But the main furnace was entered from the corridor, so that the workmen never passed through the garden.
There were a few shrubs in it, two or three rose-bushes and a small plane-tree.

Zorzi, who had been born and brought up in the country, had made a couple of flower-beds, edged with refuse fragments of coloured and iridescent slag, and he had planted such common flowers as he could make grow in such a place, watering them from a disused rain-water cistern that was supposed to have been poisoned long ago.

Here Marietta often sat in the shade, when the laboratory was too close and hot, and when the time was at hand during which even the men would not be able to work on account of the heat, and the furnace would be put out and repaired, and every one would be set to making the delicate clay pots in which the glass was to be melted.

Marietta could sit silent and motionless in her seat under the plane-tree for a long time when she was thinking, and she never told any one her thoughts.
She was not unlike her father in looks, and that was doubtless the reason why he assumed that she must be like him in character.

No one would have said that she was handsome, but sometimes, when she smiled, those who saw that rare expression in her face thought she was beautiful.