“Come out into the garden,” said Marietta.  “Do you need Zorzi just now?” she asked, turning to her father, who only shook his head by way of answer, for he was very busy.

“But I assure you that I am not too hot,” answered Zorzi.  “Why should I go out?”

“Because I want you to fasten up one of the branches of the red rose.  It catches in my skirt every time I pass.  You will need a hammer and a little nail.”

She had not been thinking of his comfort after all, thought Zorzi as he got the hammer.  She had only wanted something done for herself.  He might have known it.  But for the rose that caught in her skirt, he might have roasted alive at the furnace before she would have noticed that he was hot.  He followed her out.  She led him to the end of the walk farthest from the door of the laboratory; the sun was low and all the little garden was in deep shade.  A branch of the rose-bush lay across the path, and Zorzi thought it looked very much as if it had been pulled down on purpose.  She pointed to it, and as he carefully lifted it from the ground she spoke quickly, in a low tone.

“What was my father saying to you a while ago?” she asked.

Zorzi held up the branch in his hand, ready to fasten it against the wall, and looked at her.  He saw at a glance that she had brought him out to ask the question.

“The master was giving me certain orders,” he said.

“He rarely makes such long speeches when he gives orders,” observed the girl.

“His instructions were very particular.”

“Will you not tell me what they were?”

Zorzi turned slowly from her and let the long branch rest on the bush while he began to drive a nail into the wall.  Marietta watched him.

“Why do you not answer me?” she asked.

“Because I cannot,” he said briefly.

“Because you will not, you mean.”

“As you choose.”  Zorzi went on striking the nail.

“I am sorry,” answered the young girl.  “I really wish to know very much.  Besides, if you will tell me, I will give you something.”

Zorzi turned upon her suddenly with angry eyes.

“If money could buy your father’s secrets from me, I should be a rich man by this time.”

“I think I know as much of my father’s secrets as you do,” answered Marietta more coldly, “and I did not mean to offer you money.”

“What then?” But as he asked the question Zorzi turned away again and began to fasten the branch.

Marietta did not answer at once, but she idly picked a rose from the bush and put it to her lips to breathe in its freshness.

“Why should you think that I meant to insult you?” she asked gently.

“I am only a servant, after all,” answered Zorzi, with unnecessary bitterness.  “Why should you not insult your servants, if you please?  It would be quite natural.”

“Would it?  Even if you were really a servant?”