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. "The workmen are
jealous of you, because you are always with my father. My brothers do
not like you, for the same reason, and they think that you will get my
father's secret from him some day, and outdo them all. No--you have not
many friends."

"I have none, but you and the master. The men would kill me if they
dared."

Marietta started a little, remembering how the workmen had looked at him
in the morning, when he came out.

"You need not be afraid," he added, seeing her movement. "They will not
touch me."

"Does my father know what your trouble is?" asked Marietta suddenly.

"No! That is--I have no trouble, I assure you. I am of a melancholy
nature."

"I am glad it has nothing to do with the secrets," said the young girl,
quietly ignoring the last part of his speech. "If it had, I could not
help you at all. Could I?"

That morning it had seemed an easy thing to wait even two years before
giving him a sign, before dropping in his path the rose which she would
not ask of him again. The minutes seemed years now. For she knew well
enough what his trouble was, since yesterday; he loved her, and he
thought it infinitely impossible, in his modesty, that she should ever
stoop to him. After she had spoken, she looked at him with half-closed
eyes for a while, but he stared stonily at the trunk of the tree beside
his hand. Gradually, as she gazed, her lids opened wider, and the
morning sunlight sparkled in the deep blue, and her fresh lips parted.
Before she was aware of it he was looking at her with a strange
expression she had never seen. Then she faintly blushed and looked down
at her beads once more. She felt as if she had told him that she loved
him. But he had not understood. He had only seen the transfiguration of
her face, and it had been for a moment as he had never seen it before.
Again his heart sank suddenly, and he utte