ilk mantle quite round her, bending her head a little. The
servant walked a few paces in front.

"You have seen your future husband, my child," said Beroviero.

"I suppose that the young noble was Messer Jacopo Contarini," answered
Marietta coldly.

"You are hard to please, if you are not satisfied with my choice for
you," observed her father.

To this Marietta said nothing. She only bent her head a little lower,
looking down as she trod delicately over the hot and dusty ground.

"And you are a most ungrateful daughter," continued Beroviero, "if you
do not appreciate my kindness and liberality of mind in allowing you to
see him before you are formally betrothed."

"Perhaps he is even more pleased by your liberality of mind than I could
possibly be," retorted the young girl with unbending coldness. "He has
probably not seen many Venetian girls of our class face to face and
unveiled. He is to be congratulated on his good fortune!"

"By my faith!" exclaimed Beroviero, "it is hard to satisfy you!"

"I have asked nothing."

"Do you mean to say that you have any objections to allege against such
a marriage?"

"Have I said that I should oppose it? One may obey without enthusiasm."
She laughed coldly.

"Like the unprofitable servant! I had expected something more of you, my
child. I have been at infinite pains and I am making great sacrifices to
procure you a suitable husband, and there are scores of noble girls in
Venice who would give ten years of their lives to marry Jacopo
Contarini! And you say that you obey my commands without enthusiasm!
You are an ungrateful--"

"No, I am not!" interrupted Marietta firmly. "I would rather not marry
at all--"

"Not marry!" repeated Beroviero, interrupting her in a tone of profound
stupefaction, and standing still in the sun as he spoke. "Why--what is
the matter?"

"Is it so strange that I should be contented with my girl's life?" asked
Marietta. "Should I not be ungrateful indeed, if I wished to leave you
and become the wife of a man I have just seen for the first time?"

"You use most extraordinary arguments, my dear," replied Beroviero,
quite at a loss for a suitable retort. "Of course, I have done my best
to make you happy."

He paused, for she had placed him in the awkward position of being angry
because she did not wish to leave him.

"I really do not know what to say," he added, after a moment's
reflection.

"Perhaps there is nothing to be said," answered Ma