"Thou art restless," he said, suddenly and sternly; "what aileth thee?"
Her lip quivered, but she did not look up, while with an effort she steadied the movement of her hand and continued her work. "My hand hath no cunning to-night, and it vexeth me, my father."
"It is poor work when the heart is lacking," he answered, in a tone charged with irritation. "I also have seen a thing which hath taken my heart from me."
The color deepened in her cheeks and the pencil strokes came more falteringly, but she answered nothing.
"Nay, then!" he exclaimed, more brusquely than his wont, as he stretched out his hand and arrested her movement. "What I have to say to thee importeth much."
She flushed and paled with the struggle of the moment, then a beautiful calm came over her face; she laid down her pencil and, quietly dropping her hands in her lap, she turned to him with a smile that might have disarmed an angrier man--it was full of tenderness, though it was shadowed by pain.
It relaxed his sternness, and, after a moment's hesitation, he came around the table and sat down beside her.
"To-night is the fête at Ca' Giustiniani, for the young noble of their house."
He waited for her to speak, but she did not tremble now, though he was searching her face.
"And, Marina--I do not understand--and it is a grief to me----"
She nestled to him closely and tried to slip one of her slender hands between his, which were tightly strained together in a knotted clasp, as if he would make them the outlet for some unbearable emotion.
The previous evening was the first they had not passed together since the death of Zuanino; her father had sent her word that he had matter which would occupy him alone, and all day Marina had been heavy-hearted, going at matins and at vespers quite alone to the Madonna at the Duomo, that she might take comfort and counsel.
Girolamo did not respond to her caress, though his tone softened a little as he proceeded with his tale and her arm stole round him.
"Yesterday, at the stabilimento Beroviero, we were summoned by a call of our Capo of the Ten to witness the approval that should be passed on the exhibit of that stabilimento; we all, of the Guild of Murano, were there as always. And foremost among the productions, most marvelous for beauty, was a fabric of their lucent crystal--thou knowest it, Marina? My child--how came thy face there? _Thy_ face, Marina--set round with lustrous pearls!"