I am afraid that you may change your mind, you see, and I am very anxious to have such a beautiful thing." He laughed cheerfully, nodded to Zorzi and went out at once, almost before the latter had time to rise from his seat and get his crutch under his arm.
When he was alone, Zorzi looked at the coin and laid it on the table.

He was much puzzled by Giovanni's conduct, but at the same time his artist's vanity was flattered by what had happened.

Giovanni's admiration of the glass was genuine; there could be no doubt of that, and he was a good judge.

As for the work, Zorzi knew quite well that there was not a glass-blower in Murano who could approach him either in taste or skill.

Old Beroviero had told him so within the last few months, and he felt that it was true.
He would have been neither a natural man nor a born artist if he had refused to sell the beaker, out of an exaggerated scruple.