"It was not my fault." "Forget that you heard it," said Marietta quietly, and as her father entered the room again she passed him and went out into the garden.
But Zorzi did not even try to forget the name of the man whom Beroviero appeared to have chosen for his daughter.

He tried instead, to understand why Marietta wished him not to remember that the name was Jacopo Contarini.

He glanced sideways at the girl's figure as she disappeared through the door, and he thoughtfully pushed another piece of wood into the fire.

Some day, perhaps before long, she would marry this man who had been mentioned, and then Zorzi would be alone with old Beroviero in the laboratory.

He set his teeth, and poked the fire with, an iron rod.
It happened now and then that Marietta did not come to the glass-house.
Those days were long, and when night came Zorzi felt as if his heart were turning into a hot stone in his breast, and his sight was dull, and he ached from his work and felt scorched by the heat of the furnace.