His neighbour seemed to get no further with what he was doing, though he busily heated and reheated his lump of glass and again and again swung his blow-pipe round his head, and backward and forward.

The foreman was too much interested in Zorzi to notice what the others were doing.
Zorzi was putting the last touches to his work.

In a moment it would be finished and ready to go to the annealing oven, though he was even then reflecting that the workmen would certainly break it up as soon as the foreman turned his back.

The man next to him swung his blow-pipe again, loaded with red-hot glass.
It slipped from his hand, and the hot mass, with the full weight of the heavy iron behind it, landed on Zorzi's right foot, three paces away, with frightful force.

He uttered a sharp cry of surprise and pain.