"I have a conscience," grumbled Nella. "The water is brought from far,
it is paid for, it costs money, we must not use too much of it. Every
day the boats come with it, and the row of earthen jars in the court is
filled, and your father pays--he always pays, and pays, and pays, till I
wonder where the money all comes from. They say he makes gold, over
there in the furnace."

"He makes glass," answered Marietta. "And if he orders gowns for me
with pearls and gold, he will not grudge me a jug of water. Why do you
dislike Zorzi?"

"He is as proud as a marble lion, and as obstinate as a Lombardy mule,"
explained Nella, with fine imagery. "If that is not enough to make one
dislike a young man, you shall tell me so! But one of those days he will
fall. There is trouble for the proud."

"How does his great pride show itself?" asked Marietta. "I have not
noticed it."

"That would indeed be the end of everything, if he showed his pride to
you!" Nella was much displeased by the mere suggestion. "But with us it
is different. He never speaks to the other workmen."

"They never speak to him."

"And quite right, too, since he holds his head so high, with no reason
at all! But it will not last for ever! I wonder what the master would
think, for instance, if he knew that Zorzi takes the skiff in the
evening, and rows himself over to Venice, all alone, and comes back long
after midnight, and sleeps in the glass-house across the way because he