He tied a piece of string to it, and hung it round his neck, so that it was hidden in his doublet like a charm or a scapulary.

Beroviero watched him and nodded in approval.
"Do not start before it is quite dark," he said.

"Take the little skiff.
The water will be high two hours before midnight, so you will have no trouble in getting across.

When you come back, come here, and tell the porter that I have ordered you to see that my fire is properly kept up.
Then go to sleep in the coolest place you can find." After Beroviero had given him these orders, Zorzi had plenty of time for reflection, for his master said nothing more, and became absorbed in his work, weighing out portions of different ingredients and slowly mixing each with the coloured earths and chemicals that were already in the wooden trough.

There was nothing to do but to tend the fire, and Zorzi pushed in the pieces of Istrian beech wood with his usual industrious regularity.