Beroviero was silent for a moment and looked out of the window.

"Listen to me," he said at last. "Tell your graceless gossip of a
serving-woman that I will answer for Zorzi, and that the next time she
hears any one taking the boat at night she had better come and call me,
and open her eyes a little wider. Tell her also that I entertain proper
persons to take care of my property without any help from her. Tell her
furthermore that she talks too much. You should not listen to a
servant's miserable chatter."

"I will tell her," replied Marietta meekly. "Did you say that the gown
was to be embroidered with pearls and silver, father, or with pearls and
gold?"

"I believe I said gold," answered the old man discontentedly.

"And when will it be ready? In about two months?"

"I daresay."

"So you mean to marry me in two months," concluded Marietta. "That is
not a long time."

"Should you prefer two years?" inquired Beroviero with increasing
annoyance. Marietta slipped from the table to her feet.

"It depends on the bridegroom," she answered. "Perhaps I may prefer to
wait a lifetime!" She moved towards the door.

"Oh, you shall be satisfied with the bridegroom! I promise you that."