They crossed themselves, and Marietta bent one knee, looking towards the high altar.
A score of people were scattered about, kneeling and standing in the nave.
Contarini was leaning against the second pillar on the left, and had been watching the door when Marietta and her father entered.

Beroviero saw him at once, but led his daughter up the opposite side of the nave, knelt down beside her a moment at the screen, then crossed and came down the aisle, and at last turned into the nave again by the second pillar, so as to come upon Contarini as it were unawares.

This all seemed necessary to him in order that Marietta should receive a very strong and sudden impression, which should leave no doubt in her mind.

Contarini himself was too thoroughly Venetian not to understand what Beroviero was doing, and when the two came upon him, he was drawn up to his full height, one gloved hand holding his cap and resting on his hip; the other, gloveless, and white as a woman's, was twisting his silky mustache.

Beroviero had manoeuvred so cleverly that Marietta almost jostled the young patrician as she turned the pillar.
Contarini drew back with quick grace and a slight inclination of his body, and then pretended the utmost surprise on seeing his valued friend Messer Angelo Beroviero.
"My most dear sir!" he exclaimed.