It would be one more force acting in the direction of his ruin.
Giovanni went away to his own glass-house, meditating all manner of evil to his enemy, and as he reckoned up the chances of success, he began to wonder how he could have been so weak as to offer Zorzi an enormous bribe, instead of proceeding at once to his destruction.
Unconscious of his growing danger, Zorzi fed the fire of the furnace, and then sat down at the table before the window, laid his crutches beside him, and began to write out the details of his own experiments, as the master had done for years.

He wrote the rather elaborate characters of the fifteenth century in a small but clear hand, very unlike old Beroviero's.

The window was open, and the light breeze blew in, fanning his heated forehead; for the weather was growing hotter and hotter, and the order had been given to let the main furnaces cool after the following Saturday, as the workmen could not bear the heat many days longer.

After that, they would set to work in a shed at the back of the glass-house to knead the clay for making new crucibles, and the night boys would enjoy their annual holiday, which consisted in helping the workmen by treading the stiff clay in water for several hours every day.
A man's shadow darkened the window while Zorzi was writing, and he looked up.

Pasquale was standing outside.
"There is a pestering fellow at the door," he said, "who will not be satisfied till he has spoken with you.