He worked on, careless of the time, his genius all alive, the rest a distant dream.
He was putting the finishing touches to a beaker of a new shape when the door opened, and Giovanni entered the laboratory.

Zorzi was seated on the working stool, the pontil in one hand, the 'porcello' in the other.

He glanced at Giovanni absently and went on, for it was the last touch and the glass was cooling quickly.
"Still working, in this heat ?" asked Giovanni, fanning himself with his cap as was his custom.
There was a moment's silence.

Then a sharp clicking sound and the beaker fell finished into the soft ashes.
"Yes, I am still at work, as you see," answered Zorzi, not realising that Giovanni would particularly notice what he was doing.
He rose with some difficulty and got his crutch under one arm.

With a forked stick he took the beaker from the ashes and placed it in the annealing oven.