Zorzi took the lamp and examined the edges.

One of them was a little chipped by the crowbar, and he rubbed it with the greasy tow and scattered dust over it.

Then he got a cypress broom and swept the earth carefully away into a heap.

Beroviero himself brought the shovel and held it close to the stones while Zorzi pushed the loose earth upon it.
"Carry it out and scatter it in the garden," said the old man.
It was the first time that he had allowed his affection for Zorzi to express itself so strongly, for he was generally a very cautious person.
He took the young man's hand and held it a moment, pressing it kindly.
"It was not I who made the law against strangers, and it was not meant for men like you," he added.
Zorzi knew how much this meant from such a master and he would have found words for thanks, had he been able; but when he tried, they would not come.
"You may trust me," was all he could say.
Beroviero left him, and went down the dark corridor with the firm step of a man who knows his way without light.
In the morning, when he left the house to begin his journey, Zorzi stood by the steps with the servant to steady the gondola for him.

His horses were to be in waiting in Venice, whence he was to go over to the mainland.