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It was a
relic of those earlier days when there were no furnaces in Murano,
though many of the finest workers came from this island and belonged to
the corporation of the workers on Rialto, and it was almost a
prehistoric record of greatness.
Marina had left the table and gone to the cabinet; her father followed
her. "This I would show thee," he said, calling her attention to a
whimsical shape, blown and twisted almost into foam. "This Lorenzo Stino
brought me only yesterday; he is full of genius; I think none hath a
quicker hand, nor a more inventive faculty. I have watched him in his
working." He scanned her eagerly as he spoke.
"Yes, it is fanciful--wonderful," she added to please him, but without
warmth, while her eyes wandered over the shelves. "Oh, father, here are
some of the very mosaics that were made for San Marco; thou hast
forgotten!"
She lifted eagerly a small opaque basin of turquoise blue and held it
toward him; it contained a few bits of gold and silver enamel, the
earliest that had been made in Venice, bearing their ancient date.


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