Did you really take the boat and go to Venice last night ?" "Yes." Marietta's hand moved with the needle among the beads, but she did not thread one.

Nella had been right, after all.
"Why did you go, Zorzi ?" The question came in a lower tone that was full of regret.
"The master sent me," answered Zorzi, looking down at her hair, and wishing that he could see her face.
His wish was almost instantly fulfilled.

After the slightest pause she looked up at him with a lovely smile; yet when he saw that rare look in her face, his heart sank suddenly, instead of swelling and standing still with happiness, and when she saw how sad he was, she was grave with the instant longing to feel whatever he felt of pain or sorrow.
That is one of the truest signs of love, but Zorzi had not learned much of love's sign-language yet, and did not understand.
"What is it ?" she asked almost tenderly.
He turned his eyes from her and rested one hand against the trunk of the plane-tree.
"I do not understand," he said slowly.
"Why are you so sad?
What is it that is always making you suffer ?" "How could I tell you ?" The words were spoken almost under his breath.
"It would be very easy to tell me," she said.

"Perhaps I could help you--" "Oh no, no, no!" he cried with an accent of real pain.

"You could not help me!" "Who knows?
Perhaps I am the best friend you have in the world, Zorzi." "Indeed I believe you are! No one has ever been so good to me." "And you have not many friends," continued Marietta.