Marietta: A Maid of Venice by F. Marion Crawford (novels to read for beginners .txt) 📕

I may be permitted to work at my art as if I were a Venetian, and even to keep fires in a small furnace of my own, as other workmen may when they have saved money, that I may labour to the honour of all glass-makers, and for the good reputation of Murano. This is what I most humbly ask, imploring that it may be granted to me, but always according to your good pleasure."

When he had spoken thus, asking all that was left for him to desire and amazed at his own boldness, he was silent, and the Councillors began to discuss the question among themselves. At a sign from the Chiefs the urn into which the votes were cast was brought and set before the Doge; for all was decided by ballot with coloured balls, and no man knew how his neighbour voted.

"Have you anything more to say?" asked the secretary, again speaking to Zorzi.

"I have said all, save to thank your Highness and your lordships with all my heart," answered the Dalmatian.

"Withdraw, and await the decision of the Supreme Council."

Zorzi cast one more glance at the great half circle of venerable men, at their velvet robes, at the carved wainscot, at the painted vault above, and after making a low obeisance he found his way to the door, outside which the guards were waiting. They took him back to a cell like the one where he had already sat so long, but which was reached by another passage, for everything in the palace was so disposed as to prevent the possibility of one prisoner meeting another on his way to the tribunal or coming from it; and for this reason the Bridge of Sighs, which was then not yet built, was afterwards made to contain two separate passages.

It seemed a long time before the tread of guards ceased again and the door was opened, and Zorzi rose as quickly as he could when he saw that it was the secretary of the Ten who entered, carrying in his hand a document which had a seal attached to it.

"Your prayer is granted," said the man with the sharp grey eyes. "By this patent the Supreme Council permits you to set up a glass-maker's furnace of your own in Murano, and confers upon you all the privileges of a born glass-blower, and promises you especial protection if any one shall attempt to interfere with your rights."

Zorzi took the precious parchment eagerly, and he felt the hot blood rushing to his face as he tried to thank the secretary. But in a moment the busy personage was gone, after speaking a word to the guards, and Zorzi heard the rustling of his silk gown in the corridor.

"You are free, sir," said one of the guards very civilly, and holding the door open.

Zorzi went out in a dream, finding his way he knew not how, as he received a word of direction here and there from soldiers who guarded the staircases. When he was aware of outer things he was standing under the portico that surrounds the courtyard of the ducal palace. The broad parchment was unrolled in his hands and his eyes were puzzling over the Latin words and the unfamiliar abbreviations; on one side of him stood old Beroviero, reading over his shoulder with absorbed interest, and on the other was Zuan Venier, glancing at the document with the careless certainty of one who knows what to expect. Two steps away Pasquale stood, in his best clothes and his clean shirt, for he had been one of the witnesses, and he was firmly planted on his bowed legs, his long arms hanging down by his sides; his little red eyes were fixed on Zorzi's face, his ugly jaw was set like a mastiff's, and his extraordinary face seemed cut in two by a monstrous smile of delight.

"It seems to be in order," said Venier, politely smothering with his gloved hand the beginning of a yawn.

"I owe it to you, I am sure," answered Zorzi, turning grateful eyes to him.

"No, I assure you," said the patrician. "But I daresay it has made us all change our opinion of the Ten," he added with a smile. "Good-bye. Let me come and see you at work at your own furnace before long. I have always wished to see glass blown."

Without waiting for more, he walked quickly away, waving his hand after he had already turned.

It was noon when Zorzi had folded his patent carefully and hidden it in his bosom, and he and Beroviero and Pasquale went out of the busy gateway under the outer portico. Beroviero led the way to the right, and they passed Saint Mark's in the blazing sun, and the Patriarch's palace, and came to the shady landing, the very one at which the old man and his daughter had got out when they had come to the church to meet Contarini. The gondola was waiting there, and Beroviero pushed Zorzi gently before him.

"You are still lame," he said. "Get in first and sit down."

But Zorzi drew back, for a woman's hand was suddenly thrust out of the little window of the 'felse,' with a quick gesture.

"There is a lady inside," said Zorzi.

"Marietta is in the gondola," answered Beroviero with a smile. "She would not stay at home. But there is room for us all. Get in, my son."

NOTE

The story of Zorzi Ballarin and Marietta Beroviero is not mere fiction, and is told in several ways. The most common account of the circumstances assumes that Zorzi actually stole the secrets which Angelo Beroviero had received from Paolo Godi, and thereby forced Angelo to give him his daughter in marriage; but the learned Comm. C.A. Levi, director of the museum in Murano, where many works of Beroviero and Ballarin are preserved, has established the latter's reputation for honourable dealing with regard to the precious secrets, in a pamphlet entitled "L'Arte del Vetro in Murano," published in Venice, in 1895, to which I beg to refer the curious reader. I have used a novelist's privilege in writing a story which does not pretend to be historical. I have taken eleven years from the date on which Giovanni Beroviero wrote his letter to the Podestà of Murano, and the letter itself, though similar in spirit to the original, is differently worded and covers somewhat different ground; I have also represented Zorzi as standing alone in his attempt to become an independent glass-blower, whereas Comm. Levi has discovered that he had two companions, who were Dalmatians, like himself. There is no foundation in tradition for the existence of Arisa the Georgian slave, but it is well known that beautiful Eastern slaves were bought and sold in Venice and in many other parts of Italy even at a much later date.