marietta Beroviero it could only be for her
dowry. The marriage was therefore a mere bargain between the two
men, in which a name was bartered for a fortune and a fortune for a
name. Zorzi saw how absurd it was to suppose that Marietta could care
for a man whom she had never even seen; and worse than that, he
guessed in a flash of loving intuition how wretchedly unhappy she
might be with him, and he hated and despised the errand he was to
perform. The future seemed to reveal itself to him with the long
martyrdom of the woman he loved, and he felt an almost irresistible
desire to go to her and implore her to refuse to be sold.
Nine-tenths of the marriages he had ever heard of in Murano or Venice
had been made in this way, and in a moment's reflection he realised the
folly of appealing even to the girl herself, who doubtless looked upon
the whole proceeding as perfectly natural. She had of course expected
such an event ever since she had been a child, she was prepared to
accept it, and she only hoped that her husband might turn out to be

young, handsome and noble, since she did not want money. A moment
later, Zorzi included all marriageable young women in one sweeping
condemnation: they were all hard-hearted, mercenary, vain,
deceitful--anything that suggested itself to his headlong resentment. Art
was the only thing worth living and dying for; the world was full of
women, and they were all alike, old, young, ugly, handsome--all a pack
of heartless jades; but art was one, beautiful, true, deathless and
unchanging.
He looked up from the furnace door, and he felt the blood rush to his
face. Marietta was standing near and watching him with her strangely
veiled eyes.
"Poor Zorzi!" she exclaimed in a soft voice. "How hot you look!"
He did not remember that he had ever cared a straw whether any one
noticed that he was hot or not, until that moment; but for some
complicated reason connected with his own thoughts the remark stung
him like an insult, and fully confirmed his recent verdict concerning
women in general and their total lack of all human kindness where men
were concerned. He rose to his feet suddenly and turned away without a
word.
"Come out into the garden," said Marietta. "Do you need Zorzi just
now?" she asked, turning to her father, who only shook his head by
way of answer, for he was very busy.
"But I assure you that I am not too hot," answered Zorzi. "Why should I
go