It was over at last, and Zorzi stood alone by the table, for Marietta
would not let him go with her to the door. She could not trust herself
before Pasquale, even in the gloom. He stood by the table, leaning on it
heavily with one hand, and trying to realise all that had come into his
lonely life within the half hour, and all that might happen to him
before morning. The glorious and triumphant certainty which first love
brings to every man when it is first returned, still swelled his heart
and filled the air he breathed, so that while breathing deep, he could
not breathe enough. In such a mood all dangers dwindled, all obstacles
sank out of sight as shadows sink at dawn. And yet the parting had hurt
him, as if his body had been wrenched in the middle by some resistless
force.
Women feel parting differently. Shall we men ever understand them? To a
man, first love is a victory, to a girl it is a sweet wonder, and a joy,
and a tender longing, all in one. And when partings come, as come they
must in life until death brings the last, it is always the man who
leaves, and the woman who is left, even though in plain fact it be the
man that stays behind; and we men feel a little contemptuous pity for
one who seems to cry out after the woman he loves, asking why she has
left him, and beseeching her to come back to him, but our compassion for
the woman in like case is always sincere. In such small things there are
the great mysteries of that prime difference, which neither man nor
woman can ever fully understand, but which, if not understood a little,
is the cause of much miserable misunderstanding in life.
Zorzi had to face the future at once, for it was upon him, and the old
life was over, perhaps never to come again. He stood still, where he
was, for any useless movement was an effort, and he tried to collect his
thoughts and determine just what he should do, and how it was to be
done. His eye fell on the piece of gold Giovanni had paid for the
beaker. In the morning, if he drew the iron tray further down the
annealing oven, the glass would be ready to be taken out, and Giovanni
could take it if he pleased, for he knew whose it was. But starvation
itself could not have induced Zorzi to take the money now. He turned
from it with contempt. All he needed was enough to buy bread for a week,
and mere bread cost little. That little he had, and it must suffice.
Besides that he would make a bundle small enough to be easily carried.
His chief difficulty would be in rowing the skiff. To use the single oar
at all it was almost indispensable to stand, and to stand chiefly on the
right foot, since the single rowlock, as in every Venetian boat, was on
the starboard side and could not be shifted to port. He fancied that in
some way he could manage to sit on the thwart, and use the oar as a
paddle. In any case he must get away, since flight was the wisest
course, and since he had promised Marietta that he would go. His
reflections had occupied scarce half a minute.
He began to walk towards the small room where he slept, and where he
kept his few possessions. He had taken two steps from the table, when he
stopped short, turned round and listened.
He heard the sound of light footsteps, running along the path and coming
nearer. In another moment Marietta was at the window, her face deadly
white, her eyes wide with fear.
"They are there!" she cried wildly. "They have come to-night! Hide
yourself quickly! Pasquale will keep them out as long as he can."
She had found Pasquale stoutly refusing to open the door. Outside stood
a lieutenant of the archers with half-a-dozen men, demanding admittance
in the name of the Governor. Pasquale answered that they might get in by
force if they could, but that he had no orders to open the door to them.
The lieutenant was in doubt whether his warrant authorised him to break
in or not.
Zorzi knew that Marietta was in even more danger than he. The situation
was desperate and the time short. She was still at the window, looking
in.
"You know your way to the main furnace rooms," Zorzi said quickly, but
with great coolness. "Run in there, and stand still in the dark till
everything is quiet. Then slip out and get home as quickly as
possible."
"But you? What will become of you?" asked Marietta in an agony of
anxiety.
"If they do not take me at once, they will search all the buildings and
will find you," answered Zorzi. "I will go and meet them, while you are
hiding."
He opened the door beside the window and put his crutch forward upon the
path. At the same moment the sound of a tremendous blow echoed down the
dark corridor. The moon was low but had not set and there was still
light in the garden.
"Quickly!" Zorzi exclaimed. "They are breaking down the door."
But Marietta clung to him almost savagely, when he tried to push her in
the direction of the main furnace rooms on the other side of the garden.
"I will not leave you," she cried. "They shall take me with you,
wherever you are going!"
She grasped his hand with both her hands, and then, as he moved, she
slipped her arm round him. At the street door the pounding blows
succeeded each other in quick succession, but apparently without effect.
Zorzi saw that he must make her understand her extreme danger. He took
hold of her wrist with a quiet strength that recalled her to herself,
and there was a tone of command in his voice when he spoke.
"Go at once," he said. "It will be worse for both of us if you are found
here. They will hang me for stealing the master's daughter as well as
his secrets. Go, dear love, go! Good-bye!"
He kissed her once, and then gently pushed her from him. She understood
that she must obey, and that if he spoke of his own danger it was for
the sake of her good name. With a gesture of despair she turned and left
him, crossed the patch of light without looking back, and disappeared
into the shadows beyond. She was safe now, for he would go and meet the
archers, opening the door to give himself up. Using his crutch he swung
himself along into the dark corridor without another moment's
hesitation.
But matters did not turn out as he expected. When the force came down
the footway from the dilution of San Piero, Giovanni was still talking
to his wife about household economies and censuring what he called the
reckless extravagance of his father's housekeeping. As he talked, he
heard the even tread of a number of marching men. He sprang to his feet
and went to the window, for he guessed who was coming, though he could
not imagine why the Governor had not waited till the next day, as had
been agreed. He could not know that on leaving him Jacopo Contarini had
seen his father and had told him of Zorzi's misdeeds; and that the
Governor had supped with old Contarini, who was an uncompromising
champion of the law, besides being one of the Ten and therefore the
Governor's superior in office; and that Contarini had advised that Zorzi
should be taken on that same night, as he might be warned of his danger
and find means to escape. Moreover, Contarini offered a trusty and swift
oarsman to take the order to Murano, and the Governor wrote it on the
supper table, between two draughts of Greek wine, which he drank from a
goblet made by Angelo Beroviero himself in the days when he still worked
at the art.
In half an hour the warrant was in the hands of the officer, who
immediately called out half-a-dozen of his men and marched them down to
the glass-house.
Giovanni saw them stop and knock at the door, and he heard Pasquale's
gruff inquiry.
"In the Governor's name, open at once!" said the officer.
"Any one can say that," answered the porter. "In the devil's name go
home and go to bed! Is this carnival time, to go masquerading by the
light of the moon and waking up honest people?"
"Silence!" roared the lieutenant. "Open the door, or it will be the
worse for you."
"It will be the worse for you, if the Signor Giovanni hears this
disturbance," answered Pasquale, who could see Giovanni at the window
opposite in the moonlight. "Either get orders from him, or go home and
leave me in holy peace, you band of braying jackasses, you mob of
blobber-lipped Barbary apes, you pack of doltish, droiling, doddered
joltheads! Be off!"
This eloquence, combined with Pasquale's assured manner, caused the
lieutenant to hesitate before breaking down the door, an operation for
which he had not been prepared, and for which he had brought no engines
of battery.
"Can you get in?" he inquired of his men, without deigning to answer the
porter's invectives. "If not, let one of you go for a sledge hammer.
Try it with the butts of your halberds against the lock, one, two, three
and all at once."
"Oh, break down the door!" cried Pasquale derisively. "It is of oak and
iron, and it cost good money, and you shall pay for it, you lubberly
ours."
But the men pounded away with a good will.
"Open the door!" cried Giovanni from the opposite window, at the top of
his lungs.
The sight of the destruction of property for which he might have to
account to his father was very painful to him. But he could not make
himself heard in the terrific din, or else Pasquale suspected the truth
and pretended that he could not hear. The porter had seen Marietta a
moment in the gloom, and he knew that she had gone back to warn Zorzi.
He hoped to give them both time to hide themselves, and he now retired
from the grating and began to strengthen the door, first by putting two
more heavy oak bars in their places across it near the top and bottom,
and further by bringing the scanty furniture from his lodge and piling
it up against the panels.
Meanwhile the pounding continued at a great rate, and Giovanni thought
it better to go down and interfere in person, since he could not make
himself heard. The servants were all roused by this time, and many heads
were looking out of upper windows, not only from Beroviero's house, but
from the houses higher up, beyond the wooden bridge. Two men who were
walking up the footway from the opposite direction stopped at a little
distance and looked on, their hoods drawn over their eyes.
Giovanni came out hurriedly and crossed the bridge. He laid his hand on
the lieutenant's shoulder anxiously and spoke close to his ear, for the
pounding was deafening. The six men had strapped their halberds firmly
together in a solid bundle with their belts, and standing three on each
side they swung the whole mass of wood and iron like a battering ram, in
regular time.
"Stop them, sir! Stop them, pray!" cried Giovanni. "I will have the door
opened for you."
Suddenly there was silence as the officer caught one of his men by the
arm and bade them all wait.
"Who are you, sir?" he inquired.
"I am Giovanni Beroviero," answered Giovanni, sure that his name would
inspire respect.
The officer took off his cap politely and then replaced it. The two men
who were looking on nudged each other.
"I have a warrant to arrest a certain Zorzi," began the lieutenant.
"I know! It is quite right, and he is within," answered Giovanni.
"Pasquale!" he called, standing on tiptoe under the grating. "Pasquale!
Open the door at once for these gentlemen."
"Gentlemen!" echoed one of the men softly, with a low laugh and digging
his elbow into his companion's side.
No one else spoke for a moment. Then Pasquale looked through the
grating.
"What did you say?" he asked.
"I said open the door at once!" answered Giovanni. "Can you not
recognise the officers of the law when you see them?"
"No," grunted Pasquale, "I have never seen much of them. Did you say I
was to open the door?"
"Yes!" cried Giovanni angrily, for he wished to show his zeal before the
officer. "Blockhead!" he added with emphasis, as Pasquale disappeared
again and was presumably out of hearing.
They all heard him dragging the furniture away again, the box-bed and
the table and the old chair.
Zorzi came up as Pasquale was clearing the stuff away.
"They want you," said the old sailor, seeing him and hearing him at the
same time. "What have you been doing now? Where is the young lady?"
"In the main furnace room," whispered Zorzi. "Do not let them go there
whatever they do."
Pasquale gave vent to his feelings in a low voice, as he dragged the
last things back and began to unbar the door. Zorzi leaned against the
wall, for his lameness prevented him from helping. At last the door was
opened, and he saw the figures of the men outside against the light. He
went forward as quickly as he could, pushing past Pasquale to get out.
He stood on the threshold, leaning on his crutch.
"I am Zorzi," he said quietly.
"Zorzi the Dalmatian, called the Ballarin?" asked the lieutenant.
"Yes, yes!" cried Giovanni, anxious to hasten matters, "They call him
the dancer because he is lame. This is that foreign liar, that thief,
that assassin! Take him quickly!"
The archers, who in the changes of time had become halberdiers, had
dropped the bundle of spears they had made for a battering-ram. Two of
them took Zorzi by the arms roughly, and prepared to drag him along with
them. He made no resistance, but objected quietly.
"I can walk better, if you do not hold me," he said. "I cannot run away,
as you see."
"Let him walk between you," ordered the officer. "Good night, sir," he
said to Giovanni.
Two of the men lifted the bundle of halberds and began to carry it
between them, trying to undo the straps as they walked, for they could
not stay behind. Giovanni saluted the officer and stood aside for the
party to pass. The two men who had looked on had separated, and one had
already gone forward and disappeared beyond the bridge. The other
lingered, apparently still interested in the proceedings. Pasquale, dumb
with rage at last, stood in the doorway.
"Let me pass," said Giovanni, as soon as the archers had gone on a few
steps, surrounding Zorzi.
With a growl, Pasquale came out and stood on the pavement a moment, and
Giovanni went in. Instantly, the man who had lingered made a step
towards the porter, whispered something in his ear, and then made off as
fast as he could in the direction taken by the archers. Pasquale looked
after him in surprise, only half understanding the meaning of what he
had said. Then he went in, but left the door ajar. The people who had
been looking out of the windows of Beroviero's house had disappeared,
when they had seen that Giovanni was on the footway. All was silent now;
only, far off, the tramp of the archers could still be heard.
They could not go very fast, with Zorzi in their midst, but the two men
who were busy unfastening the bundle of halberds lagged in the rear,
talking in a low voice. They did not notice quick footsteps behind them,
but they heard a low whistle, answered instantly by another, just as the
main party was nearing the corner by the church of San Piero. That was
the last the two loiterers remembered, for at the next instant they lay
in a heap upon the halberds, which had fallen upon the pavement with a
tremendous clatter. A couple of well-delivered blows with a stout stick
had thoroughly stunned them almost at the same instant. It would be some
time before they recovered their senses.
While the man who had whispered to Pasquale was doing effectual work in
the rear, his companion was boldly attacking the main party in front. As
the lieutenant stopped short and turned his head when the halberds
dropped, a blow under the jaw from a fist like a sledge hammer almost
lifted him off his feet and sent him reeling till he fell senseless,
half-a-dozen paces away. Before the two archers who were guarding Zorzi
could defend themselves, unarmed as they were, another blow had felled
one of them. The second, springing forward, was caught up like a child
by his terrible assailant and whirled through the air, to fall with a
noisy splash into the shallow waters of the canal. The other companion
attacked the remaining two from behind with his club and knocked one of
them down. The last sprang to one side and ran on a few steps as fast as
he could. But swifter feet followed him, and in an instant iron fingers
were clutching his throat and squeezing his breath out. He struggled a
moment, and then sank down. His captor deliberately knocked him on the
head with his fist, and he rolled over like a stone.
Utterly bewildered, Zorzi stood still, where he had stopped. Never in
his life had he dreamed that two men could dispose of seven, in
something like half a minute, with nothing but a stick for a weapon
between them. But he had seen it with his eyes, and he was not surprised
when he felt himself lifted from his feet, with his crutch beside him,
and carried along the footway at a sharp run, in the direction of the
glass-house. His reason told him that he had been rescued and was being
quickly conveyed to a place of safety, but he could not help distrusting
the means that accomplished the end, for he had unconsciously watched
the two men in what could hardly be called a fight, though he could not
see their faces, and a more murderous pair of ruffians he had never
seen. Men not well used to such deeds could not have done them at all,
thought Zorzi, as he was borne along, his breath almost shaken out of
him by the strong man's movements.
All was quiet, as they passed the glass-house, and no one was looking
out, for Giovanni's wife feared him far too much to seem to be spying
upon his doings, and the servants were discreet. Only Nella, hiding
behind the flowers in Marietta's window, and supposing that Marietta was
with her sister-in-law, was watching the door of the glass-house to see
when Giovanni would come out. She now heard the steps of the two men,
running down the footway. The rescue had taken place too far away for
her to hear anything but a splash in the canal. She saw that one of the
men was carrying what seemed to be the body of a man. She instinctively
crossed herself, as they ran on towards the end of the canal, and when
she could see them no longer in the shadow, she drew back into the room,
momentarily forgetting Giovanni, and already running over in her head
the wonderful conversation she was going to have with her mistress as
soon as the young girl came back to her room.
Pasquale, meanwhile, withdrew his feet from the old leathern slippers he
wore, and noiselessly stole down the corridor and along the garden path,
to find out what Giovanni was doing. When he came to the laboratory, he
saw that the window was now shut, as well as the door, and that Giovanni
had set the lamp on the floor behind the further end of the annealing
oven. Its bright light shot upwards to the dark ceiling, leaving the
front of the laboratory almost in the dark. Pasquale listened and he
heard the sharp tapping of a hammer on stone. He understood at once that
Giovanni had shut himself in to search for something, and would
therefore be busy some time.
Without noise he crossed the garden to the entrance of the main furnace
room and went into the passage.
"Come out quickly!" he whispered, as his seaman's eyes made out
Marietta's figure in a gloom that would have been total darkness to a
landsman; and he took hold of the girl's arm to lead her away.
"Your brother is in the laboratory, and will not come out," he
whispered. "By this time Zorzi may be safe."
"Safe!" She spoke the word aloud, in her relief.
"Hush, for heaven's sake. The door is open. You can get home now without
being seen. Make no noise."
She followed him quickly. They had to cross the patch of dim light in
the garden, and she glanced at the closed window of the laboratory. It
had all happened as Zorzi had foreseen, and Giovanni was already
searching for the manuscript. The only thing she could not understand
was that Zorzi should have escaped the archers. Even as she crossed the
garden, the two man were passing the door, bearing Zorzi he knew not
where, but away from the nearest danger. A moment later she was on the
footway, hurrying towards the bridge. Pasquale stood watching her, to be
sure that she was safe, and he glanced up at the windows, too, fearing
lest some one might still be looking out.
But chance had saved Marietta this time. She carefully barred the side
door after she had gone in, and groped her way up the dark stairs. On
the landing there was light from below, and she paused for breath, her
bosom heaving as she leaned a moment on the balustrade. She passed one
hand over her brows, as if to bring herself back to present
consciousness, and then went quickly on.
"Safe," she repeated under her breath as she went, "safe, safe, safe!"
It was to give herself courage, for she could hardly believe it, though
she knew that Pasquale would not deceive her and must have some strong
good reason for what he said. There had not been time to question him.
All he knew himself was that a man whose face he could not see had
whispered to him that Zorzi was in no danger. But he had recognised the
other man who had gone up the footway first, in spite of his short cloak
and hood, and he felt well assured that Charalambos Aristarchi could
throw the officer and his six men into the canal without anybody's help,
if he chose, though why the Greek ruffian was suddenly inspired to
interfere on Zorzi's behalf was a mystery past his comprehension.
Marietta entered her room, and Nella, who had been revelling in the
coming conversation, was suddenly very busy, stirring the drink of lime
flowers which Marietta had ordered. She was so sure that her mistress
had been all the time in the house, and so anxious not to have it
thought that she could possibly have been idle, even for a moment, that
she looked intently into the cup and stirred the contents in a most
conscientious manner. Marietta turned from her almost immediately and
began to undo the braids of hair, that Nella might comb it out and plait
it again for the night. Nella immediately began to talk, and to tell all
that she had seen from the window, with many other things which she had
not seen.
"But of course you were looking out, too," she said presently. "They
were all at the windows for some time."
"No," Marietta answered. "I was not looking out."
"Well, it was to-night, and not to-morrow, you see. Do you think the
Governor is stupid? If he had waited till to-morrow, we should have told
Zorzi. Poor Zorzi! I saw them taking him away, loaded with chains."
"In chains!" cried Marietta, starting painfully.
"I could not see the chains," continued Nella apologetically, "but I am
sure they were there. It was too dark to see. Poor Zorzi! Poor Zorzi! By
this time he is in the prison under the Governor's house, and he wishes
that he had never been born. A little straw, a little water! That is all
he has."
Marietta moved in her chair, as if something hurt her, but she knew that
it would be unwise to stop the woman's talk. Besides, Nella was
evidently sorry for Zorzi, though she thought his arrest very
interesting. She went on for a long time, combing more and more slowly,
after the manner of talkative maids, when they fear that their work may
be finished before their story. But for Pasquale's reassuring words,
Marietta felt that she must have gone mad. Zorzi was safe, somewhere,
and he was not in the Governor's prison, on the straw. She told herself
so again and again as Nella went on.
"There is one thing I did not tell you," said the latter, with a sudden
increase of vigour at the thought.
"I think you have told me enough, Nella," said Marietta wearily. "I am
very tired."
"You cannot go to bed till I have plaited your hair," answered Nella
mercilessly, but at the same time laying down the comb. "Just before you
came in, I was looking out of the window. It was just an accident, for I
was very busy with your things, of course. Well, as I was saying, in
passing I happened to glance out of the window, and I saw--guess what I
saw, my pretty lady!"
Marietta trembled, thinking that Nella had seen her, and perhaps
recognised her, and was about to bring her garrulous tale to a dramatic
climax by telling her so.
"Perhaps you saw a woman," she suggested desperately.
"A woman indeed!" cried Nella. "That must be a nice woman who would be
seen in the street at such a time of night, and the Governor's archers
there, too! Woman? I would not look at such a woman, I tell you! No.
What I saw was this, since you cannot guess. There came two big men,
running fast, and they were carrying a dead body between them! Eh! They
were at no good, I tell you. One could see that."
Marietta could bear no more, now. She bent her head and bit her finger
to keep herself from crying out.
"If you will not be still, how in the world am I to plait your hair?"
asked Nella querulously.
"Do it quickly, please," Marietta succeeded in saying. "I am so very
tired to-night."
Her head bent still further forward.
"Indeed," said Nella, much annoyed that her tale should not have been
received with more interest, "you seem to be half asleep already."
But Nella was much too truly attached to her mistress not to feel some
anxiety when she saw her white face and noticed how uncertainly she
walked. Nella had her in bed at last, however, and gave her more of the
soothing drink, smoothed the cool pillow under her head, looked round
the room to see that all was in order before going away, then took the
lamp and at last went out.
"Good night, my pretty lady," said Nella cheerfully from the door, "good
rest and pleasant dreams!"
She was gone at last, and she would not come back before morning.
Marietta sat up in bed in the dark and pressed her hands to her temples
in utter despair.
"I shall go mad! I shall go mad!" she whispered to herself.
She remembered that she had left her light silk mantle in the
laboratory, on the great chair.