mss 
 
 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME 
 OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT 
 FUND GIVEN IN 1891 BY 
 
 HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PS 1455.M4 
 
 Marzio's crucifix. 
 
 3 1924 021 974 427 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924021974427 
 
MAKZIO'S CEUCIFIX 
 
MAEZIO'S CEUCIPIX 
 
 F. MARION CTvAWFORD 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'MB ISAACS,' ' DR. CLAUDIUS,' ( A ROMAN 6INGER 
 ETC. 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 AND NEW YORK 
 
 1892 
 
 Ml rights reserved 
 
COPYRIGHT 
 
 BV 
 
 F. MARION CRAWFORD 
 
 1SS" 
 
 Press of J. J. Little & Co, 
 Astor Place, New York. 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 "The whole of this modern fabric of existence is a 
 living lie ! " crietl Marzio Pandolfi, striking his little 
 hammer upon the heavy table with an impatient rap. 
 Then he dropped it and turning on his stool rested 
 one elbow upon the board while he clasped his long, 
 nervous fingers together and stared hard at his hand- 
 some apprentice. Gianbattista Bordogni looked up 
 from his work without relinquishing his tools, nodded 
 gravely, stared up at the high window, and then went 
 on hammering gently upon his little chisel, guiding 
 the point carefully among the delicate arabesques 
 traced upon the silver. 
 
 " Yes," he said quietly, after a few seconds, " it is 
 all a lie. But what do you expect, Maestro Marzio ? 
 You might as well talk to, a stone wall as preach 
 liberty to these cowards." 
 
 "Nevertheless, there are some — there are half a 
 
 dozen " muttered Marzio, relapsing into sullen 
 
 discontent and slowly turning the body of the chalice 
 beneath the cord stretched by the pedal on which he 
 
2 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap. I 
 
 pressed his foot. Having brought under his hand a 
 round boss which was to become the head of a cherub 
 under his chisel, he rubbed his fingers over the smooth 
 silver, mechanically, while he contemplated the red 
 wax model before him. Then there was silence for a 
 space, broken only by the quick, irregular striking of 
 the two little hammers upon the heads of the chisels. 
 
 Maestro Marzio Pandolfi was a skilled workman 
 and an artist. He was one of the last of those 
 workers in metals who once sent their masterpieces 
 from Eome to the great cathedrals of the world ; one 
 of the last of the artistic descendants of Caradosso, of 
 Benvenuto Cellini, of Claude Ballin, and of all their 
 successors ; one of those men of rare talent who unite 
 the imagination of the artist with the executive skill 
 of the practised workman. They are hard to find 
 nowadays. Of all the twenty chisellers of various 
 ages who hammered from morning till night in the 
 rooms outside, one only — Gianbattista Bordogni — 
 had been thought worthy by his master to share the 
 privacy of the inner studio. The lad had talent, said 
 Maestro Marzio, and, what was more, the lad had 
 ideas — ideas about life, about the future of Italy, 
 about the future of the world's society. Marzio found 
 in him a pupil, an artist and a follower of his own 
 political creed. 
 
 It was a small room in which they worked together. 
 
chap, t MARZIO S CRUCIFIX 3 
 
 Plain wooden shelves lined two of the walls from 
 the floor to the ceiling. The third was occupied by 
 tables and a door, and in the fourth high grated win- 
 dows were situated, from which the clear light fell 
 upon the long bench before which the two men sat 
 upon high stools. Upon the shelves were numerous 
 models in red wax, of chalices, monstrances, marvel- 
 lous ewers and embossed basins for the ablution of the 
 priests' hands, crucifixes, crowns, palm and olive 
 branches — in a word, models of all those tilings which 
 pertain to the service and decoration of the church, 
 and npon which it has been the privilege of the silver- 
 smith to expend his art and labour from time im- 
 memorial until the present day. There were some 
 few casts in plaster, but almost all were of that deep 
 red, strong-smelling wax which is the most fit medium 
 for the temporary expression and study of very fine 
 and intricate designs. There is something in the very 
 colour which, to one acquainted with the art, suggests 
 beautiful fancies. It is the red of the Tompeian 
 walls, and the rich tint seems to call up the matchless 
 traceries of the ancients. Old chisellers say that no 
 one can model anything wholly bad in red wax, arid 
 there is truth in the saying. The material is old — 
 the older the better ; it has passed under the hand of 
 the artist again and again ; it has taken form, served 
 for the model of a lasting work, been kneaded together 
 
4 MAEZIO'S CtJUCIFIX chap, i 
 
 in a lump, been worked over and over by the box- 
 wood tool. The workman feels that it has absorbed 
 some of the qualities of the master's genius, and 
 touches it with the certainty that its stiff substance 
 will yield new forms of beauty in his lingers, render- 
 ing up some of its latent capacity of shape at each 
 pressure and twist of the deftly-handled instrument; 
 
 At the extremities of the long bench huge iron vices 
 were fixed by staples that ran into the ground. In 
 one of these was fastened the long curved tool which 
 serves to beat out the bosses of hollow and small- 
 necked vessels. Each of the workmen had a pedal 
 beneath his foot from which a soft cord ascended, 
 passed through the table, and pressed the round object 
 on which he was working upon a thick leather cushion, 
 enabling him to hold it tightly in its place, or by 
 lifting his foot to turn it to a new position. In pots 
 full of sand were stuck hundreds of tiny chisels, so 
 that the workmen could select at a glance the exact 
 form of tool needful for the moment. Two or three 
 half balls of heavy stone stood in leathern collars, 
 their flat surfaces upwards and covered with a brown 
 composition of pitch and beeswax an inch thick, in 
 which small pieces of silver were firmly embedded in 
 position to be chiselled. 
 
 The workshop was pervaded by a smell of wax and 
 pitch, mingled with £he curious undefinable odour 
 
CHAP. I MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 5 
 
 exhaled from steel tools in constant use, and supple- 
 mented by the fumes of Marzio's pipe. The red 
 bricks in the portion of the floor where the two men 
 sat were rubbed into hollows, but the dust had been 
 allowed to accumulate freely in the rest of the room, 
 and the dark corners were full of cobwebs which had 
 all the air of being inhabited by spiders of formidable 
 dimensions. 
 
 Marzio Pandolfi, who bent over his work and busily 
 plied his little hammer during the interval of silence 
 which followed his apprentice's last remark, was the 
 sole owner and master of the establishment. He was 
 forty years of age, thin and dark. His black hair was 
 turning grey at the' temples, and though not long, hung 
 forward over his knitted eyebrows in disorderly locks. 
 He had a strange face. His head, broad enough at 
 the level of the eyes, rose to a high prominence 
 towards the back, while his forehead, which projected 
 forward at the heavy brows, sloped backwards in the 
 direction of the summit. The large black eyes were 
 deep and hollow, and there were broad rings of dark 
 colour around 'them, so that they seemed strangely 
 thrown into relief above the sunken, colourless cheeks. 
 Marzio's nose was long and pointed, very straight, and 
 descending so suddenly from the forehead as to make 
 an angle with the latter the reverse of the one most 
 common in human faces. Seen in profile, the brows 
 
6 IMARZIO'S CRUCIFIX «hap. I 
 
 formed the most prominent point, and the line of the 
 head ran back above, while the line of the nose fell 
 inward from the perpendicular down to the small 
 curved nostrils. The short black moustache was thick 
 enough to hide the lips, though deep furrows sur- 
 rounded the mouth and terminated in a very promi- 
 nent but pointed chin. The whole face expressed 
 unusual qualities and defects ; the gifts of the artist, 
 the tenacity of the workman and the small astuteness 
 of the plebeian were mingled with an appearance of 
 something which was not precisely ideality, but which 
 might easily be fanaticism. 
 
 Marzio was tall and very thin. His limbs seemed 
 to move rather by the impulse of a nervous current 
 within than by any development of normal force in 
 the muscles, and his long and slender fingers, naturally 
 yellow and discoloured by the use of tools and the 
 handling of eements, might have been parts of a 
 machine, for they had none of that look of humanity 
 which one seeks in the hand, and by which one in- 
 stinctively judges the character. He was dressed in a 
 woollen blouse, which hung in odd folds about his 
 emaciated frame, but which betrayed the roundness of 
 his shoulders, and the extreme length of his arms. 
 His apprentice, Gianbattista Bordogni, wore the same 
 costume ; but beyond his clothing he bore no trace of 
 any resemblance to his master. He was not a bad 
 
chap. I MARZIO S CRUCIFIX 7 
 
 type of the young Koman of his class at five-and- 
 twenty years of age. His thick black hair curled all 
 over his head, from his low forehead to the hack of 
 his neck, and his head Avas of a good shape, full and 
 round, broad over the brows and high above the orifice 
 of the ear. His eyes were brown and not over large, 
 but well set, and his nose was slightly aquiline, while 
 his delicate black moustache showed the pleasant 
 curve of his even lips. There was colour in his 
 cheeks, too — that rich colour which dark men some- 
 times have in their youth. He was of middle height, 
 strong and compactly built, with large, well-made 
 hands that seemed to have more power in them, if 
 less subtle skill, than those of Maestro Marzio. 
 
 " Bemember what I told you about the second in- 
 dentation of the acanthus," said the elder workman, 
 without looking round ; " a light, light hand — no holes 
 in this work {" 
 
 Gianbattista murmured a sort of assent, which 
 showed that the warning was not wanted. He was 
 intent upon the delicate operation he was performing. 
 Again the hammers beat irregularly. 
 t % " The more I think of it," said Marzio after the 
 pause, " the more I am beside myself. To think that 
 you and I should be nailed to our stools .here, week- 
 days and feast-days, to finish a piece of work for a 
 scoundrelly priest " 
 
■8 MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX CUAP. I 
 
 "A cardinal," suggested Gianbattista. 
 
 " Well ! What difference is there ? He is a priest, 
 I suppose — a creature who dresses himself up like a 
 pulcinella before his altar — to '' 
 
 " Softly ! " ejaculated the young man, looking round 
 to see whether the door was closed. 
 
 " Why softly ? " asked the other angrily, though his 
 annoyance did not seem to communicate itself to the 
 chisel he held in his hand, and which continued its 
 work as delicately as though its master were humming 
 a pastoral. " Why softly ? An apoplexy on your 
 softness ! The papers speak as loudly as they please 
 — why should I hold my tongue ? A dog-butcher of 
 a priest !" 
 
 " Well," answered Gianbattista in a meditative tone, 
 as he selected another chisel, " he has the money to 
 pay for what he orders. If he had not, we would not 
 work for him, I suppose." 
 
 '" If we had the money, you mean," retorted Marzio. 
 " Why the devil should he have money rather than 
 we 1 Why don't you answer ? Why should he wear 
 silk stockings — red silk stockings, the animal ? Why 
 should he want a silver ewer and basin to wash his 
 hands at his mass ? Why would not an earthen one 
 do as well, such as I use ? Why don't you answer ? 
 Eh ?" 
 
 ' : Why should Prince Borghese live in a palace and 
 
chav. i marzio's crucifix: 9' 
 
 keep scores of horses ? " inquired the young man 
 calmly. 
 
 " Ay — why should he ? Is there any known reason 
 why he should ? Am I not a man as well as he ? 
 Are you not a man — you young donkey ? I hate to 
 think that we, who are artists, who can work when 
 we are put to it, have to slave for such fellows as 
 that — -mumbling priests, bloated princes, a pack of 
 fools who are incapable of an idea ! An idea ! What' 
 am I saying ? Who have not the common intelli- 
 gence of a cabbage-seller in the street ! And look at 
 the work we give them — the creation of our minds, 
 the labour of our hands " 
 
 " They give us their money in return," observed 
 Gianbattista. "The ancients, whom you are so fond 
 Of -talking about, used to get. their work done by slaves 
 chained to the bench " 
 
 " Yes ! And it has taken us two thousand years to- 
 get to the .point we have reached ! Two thousand 
 years — and what is it ? Are we any better than 
 slaves, except that we work better?" 
 
 " I doubt whether we work better." 
 
 " What is the matter with you this morning ? " cried 
 Marzio. " Have you been sneaking into some church 
 on your way here ? ■. Pah ! You smell of the sacristy ! 
 Has Paolo been here ? Oh, to think that a brother of 
 mine should be a priest ! It is not to be believed ! " 
 
10 MAEZIOS CEUCIFIX- CHAP. I 
 
 ** It is the irony of fate. Moreover, he gets you 
 plenty of orders." 
 
 " Yes, and ho doubt he takes his percentage on the 
 price. He had a new cloak last month, and he asked 
 me to make him a pair of silver buckles for his shoes. 
 Pretty, that — an artist's brother with silver buckles ! 
 I told him to go to the devil, his father, for his orna- 
 ments. Why does he not steal an old pair from the 
 cardinal, his bondmaster ? Not good enough, I sup- 
 pose — beast !" 
 
 Marzio laid aside his hammer and chisel, and lit 
 the earthen pipe with the rough wooden stem that lay 
 beside him. Then he examined the beautiful head of 
 the angel he had been making upon the body of the 
 ewer. He touched it lovingly, loosed the cord, and 
 lifted the piece from the pad, turning it towards the 
 light and searching critically for any defect in the. 
 modelling of the little face. He replaced it on the 
 table, and selecting a very fine -pointed punch, laid 
 down his pipe for a moment and set about putting the 
 tiny pupils into the eyes. Two touches were enough.; 
 He began smoking again, and contemplated what he 
 had done. It was the body of a large silver ewer of 
 which Gianbattista was ornamenting the neck and 
 mouth, which were of a separate piece. Amongst the 
 intricate arabesques little angels' heads were embossed, 
 and on one side a group of cherubs was bearing a 
 
CHAP, t MABZIO'S CRUCIFIX" 11 
 
 " monstrance " -with the sacred Host through silver 
 clouds. A hackneyed subject on church vessels, but 
 which had taken wonderful beauty under the skilled 
 fingers of the artist, who sat cursing the priest who 
 was to use it, while expending his best talents on its 
 perfections. 
 
 " It is not bad," he said rather doubtfully. " Come 
 and look at it, Tista," he added. The young man left 
 his place and came and bent over his master's shoulder, 
 examining the piece with admiration. It was charac- 
 teristic of Marzio that he asked his apprentice's opinion. 
 He was an artist, and had the chief peculiarities of 
 artists — namely, diffidence concerning what he had 
 done, and impatience of the criticism of others, to- 
 gether with a strong desire to show his work as soon 
 as it was presentable. 
 
 " It is a masterpiece 1 " exclaimed Gianbattista. 
 " What detail ! I shall never be able to finish any- 
 thing like that cherub's face !" 
 
 " Do you think it is as good as the one I made last 
 year, Tista ? " 
 
 " Better," returned the young man confidently. " It 
 is the best you have ever made. I am quite sure of 
 it. You should always work when you are in a bad 
 humour ; you are so successful ! " 
 
 " Bad humour I I am always in a bad humour," 
 grumbled Marzio, rising and walking about the brick 
 
12 HTAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, i 
 
 floor, while he puffed clouds of acrid smoke from his' 
 coarse pipe. " There is enough in this world to keep 
 a man in a bad humour all his life." 
 
 " I might say that," answered Gianbattista, turning 
 round on his stool and watching his master's angular 
 movements as he rapidly paced the room. " I might, 
 abuse fate— but you ! You are rich, married, a father, 
 a great artist ! " 
 
 " "What stuff ! " interrupted Marzio, standing still 
 with his long legs apart, and folding his arms as he 
 spoke through his teeth, between which he still held 
 his pipe. "Puch? Yes — able to have a good coat 
 for feast-days, meat when I want it, and my brother's 
 company when I don't want it — for a luxury, you 
 know ! Able to take my wife to Frascati on the last 
 Thursday of October as a great holiday. My wife, 
 too ! A creature of beads and saints and little books 
 with crosses on them — who would leer at a friar 
 through the grating of a confessional, and who makes 
 the house hideous with her howling if I choose to eat 
 a bit of pork on a Friday ! A good wife indeed ! A 
 jewel of a wife, and an apoplexy on all such jewels ! 
 A nice wife, who has a face like a head from a tomb- 
 stone in the Campo Varano for her husband, and who 
 has brought up her daughter to believe that her father 
 is condemned to everlasting flames because he hates 
 cod-fish — salt cod-fish soaked in water ! A wife who . 
 
chap. I MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 13 
 
 sticks images in the lining of my hat to convert me, 
 and sprinkles holy water on me when she thinks 
 I am asleep, hut I caught her at that the other 
 night— — — " 
 
 "Indeed, they say the devil does not like holy 
 water." remarked Gianhattista, laucrhin" 
 
 "And you want to marry my daughter, you young 
 fool," continued Marzio, not heeding the interruption. 
 " You do. I will tell you what she is like. My 
 daughter — yes ! — she has fine eyes, but she has the 
 tongue of the — — " 
 
 " Of her father," suggested Gianhattista, suddenly 
 frowning. 
 
 " Yes — of her father, without her father's sense," 
 cried Marzio angrily. " "With her eyes, those fine eyes ! 
 — those eyes ! — you want to marry her. If you wish 
 to take her away, you may, and good riddance. I 
 want no daughter ; there are too many women in the 
 world already. They and the priests do all the harm 
 between them, because the priests know how to think 
 too well, and women never think at all. I wish you 
 good luck of your marriage and ' of your wife. If you 
 were my son you would never have thought of getting 
 married. The mere idea of it made you send .your 
 chisel through a cherub's eye last week and cost an 
 hour's time for repairing. Is that the Way to look at 
 the great question of humanity ? Ali ! if I were only 
 
14 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, i 
 
 a deputy in the Chambers, I would teach you the 
 philosophy of all that rubbish ! " 
 
 " I thought you said the other day that you would 
 not have any deputies at all," observed the apprentice, 
 playing with his hammer. 
 
 " Such as these are — no ! A few of them I would 
 put into the acid bath, as I would a casting, to clean 
 them before chiselling them down. They might be 
 good for something then. You must begin by knock- 
 ing down, boy, if you want to build up. You must 
 knock down everything, raze the existing system to 
 the ground, and upon the place where it stood shall 
 rise the mighty temple of immortal liberty." 
 
 " And who will buy your chalices and monstrances 
 under the new order of things ? " inquired Gianbattista 
 coldly. 
 
 " The foreign market," returned Marzio. " Italy 
 shall be herself again, as she was in the days of 
 Michael Angelo ; of Leonardo, who died in the arms 
 of a king ; of Cellini, who shot a prince from the walls 
 of Saint Angelo. Italy shall be great, shall mono- 
 polise the trade, the art, the greatness of all creation !" 
 
 "A lucrative monopoly!" exclaimed the young 
 man. 
 
 " Monopolies ! There shall be no monopolies ! 
 The free artisan shall sell what he can make. ana! 
 buy what he pleases. The priests shall be Jurned 
 
chap. I MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 15 
 
 out in chain gangs and build roads for our conveni- 
 ence, and the superfluous females shall all be deported 
 to the glorious colony of Massowah ! If I could but 
 be absolute master of this country for a week I could 
 do much." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it," answered Gianbattista, with 
 a quiet smile. 
 
 " I should think not," assented Marzio proudly ; 
 then catching sight of the expression on the young 
 man's face, he turned sharply upon him. " You are 
 mocking me, you good-for-nothing !" he cried angrily. 
 "You are laughing at me, at your master, you villain, 
 you wretch, you sickly hound, you priest-ridden worm ! 
 It is intolerable ! It is the first time you have ever 
 dared; do you think I am going to allow you to 
 think for yourself after all the pains I have taken to 
 educate you, to teach you my art, you ungrateful 
 reptile ?" 
 
 "If you were not such a great artist I would have 
 left you long ago," answered the apprentice. '"' Besides, 
 I believe in your principles. It is your expression of 
 them that makes me laugh now and then ; I think you 
 go too far sometimes ! " 
 
 " As if any one had ever gone far enough !" ex- 
 claimed Marzio, somewhat pacified, for his moods were 
 very quick. " Since there are still men who are richer 
 than others, it is a sign that we have not gone to the 
 
16 MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. I 
 
 end — to the great end in which we believe. I am 
 sure you believe in it too, Tista, don't you 1" 
 
 " Oh yes — in the end — certainly. Do not let us 
 quarrel about the means, Maestro Marzio. I must do 
 another leaf before dinner." 
 
 "I will get in another cherub's nose," said his 
 master, preparing to relight his pipe for a whiff 
 before going to work again. " Body of a dog, these 
 priests !" he grumbled, as he attacked the next angel 
 on the ewer with matchless dexterity and steadiness. 
 A long pause followed the animated discourse of the 
 chiseller. Both men were intent upon their work, 
 . alternately holding their breath for the delicate strokes, 
 and breathing more freely as the chisel reached the 
 end of each tiny curve. 
 
 " I think you said a little while ago that I might 
 marry Lucia," observed Gianbattista, without looking 
 up, " that is, if I would take her away !" 
 
 " And if you take her away," retorted the other, 
 " where will you get bread ?" 
 
 "Where I get it now. I could live somewhere 
 else and come here to work ; it seems simple enough." 
 
 " It seems simple, but it is not,'' replied Marzio. 
 " Perhaps you could try and get Paolo's commissions 
 away from me, and then set up a studio for yourself; 
 but I doubt whether you could succeed. I am not old 
 yet, nor blind, nor shaky, thank God !"' 
 
CHAP. I MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX .1*1 
 
 " I did not catch the last words/' said Gianbattista, 
 hiding his smile over his work. 
 
 " I said I was not old, nor broken down yet, thanks 
 to my strength," growled the chiseller ; " you will not 
 steal my commissions yet awhile. What is the matter 
 with you to-day ? You find fault with half I say, and 
 the other half you do not hear at all. You seem to 
 have lost your head, Tista. Be steady over those 
 acanthus leaves ; everybody thinks an acanthus leaf is 
 the easiest thing in the world, whereas it is one of the 
 most difficult before you get to figures. Most chisellers 
 seem to copy their acanthus leaves from the cabbage 
 in their soup. They work as though they had never 
 seen the plant growing. When the Greeks began to 
 carve Corinthian capitals, they must have worked from 
 real leaves, as I taught you to model when you were a 
 boy. Few things are harder than a good acanthus leaf." 
 
 " I should think women could do the delicate part 
 of our work very well," said the apprentice, returning 
 to the subject from which Marzio was evidently trying 
 to lead him. " Lucia has such very clever fingers." 
 
 " Idiot !" muttered Marzio between his teeth, not 
 deigning to make any further answer. 
 
 The distant boom of a gun broke upon the silence 
 that followed, and immediately the bells of all the 
 neighbouring churches rang out in quick succession. 
 It was midday. 
 
18 MARZIO S CRUCIFIX chap. I 
 
 " I did not expect to finish that nose," said Marzio, 
 rising from his stool. He was a punctual man, who 
 exacted punctuality in others, and in spite of his thin 
 frame and nervous ways, he loved his dinner. In five 
 minutes all the men had left the workshop, and Marzio 
 and his apprentice stood in the street, the former lock- 
 ing the heavy door with a lettered padlock, while the 
 younger man sniffed the fresh spring air that blew from 
 the west out of the square of San Carlo a Catenari 
 down the Via dei Falegnami in which the establish- 
 ment of the silver-chiseller was situated. 
 
 As Marzio fumbled with the fastenings of the door, 
 two women came up and stopped. Marzio had his 
 back turned, and Gianbattista touched his hat in 
 silence. The younger of the two was a stdut, black- 
 haired woman of eight-and-thirty years, dressed in a 
 costume of dark green cloth, which fitted very closely 
 to her exuberantly-developed bust, and was somewhat 
 too elaborately trimmed with imitation of jet and black 
 ribands. A high bonnet, decorated with a bunch of 
 purple glass grapes and dark green leaves, surmounted 
 the lady's massive head, and though carefully put on 
 and neatly tied, seemed too small for the wearer. Her 
 ears were adorned by long gold earrings, in each of 
 which were three large garnets, and these trinkets 
 dangled outside and over the riband of the bonnet, 
 which passed under her chin. In her large hands, 
 
chap. I MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 19 
 
 covered with tight black gloves, she carried a dark red 
 parasol and a somewhat shabby little black leather bag 
 with steel fastenings. The stout lady's face was of the 
 type common among the Eoman women of the lower 
 class — very broad and heavy, of a creamy white com- 
 plexion, the upper lip shaded by a dark fringe of down, 
 and the deep sleepy eyes surmounted by heavy straight 
 eyebrows. Her hair, brought forward from under her 
 bonnet, made smooth waves upon her low forehead and 
 reappeared in thick coils at the back of her neck. Her 
 nose was relatively small, but too thick and broad at 
 the nostrils, although it departed but little from the 
 straight line' of the classic model. Altogether the 
 Signora Pandolfi, christened Maria Luisa, and wife to 
 Marzio the silver-chiseller, was a portly and pompous- 
 looking person, , who wore an air of knowing her 
 position, and of being sure to maintain it. Neverthe- 
 less, there was a kindly expression in her fat face, and 
 if her eyes looked sleepy they did not look dishonest. 
 
 Signora Pandolfi's companion was her old maid- 
 of-all-work, Assunta, commonly called Suntarella, with- 
 out whom she rarely stirred abroad- — a little old 
 woman, in neat but dingy-coloured garments, with 
 a grey woollen shawl drawn over her head like a cowl, 
 instead of a bonnet. 
 
 Marzio finished fastening the door, and then turned 
 round. On seeing his wife he remained silent for a 
 
20 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chat, i 
 
 moment, looking at her with an expression of dis^ 
 satisfied inquiry. He had not expected her. 
 
 "Well?" he ejaculated at last. 
 
 " It is dinner time," remarked the stout lady. 
 
 " Yes, I heard the gun," answered Marzio drily. 
 " It is the same as if you had told me," he added 
 ironically, as he turned and led the way across the 
 street. 
 
 "A pretty answer !" exclaimed Maria Luisa, tossing 
 her large head as she followed her lord and master to 
 the door of their house. Meanwhile Assunta, the old 
 servant, glanced at Gianhattista, rolled up her eyes 
 with an air of resignation, and spread out her withered 
 hands for a moment with a gesture of despair, instantly 
 drawing them in again beneath the folds of her grey 
 woollen shawl. 
 
 "Gadding!" muttered Marzio, as he entered the 
 narrow door from which the dark steps led abruptly 
 upwards. " Gadding — always gadding ! And who 
 minds the soup-kettle when you are gadding, I should 
 like to know ? The eat, I suppose ! Oh, these women 
 and their priests ! These priests and these women !" 
 
 "Lucia is minding ilie soup-kettle," gasped Maria 
 Luisa, as she puffed up stairs behind her thin and 
 active husband. 
 
 " Lucia !" cried Marzio angrily, a flight of steps 
 higher. " I suppose you will bring her up to be 
 
CHAP. I MAEZIO'S CKUCIFIX 21 
 
 woman of all work ? Well, she could earn her living 
 then, which is more than you do ! After all, it is 
 better to mind a soup-kettle than to thump a piano 
 and to squeal so that I can hear her in the shop op- 
 posite, and it is better than hanging about the church 
 all the morning, or listening to Paolo's drivelling talk. 
 By all means keep her in the kitchen." 
 
 It was hard to say whether Signora Pandolfi was 
 puffing or sighing as she paused for breath upon the 
 landing, but there was probably something of both in 
 the labour of her lungs. She was used to Marzio. 
 She had lived with him for twenty years, and she 
 knew his moods and his ways, and detected the com- 
 ing storm from afar. Unfortunately, or perhaps for- 
 tunately, for her, there was little variety in the 
 sequence of his ideas. She was accustomed to his 
 beginning at the grumbling stage before dinner, and 
 proceeding by a crescendo movement to the pitch of 
 rage, which was rarely reached until he had finished 
 his meal, when he generally seized his hat and dragged 
 Gianbattista away with him, declaring loudly that 
 women were not fit for human society. The daily 
 excitement of this comedy had long lost its power to 
 elicit anything more than a sigh from the stout Maria 
 Luisa, who generally bore Marzio's unreasonable anger 
 with considerable equanimity, waiting for his departure 
 to eat her boiled beef and salad in peace with Lucia, 
 
22 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX -CHA*. I 
 
 while old Assunta sat by the table with the cat in her 
 lap, putting in a word of commiseration alternately 
 with a word of gossip about the lodgers on the other 
 side of the landing. The latter were a young and 
 happy pair : the husband, a chorus singer at the Apollo, 
 who worked at glove cleaning during the day time ; his 
 wife, a sempstress, who did repairs upon the costumes 
 of the theatre. Their apartments consisted of two 
 rooms and a kitchen, while Marzio and his family 
 occupied the rest of the floor, and entered their lodg- 
 ing by the opposite door. 
 
 Maria Luisa envied the couple in her sleepy fashion. 
 Her husband was indeed comparatively rich, and though 
 economical in his domestic arrangements, he had money 
 in the bank enough to keep him comfortably for the 
 rest of his days. His violence did not extend beyond 
 words and black looks, and he was not miserly about 
 a few francs for dress, or a dinner at the Falcone two 
 or three times a year. But in the matter of domestic 
 peace his conduct left much to be desired. He was a 
 sober man, but his hours were irregular, for he attended 
 the meetings of a certain club which Maria Luisa held 
 in abhorrence, and brought back opinions which made 
 her cross herself with her fat fingers, shuddering at the 
 things he said. As for Gianbattista Bordogni, who 
 lived with them, and consequently received most of 
 his wages in the shape of board and lodging, he loved 
 
CHAP. I maezio's CKUCIFIX 23 
 
 Lucia Pandolfi, bis masters daughter, and "though, he 
 shared Marzio's opinions, he held his tongue in the 
 house. He understood how necessary to him the 
 mother's sympathy must be, and, with subtle intelli- 
 gence, he knew how to create a contrast between 
 himself and his master by being reticent at the right 
 moment. 
 
 Lucia opened the door in answer to the bell her 
 father had rung, and stood aside in the narrow way to 
 let members of the household pass by, one by one. 
 Lucia M'as seventeen years old, and probably resembled 
 her mother as the latter had looked at the same a"e. 
 
 O 
 
 She was slight, and tall, and dark, with a quantity of 
 glossy black hair coiled behind her head. Her black 
 eyes had not yet acquired that sleepy look which 
 advancing life and stoutness had put into her mother's, 
 as a sort of sign of the difficulty of quick motion. 
 Her figure was lithe, though she was not a very active 
 girl, and one might have predicted that at forty she, 
 too, would pay her debt to time in pounds of flesh. 
 There are thin people who look as though they could 
 never grow stout, and there are others whose leisurely 
 motion and deliberate step foretells increase of weight. 
 But Gianbattista had not studied these matters of 
 physiological horoscopy. It sufficed him that Lucia 
 Pandolfi was at present a very pretty girl, even 
 beautiful, according to some standards. Her thick 
 
24 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX ICHAP. I 
 
 hair, low forehead, straight classic features, and severe 
 mouth fascinated the handsome apprentice, and the 
 intimacy which had developed between the two during 
 the years of his residence under Marzio's roof, from the 
 time when Lucia was a little girl to the present day, 
 had rendered the transition from friendship to love 
 almost imperceptible to them both. Gianbattista was 
 the last of the party to enter the lodging, and as he 
 paused to shut the door, Lucia was still lingering at 
 the threshold. 
 
 "Hist! They will see!" she protested under her 
 breath. 
 
 " What do I care !" whispered the apprentice, as he 
 kissed her cheek in the dusky passage. Then they 
 followed the rest. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 THAT evening Marzio finished the last cherub's head 
 on the ewer before he left the shop. He had sent 
 Gianbattista home, and had dismissed the men who 
 were working at a huge gilded grating ordered by a 
 Eoman prince for a church he was decorating. Marzio 
 worked on by the light of a strong lamp until the 
 features were all finished and he had indicated the 
 pupils of the eyes with the fine-pointed punch. Then 
 he sat some time at his bench with the beautiful piece 
 of workmanship under his fingers, looking hard at it 
 and straining his eyes to find imperfections that did 
 not exist. At last he laid it down tenderly upon the 
 stuffed leather pad and. stared at the green shade of 
 the lamp, deep in thought. 
 
 The man's nature was in eternal conflict with itself, 
 and he felt as though he were the battle-ground of 
 forces he could neither understand nor control. A 
 true artist in feeling, in the profound cultivation of 
 his tastes, in the laborious patience with which he 
 executed his designs, there was an element in his 
 
2 6 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX chai>. ii 
 
 character and mind which was in direct contradiction 
 with the essence of what art is. If art can he said 
 to depend upon anything except itself, that something 
 is religion. The arts began in religious surroundings, 
 in treating religious subjects, and the history of the 
 world from the time of the early Egyptians has shown 
 that where genius has lost faith in the supernatural, 
 its efforts to produce great works of lasting beauty in 
 the sensual and material atmosphere of another century 
 have produced comparatively insignificant results. The 
 science of silver-chiselling began, so far as this age is 
 concerned, in the church. The tastes of Francis the 
 First directed the attention of the masters of the art 
 to the making of ornaments for his mistresses, and for 
 a time the men who had made chalices for the Vatican 
 succeeded in making jewelry for Madame de Chateau- 
 briand, Madame d'Etampes, and Diane de Poitiers. 
 But the art itself remained in the church, and the 
 marvels of repousse gold and silver to be seen in the 
 church of Notre Dame des Victoires, the masterpieces 
 of Ossani of Home, could not Lave been produced by 
 any goldsmith who made jewelry for a living. 
 
 Marzio Pandolfi knew all this better than any one, 
 and he could no more have separated himself from 
 his passion for making chalices and crucifixes than he 
 could have changed the height of his stature or the 
 colour of his eyes. But at the same time he hated 
 
t'DAf. II MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 27 
 
 the church, the priests, and every one who -was to use 
 the beautiful things over which he spent so much 
 time and labour. Had he been indifferent, a careless, 
 good-natured sceptic, he would have been a bad artist. 
 As it was, the very violence of his hatred lent spirit 
 and vigour to his eye and hand. He was willing to 
 work upon the figure, perfecting every detail of ex- 
 pression, until he fancied he could feel and see the 
 silver limbs of the dead Christ suffering upon the 
 cross under the diabolical skill of his long fingers. 
 The monstrous horror of the thought made him work 
 marvels, and the fancied realisation of an idea that 
 would startle even a hardened unbeliever, lent a 
 feverish impulse to this strange man's genius. 
 
 As for the angels on the chalices, he did not hate 
 them ; on the contrary, he saw in them the reflection 
 of those vague images of loveliness and innocence 
 which haunt every artist's soul at times, and the mere 
 manual skill necessary to produce expression in things 
 so minute, fascinated a mind accustomed to cope with 
 difficulties, and so inured to them as almost to love 
 them. 
 
 Nevertheless, when a man is constantly a prey to 
 strong emotions, his nature cannot long remain un- 
 changed. The conviction had been growing in Marzio's 
 mind that it was his duty, for the sake of consistency, 
 to abandon his trade. The thought saddened him, 
 
28 MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. II 
 
 but the conclusion seemed inevitable. It was absurd, 
 he repeated to himself, that one who hated the priests 
 should work for them. Marzio was a fanatic in his 
 theories, but he had something of the artist's sim- 
 plicity in his idea of the way they should be carried 
 out. He would have thought it no harm to kill a 
 priest, but it seemed to him contemptible to receive 
 a priest's money for providing the church with vessels 
 which were to serve in a worship he despised. 
 
 Moreover, he was not poor. Indeed, he was richer 
 than any one knew, and the large sums paid for his 
 matchless work went straight from the workshop to 
 the bank, while Marzio continued to live in the simple 
 lodgings to which he had first brought home his wife, 
 eighteen years before, when he was but a young partner 
 in the establishment he now owned. As he sat at the 
 bench, looking from his silver ewer to the green lamp- 
 shade, he was asking himself whether he should not give 
 up this life of working for people he hated and launch 
 into that larger work of political agitation, for which 
 he fancied himself so well fitted. He looked forward 
 into an imaginary future, and saw himself declaiming 
 in the Chambers against all that existed, rousing the 
 passions of a multitude to acts of destruction — of 
 justice, as he called it in his thoughts — and ' leading 
 a vast army of angry men up the steps of the Capitol 
 to proclaim himself the champion of the rights of 
 
CHAP. II MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 29 
 
 man against the rights of kings. His eyelids con- 
 tracted and the concentrated light of his eyes was 
 reduced to two tiny bright specks in the midst of the 
 pupils ; his nervous hand went out and the fingers 
 clutched the jaws of the iron vice beside him as he 
 would have wished to grapple with the jaws of the 
 beast oppression, which in his dreams seemed ever 
 tormenting the poor world in which he lived. 
 
 There was something lacking in his face, even in 
 that moment of secret rage as he sat alone in his 
 workroom before the lamp. There was the frenzy 
 of the fanatic, the exaltation of the dreamer, clearly 
 expressed upon his features, but there was something 
 wanting. There was everything there except the 
 force to accomplish, the initiative which oversteps the 
 bank of words, threats, and angry thoughts, and 
 plunges boldly into the stream, ready to sacrifice it- 
 self to lead others. The look of power, of stern de- 
 termination, which is never absent from the faces of 
 men who change their times, was not visible in the 
 thin dark countenance of the silver-chiseller. Marzio 
 was destined never to rise above the common howling 
 mob which he aspired to lead. 
 
 This fact asserted itself outwardly as he sat there. 
 After a few minutes the features relaxed, a smile that 
 was almost weak — the smile that shows that a man 
 lacks absolute confidence — passed quickly over his 
 
30 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap. 11 
 
 face, the light in his eyes went out, and he rose from 
 his stool with a short, dissatisfied sigh, which was re- 
 peated once or twice as he put away his Work and 
 arranged his tools. He made the rounds of the work- 
 shop, looked to the fastenings of the windows, lighted 
 a taper, and then extinguished the lamp. He threw a 
 loose overcoat over his shoulders without passing his 
 arms through the sleeves, and went out into the street. 
 Glancing up at the windows of his house opposite, 
 he saw that the lights were hurning brightly, and he 
 guessed that his wife and daughter were waiting for 
 him before sitting down to supper. 
 
 " Let them wait," he muttered with a surly grin, as 
 he put out the taper and went down the street in the 
 opposite direction. 
 
 He turned the street corner by the dark Palazzo 
 Antici Mattei, and threaded the narrow streets towards 
 the Pantheon and the Piazza Sant' Eustachio. The 
 weather had changed, and the damp south-east wind 
 was blowing fiercely behind him. The pavement was 
 wet and slippery with the strange thin coating of 
 greasy mud which sometimes appears suddenly hi 
 Pome even when it has not rained. The insufficient 
 gas lamps flickered in the wind as though they would 
 go out, and the few pedestrians who hurried along 
 clung closely to the wall as though it offered them 
 some protection from the moist scirocco. The great 
 
CHAP. II MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 31 
 
 doors of the palaces were most of them closed, but 
 here and there a little red light announced a wine- 
 shop, and as Marzio passed by he could see through 
 the dirty panes of glass dark figures sitting in a murky 
 atmosphere over bottles of coarse wine. The streets 
 were foul with the nauseous smell of decaying vege- 
 tables and damp walls which the south-east wind 
 brings out of the older parts of Eome, and while few 
 voices were heard in the thick air, the clatter of horses' 
 hoofs on the wet stones rattled loudly from the 
 thoroughfares which lead to the theatres. It was a 
 dismal night, but Marzio Pandolfi felt that his temper 
 was in tune with the weather as he tramped along 
 towards the Pantheon. 
 
 The streets widened as he n eared his destination, 
 and he drew his overcoat more closely about his neck. 
 Presently he reached a small door close to Sant' Eus- 
 tachio, one of the several entrances to the ancient 
 Falcone, an inn which has existed for centuries upon 
 the same spot, in the same house, and which affords a 
 rather singular variety of accommodation. Down stairs, 
 upon the square, is a modern restaurant with plate- 
 glass windows, marble floor, Vienna cane chairs, and a 
 general appearance of luxury. A flight of steps leads 
 to an upper story, where there are numerous rooms of 
 every shape and dimension, furnished with old-fashioned 
 Italian simplicity, though with considerable cleanli- 
 
32 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, ii 
 
 ness. Thither resort the large companies of regular 
 guests who have eaten their meals there during most of 
 their lives. But there is much more room in the house 
 than appears. The vast kitchen on the ground floor ter- 
 minates in a large space, heavily vaulted and lighted by 
 oil lamps, where rougher tables are set and spread, and 
 where you may see the well-to-do wine-carter eating 
 his supper after his journey across the Campagna, in 
 company with some of his city acquaintances of a 
 similar class. In dark corners huge wine-casks present 
 their round dusty faces to the doubtful light, the smell 
 of the kitchen pervades everything, tempered by the 
 smell of wine from the neighbouring cellars ; the floor 
 is of rough stone worn by generations of cooks, potboys, 
 and guests. Beyond this again a short flight of steps 
 leads to a narrow doorway, passing through which one 
 enters the last and most retired chamber of the huge 
 inn. Here there is barely room for a dozen persons, 
 and when all the places are full the bottles and dishes 
 are passed from the door by the guests themselves 
 over each other's heads, for there is no room to move 
 about in the narrow space. The walls are whitewashed 
 and the tables are as plain as the chairs, but the food 
 and drink that are consumed there are the best that 
 the house affords, and the society, from the point of 
 view of Marzio Fandolfi and his friends, is of the 
 most agreeable. 
 
chap. II MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 33 
 
 The chiseller took his favourite seat in the corner 
 furthest from the window. Two or three men of 
 widely different types were already at the table, and 
 Marzio exchanged a friendly nod with each. One was 
 a florid man of large proportions, dressed in the height 
 of the fashion and with scrupulous neatness. He was a 
 jeweller. Another, a lawyer with a keen and anxious 
 face, wore a tightly-buttoned frock coat and a black 
 tie. Immense starched cuffs covered his bony hands 
 and part of his fingers. He was supping on a salad, 
 into which he from time to time poured an additional 
 dose of vinegar. A third man, with a round hat on 
 one side of his head, and who wore a very light- 
 coloured overcoat, displaying a purple scarf with a 
 showy pin at the neck, held a newspaper in one hand 
 and a fork in the other, with which he slowly ate 
 mouthfuls of a ragout of wild boar. He was a jour- 
 nalist on the staff of an advanced radical paper. 
 
 "Halloa, Sor Marzio !" cried this last guest, suddenly 
 looking up from the sheet he was reading, "here is 
 news of your brother." 
 
 "What?" asked. Marzio briefly, but as though the 
 matter were utterly indifferent to him. " Has he killed 
 anybody, the assassin ?" The journalist laughed 
 hoarsely at the jest. 
 
 " Not so bad as that," he answered. " He is getting 
 advancement. They are going to make him a canon 
 
 D 
 
34 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, ii 
 
 of Santa Maria Maggiore. It is in the Osservatore 
 Romano of this evening." 
 
 " He is good for nothing else," growled Marzio. 
 " It is just like him not to have told me anything 
 about it." 
 
 " With the sympathy which exists between you, I 
 am surprised," said the journalist. "After all, you 
 might convert him, and then he would be useful. He 
 will be an archdeacon next, and then a bishop — who 
 knows ? — perhaps a cardinal !" 
 
 " You might as well talk of converting the horses 
 on Monte Cavallo as of making Paolo change his 
 mind," replied Pandolfi, beginning to sip the white 
 wine he had ordered. " You don't know him — he is 
 an angel, my brother ! Ob, quite an angel ! I wish 
 somebody would send him to heaven, where he is so 
 anxious to be !" 
 
 " Look out, Marzio !" exclaimed the lawyer, glancing 
 from the vinegar cruet towards the door and then at 
 his friend. 
 
 " No such luck," returned the chiseller. " Nothing 
 ever happens to those black-birds. When we get as 
 far as hanging them, my dear brother will happen to 
 be in Paris instead of in Rome. You might as well 
 try to catch a street cat by calling to it micio, initio ! 
 as try and catch a priest. You may as well expect to 
 kill a mule by kicking it as one of those animals. 
 
chap, ii MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 35 
 
 Burn the Vatican over their heads and think you have 
 destroyed them like a wasps' nest, they will write you 
 a letter from Berlin the next day saying that they are 
 alive and well, and that Prince Bismarck protests 
 against your proceedings." 
 
 " Bravo, Sor Marzio !" cried the journalist. " I will 
 put that in the paper to-morrow— it is a fine fulmina- 
 tion. You always refresh my ideas — why will you 
 not write an article for us in that strain? I will 
 publish it as coming from a priest who has given up 
 his orders, married, and opened a wine-shop in Naples. 
 What an effect ! Magnificent ! Do go on !" 
 
 Marzio did not need a second invitation to proceed 
 upon his favourite topic. He was soon launched, and 
 as the little room filled, his pale and sunken cheeks 
 grew red with excitement, his tongue was unloosed, 
 and he poured out a continuous stream of blasphemous 
 ribaldry such as would have shocked the ears of a 
 revolutionist of the year '89 or of a pdtrolev.se of the 
 nineteenth century. It seemed as though the spring 
 once opened would never dry. His eyes flashed, his 
 fingers writhed convulsively on the table, and his 
 voice rang out, ironical and cutting, with strange 
 intonations that roused strange feelings in his hearers. 
 It was the old subject, but he found something new 
 to say upon it at each meeting with his friends, and 
 they wondered where he got the imagination to 
 
36 MAUZIC-'S CRUCIFIX chap, ii 
 
 construct his telling phrases and specious, virulent 
 arguments. 
 
 We have all wondered at such men. They are the 
 outcome of this age and of no previous time, as it is 
 also to be hoped that their like may not arise hereafter. 
 They are found everywhere, these agitators, with their 
 excited faces, their nervous utterances, and their furious 
 hatred of all that is. They find their way into the parlia- 
 ments of the world, into the dining-rooms of the rich, 
 into the wine-shops of the working men, into the press 
 even, and some of their works are published by great 
 houses and read by great ladies, if not by great men. 
 Suddenly, when we least expect it, a flaming advertisement 
 announces a fiery tirade against all that the great mass of 
 mankind hold in honour, if not in reverence. Curiosity 
 drives thousands to read what is an insult to humanity, 
 and even though the many are disgusted, some few 
 are found to admire a rhetoric which exalts their own 
 ignorance to the right of judging God. And still the 
 few increase and grow to be a root and send out shoots 
 and creepers like an evil plant, so that grave men say 
 among themselves that if there is to be a universal 
 war in our times or hereafter it will be fought by 
 Christians of all denominations defending themselves 
 against those who are not Christians. 
 
 Marzio sat long at his table, and his modest pint 
 of wine was enough to moisten his throat throughout 
 
CHAP, ii MAEZIO'S CKUCIFIX 37 
 
 the time during which he held forth. When the 
 liquor was finished he rose, took down his overcoat 
 from the peg on which it hung, pushed his soft hat 
 over his eyes, and with a sort of triumphant wave of 
 the hand, saluted his friends and left the room. He 
 was a perfectly sober man, and no power would have 
 induced him to overstep the narrow limit he allowed 
 to his taste. Indeed, he did not care for wine itself, 
 and still less for any excitement it produced in his 
 brain. He ordered his half-litre as a matter of respect 
 for the house, as he called it, and it served to wet his 
 throat while he was talking. Water would have done 
 as well. Consumed by the intensity of his hatred for 
 the things he attacked, he needed no stimulant to 
 increase his exaltation. 
 
 When he was gone, there was silence in the room 
 for some few minutes. Then the journalist burst into 
 a loud laugh. 
 
 "If we only had half a dozen fellows like 
 that in the Chambers, all talking at once !" he 
 cried. 
 
 " They would be kicked into the middle of Monte- 
 citorio in a quarter of an hour," answered the thin 
 voice of the lawyer. " Our friend Marzi'o is slightly 
 mad, but he is a good fellow in theory. In practice 
 that sort of thing must be dropped into public life 
 a little at a time, as one drops vinegar into a salad, 
 
38 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, ii 
 
 on each leaf. If you don't, all the vinegar goes to the 
 bottom together, and smells horribly sour.'' 
 
 While Marzio was holding forth to his friends, the 
 family circle in the Via dei Falegnami was enjoying a 
 very pleasant evening in his absence. The Signora 
 Pandolfi presided at supper in a costume which lacked 
 elegance, but ensured comfort — the traditional skirt 
 and white cotton jacket of the Italian housewife. 
 Lucia wore the same kind of dress, but with less 
 direful effects upon her appearance. Gianbattista, as 
 usual after working hours, was arrayed in clothes 
 of fashionable cut, aiming at a distant imitation of the 
 imaginary but traditional English tourist. A murder- 
 ous collar supported his round young chin, and a very 
 stiffly-constructed pasteboard-lined tie was adorned by 
 an exquisite silver pin of his own workmanship — the 
 only artistic thing about him. 
 
 Besides these members of the family, there was a 
 fourth person at supper, the person whom, of all others, 
 Marzio detested, Paolo Pandolfi, his brother the priest, 
 commonly called Don Paolo. He deserves a word of 
 description, for there was in his face a fleeting resem- 
 blance to Marzio, which might easily have led a 
 stranger to believe that there was a similarity between 
 their characters. Tall, like his brother, the priest was 
 a little less thin, and evidently far less nervous. The 
 expression of his face was thoughtful, and the deep, 
 
chap, n MAEZIOS CRUCIFIX 39 
 
 heavily-ringed eyes were like Marzio's, but the fore- 
 head was broader, and the breadth ascended higher in 
 the skull, which was clearly defined by the short, 
 closely-cropped hair and the smooth tonsure at the 
 back. The nose was larger and of more noble shape, 
 and Paolo's complexion was less yellow than his 
 brother's ; the features were not surrounded by fur- 
 rows or lines, and the leanness of the priest's face 
 threw them into relief. The clean shaven upper lip 
 showed a kind and quiet mouth, which smiled easily 
 and betrayed a sense of humour, but was entirely free 
 from any suggestion of cruelty. Don Paolo was 
 scrupulous of his appearance, and his cassock and 
 mantle were carefully brushed, and his white collar 
 was immaculately clean. His hands were of the 
 student type — white, square at the tips, lean, and 
 somewhat knotty. 
 
 Marzio, in his ill-humour, had no doubt nattered 
 himself that his family. would wait for him for supper. 
 But his family had studied him and knew his ways. 
 When he was not punctual, he seldom came at all, 
 and a quarter of an hour was considered sufficient to 
 decide the matter. 
 
 " What are we waiting to do ? " exclaimed Maria 
 Luisa, in the odd Italian idiom. " Marzio is in his 
 humours — he must have gone to his friends. Ah ! 
 those friends of his ! " she sighed. " Let us sit clown 
 
40 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX ohap. ii 
 
 to supper," she added ; and, from her tone, the idea of 
 supper seemed to console her for her husband's absence. 
 
 " Perhaps he guessed that I was coming," remarked 
 Don Paolo, with a smile. " In that case he will be a 
 little nervous with me when he comes back. With 
 your leave, Maria Luisa," he added, by way of an- 
 nouncing that he would say grace. He gave the short 
 Latin benediction, during which Gianbattista never 
 looked away from Lucia's face. The boy fancied she 
 was never so beautiful as when she stood with her 
 -hands folded and her eyes cast down. 
 
 " Marzio does not know what I have come for," 
 'began Don Paolo again, as they all sat down to the 
 •square table in the little room. " If he knew, perhaps 
 he might have been here-^though perhaps he would 
 not care very much after all. You all ask what it is ? 
 Yes : I will tell you. His Eminence has obtained for 
 nie the canonry that was vacant at Santa Maria Mag- 
 .giore " 
 
 At this announcement everybody sprang up and 
 embraced Don Paolo, and overwhelmed him with con- 
 gratulations, reproaching him at the same time for 
 having kept the news so long to himself. 
 
 "Of course, I shall continue to work with the Car- 
 dinal," said the priest, when the family gave him time 
 to speak. " But it is a great honour. I have other 
 news for Marzio — " 
 
CHAP. II MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 41 
 
 " I imagine that you did not count upon the canonry 
 as a means of pleasing him," remarked the Signora 
 Pandolfi, with a smile. 
 
 " No, indeed," laughed Lucia. " Poor papa — he 
 would rather see you sent to be a curate in Civita 
 Lavinia ! " 
 
 " Dear me ! I fear so/' answered Don Paolo, with 
 a shade of sadness. " But I have a commission for 
 him. The Cardinal has ordered another crucifix, which 
 he desires should be Marzio's masterpiece — silver, of 
 course, and large. It must he altogether the finest 
 thing he has ever made, when it is finished." 
 
 " I daresay he will be very much pleased," said 
 Maria Luisa y smiling comfortably. 
 
 " I wish he could make the figure solid, cast and 
 chiselled, instead of repousse" remarked Gianbattista, 
 whose powerful hands craved heavy work by instinct. 
 
 " It would be a pity to waste so much silver ; and 
 besides, the effects are never so light," said Lucia, who, 
 like most artists' daughters, knew something of her 
 father's work. 
 
 " What is a little silver, more or less, to the Car- 
 dinal ? " asked Gianbattista, with a little scorn ; but as 
 he met the priest's eye his expression instantly became 
 grave. 
 
 The apprentice was very young; he was not be- 
 yond that age at which, to certain natures, it seems a 
 
42 MABZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, ii 
 
 fine thing to be numbered among such men as Marzio's 
 friends. But at the same time he was not old enough, 
 nor independent enough, to exhibit his feelings on all 
 occasions. Don Paolo exercised a dominant influence 
 in the Pandolfi household. He had the advantage of 
 being calm, grave, and thoroughly in earnest, not easily 
 ruffled nor roused to anger, any more than he was 
 easily hurt. By character sensitive, he bore all small 
 attacks upon himself with the equanimity of a man 
 who believes his cause to be' above the need of defence 
 against little enemies. The result was that he domi- 
 nated his brother's family, and even Marzio himself 
 was not free from a certain subjection which he felt, 
 and which was- one of the most bitter elements in his 
 existence. Don Paolo imposed respect by his quiet 
 dignity, while Marzio asserted himself by speaking 
 loudly and working himself voluntarily into a state of 
 half-assumed angsr. In the contest between quiet 
 force and noisy self-assertion the issue is never doubt- 
 ful. Marzio lacked real power, and he felt it. He 
 could command attention among the circle of his 
 associates who already sympathised with his views,- but 
 in the presence of Paolo he was conscious of struggling 
 against a superior and incomprehensible obstacle, 
 against the cool and unresentful disapprobation of a 
 man stronger than himself. It was many years since 
 he had ventured to talk before his brother as he 
 
CHAP. II MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX «43 
 
 talked when he was alone with Gianbattista, and the 
 latter saw the change that came over his master's 
 manner before the priest, and guessed that Marzio was 
 morally afraid. The somewhat scornful allusion to the 
 Cardinal's supposed wealth certainly did not constitute 
 an attack upon Don Paolo, but Gianbattista neverthe- 
 less felt that he had said something rather foolish, and 
 made haste to ignore his words. The influence could 
 not be escaped. 
 
 It was this subtle power that Marzio resented, for 
 he saw that it was exerted continually, both upon him- 
 self and the members of his household. The chiseller 
 acknowledged to himself that in a great emergency his 
 wife, his daughter, and even Gianbattista Bordogni, 
 would most likely follow the advice of Don Paolo, in 
 spite of his own protests and arguments to the contrary. 
 He fancied that he himself alone was a free agent. He 
 doubted Gianbattista, and began to think that the boy's 
 character would turn out a failure. This was the 
 reason why he no longer encouraged the idea of a 
 marriage between his daughter and his apprentice, a 
 scheme which, somewhat earlier, had been freely dis- 
 cussed. It had seemed an admirable arrangement. 
 The young man promised to turn out a freethinker 
 after Marzio's own heart, and showed a talent for his 
 profession which left nothing to be desired. Some one 
 must be ready to take Marzio's place in the direction 
 
44 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, ii 
 
 of the establishment, and no one could be better fitted 
 to undertake the task than Gianbattista. Lucia would 
 inherit her father's money as the capital for the busi- 
 ness, and her husband should inherit the workshop 
 with all the stock-in-trade. Latterly, however, Marzio 
 had changed his mind, and the idea no longer seemed 
 so satisfactory to him as at first. Gianbattista was 
 evidently falling under the influence of Don Paolo, and 
 that was a sufficient reason for breaking off the match. 
 Marzio hardly realised that as far as his outward 
 deportment in the presence of the priest was concerned, 
 the apprentice was only following his master's example. 
 Marzio had been looking about him for another 
 husband for his daughter, and he had actually selected 
 one from among his most intimate friends. His choice 
 had fallen upon the thin lawyer — by name Gasparo 
 Carnesecchi — who, according to the chiseller's views, 
 was in all respects a most excellent match. A true 
 freethinker, a practising lawyer with a considerable 
 acquaintance in the world of politics, a discreet man 
 not far from forty years of age, it seemed as though 
 nothing more were required to make a model hus- 
 band. Marzio knew very well that Lucia's dowry 
 would alone have sufficed to decide the lawyer to 
 marry her, and an interview with Carnesecchi had 
 almost decided the matter. Of course, he had not 
 been able to allude to the affair this evening at the 
 
ciia;'. ii MA11ZI0S CRUCIFIX 45 
 
 inn, when so many others were present, but the 
 preliminaries were nearly settled, and Marzio had 
 made up his mind to announce his intention to his 
 family at once. He knew well enough what a storm 
 he would raise, and, like many men who are always 
 trying to seem stronger than they really are, he had 
 determined to choose a moment for making the dis- 
 closure when he should be in a thoroughly bad humour. 
 As he walked homewards from the old inn he felt that 
 this moment had arrived. The slimy pavement, the 
 moist wind driving through the streets and round every 
 corner, penetrating to the very joints, contributed to 
 make him feel thoroughly vicious and disagreeable ; 
 and the tirade in which he had been indulging before 
 his audience of friends had loosed his tongue, until he 
 was conscious of being able to face any domestic dis- 
 turbance or opposition. 
 
 The little party had adjourned from supper, and had 
 been sitting for some time in the small room which 
 served as a place of meeting. Gianbattista was 
 smoking a cigarette, which he judged to be more in 
 keeping with his appearance than a pipe when he was 
 dressed in civilised garments, and he was drawing an 
 elaborate ornament of arabesques upon a broad sheet 
 of paper fixed on a board. Lucia seated at the table 
 was watching the work, while Don Paolo sat in a 
 straight-backed chair, his white hands folded on his 
 
4G MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, n 
 
 knee, from time to time addressing a remark to Maria 
 Luisa. The latter, being too stout to recline in the 
 deep easy-chair near the empty fireplace, sat bolt 
 upright, with her feet upon the edge of a footstool, 
 which was covered by a tapestry of worsted-work, dis- 
 playing an impossible nosegay upon a vivid green ground. 
 
 They had discussed the priest's canonry, and the 
 order for the crucifix. They had talked about the 
 weather. They had made some remarks upon Marzio's 
 probable disposition of mind when he. should come 
 home, and the conversation was exhausted so far as 
 the two older members were concerned. Gianbattista 
 and Lucia conversed in a low tone, in short, enigmatic 
 phrases. 
 
 " Do you know ? " said the apprentice. 
 
 " What ? " inquired Lucia. 
 
 " I have spoken of it to-day." Both glanced at the 
 Signora Pandolfi. She was sitting up as straight as 
 ever, but her heavy head was slowly bending forward. 
 
 " "Well ? " asked the young girl. 
 
 " He was in a diabolical humour. He said I might 
 take you away." Gianbattista smiled as he spoke, and 
 looked into Lucia's eyes. She returned his gaze rather 
 sadly, and only shook her head and shrugged her 
 shoulders for a reply. 
 
 "If we took him at his word," suggested Gian- 
 battista. 
 
chap, il MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 47 
 
 " Just so — it would be a fine affair ! " exclaimed 
 Lucia ironically. 
 
 "After all, he said so," argued the young man. 
 " What does it matter whether he meant it ? " 
 
 " Things are going badly for us," sighed his com- 
 panion. " It was different a year ago. You must 
 have done something to displease him, Tista. I wish 
 I knew ! " Her dark eyes suddenly assumed an angry 
 expression, and she drew in her red lips. 
 
 " Wish you knew what ? " inquired the apprentice, 
 in a colder tone. 
 
 " Why he does not think about it as he used to. 
 He never made any objections until lately. It was 
 almost settled." 
 
 Gianbattista glanced significantly at Don Paolo, 
 shrugged his shoulders, and went on drawing. 
 
 " What has that to do with it ? " asked Lucia im- 
 patiently. 
 
 " It is enough for your father that it would please 
 Ids brother. He would hate a dog that Don Paolo 
 liked." 
 
 '' What nonsense ! " exclaimed the girl. " It is 
 something else. Papa sees something — something 
 that I do not see. He knows his own affairs, and 
 perhaps he knows yours too, Tista. I have not for- 
 gotten the other evening." 
 
 " I ! " ejaculated the young man, looking up angrily. 
 
48 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap. 11 
 
 " You know very well where I was — at the Circolo 
 Artistico. How do you dare to think " 
 
 " Why are you so angry if there is no one else in 
 the case ? " asked Lucia, with a sudden sweetness, 
 which belied the jealous glitter in her eyes. 
 
 " It seems to me that I have a right to be angry. 
 That you should suspect me after all these years ! 
 How many times have I sworn to you that I went 
 nowhere else ? " 
 
 " "What is the use of your swearing ? You do not 
 believe in anything — why should you swear ? Why 
 should I believe you ? " 
 
 "Oh — if you talk like that, I have finished!" 
 answered Gianbattista. " But there — you are only 
 teasing me. You believe me, just as I believe you. 
 Besides, as for swearing and believing in something 
 besides you — who knows ? I love you — is not that 
 enough ? " 
 
 Lucia's eyes softened as they rested on the young 
 man's face. She knew he loved her. She only 
 wanted to be told so once more. 
 
 " There is Marzio," said Don Paolo, as a key rattled 
 in the latch of the outer door. 
 
 " At this hour ! " exclaimed the Signora Pandolfi, 
 suddenly waking up and rubbing her eyes with her 
 fat fingers. 
 
CHAPTEE III 
 
 Maezio, having divested himself of his heavy coat and 
 hat, appeared at the door of the sitting-room. 
 
 Everybody looked at him, as though to discern the 
 signs of his temper, and no one was perceptibly re- 
 assured by the sight of his white face and frowning 
 forehead. 
 
 " Well, most reverend canon," he began, addressing 
 Don Paolo, "I am in time to congratulate you, it 
 seems. It was natural that I should be the last to 
 hear of your advancement, through the papers." 
 
 " Thank you," answered Don Paolo quietly. " I 
 came to tell you the news." 
 
 "You are very considerate," returned Marzio. "I 
 have news also ; for you all." He paused a moment, 
 as though to give greater effect to the statement he 
 was about to make. " I refer," he continued very 
 slowly, " to the question of Lucia's marriage." 
 
 " Indeed ! " exclaimed the priest. " I am glad if it 
 is to be arranged at last." 
 
 The other persons in the room held their breath. 
 
 £ 
 
50 MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, hi 
 
 The young girl blushed deeply under her white skin, 
 and Gianbattista grew pale as he laid aside his pencil 
 and shaded his eyes with his hands. The Signora 
 Pandolfi panted with excitement and trembled visibly 
 as she looked at her husband. His dark figure stood 
 out strongly from the background of the shabby blue 
 wall paper, and the petroleum lamp cast deep shadows 
 in the hollows of his face. 
 
 " Yes," he continued, " I talked yesterday with 
 Gasparo Carnesecchi — you know, he is the lawyer I 
 always consult. He is a clever fellow and understands 
 these matters. We talked of the contract ; I thought 
 it better to consult him, you see, and he thinks the 
 affair can be arranged in a couple of weeks. He is so 
 intelligent. A marvel of astuteness ; we discussed 
 the whole matter, I say, and it is to be concluded as 
 soon as possible. So now, my children " 
 
 Gianbattista and Lucia, seated side by side at the 
 table, were looking into each other's eyes, and as 
 Marzio fixed his gaze upon them, their hands joined 
 upon the drawing-board, and an expression of happy 
 surprise overspread their faces. Marzio smiled too, 
 as he paused before completing the sentence. 
 
 " So that now, my children," he continued, speak- 
 ing very slowly, " you may as well leave each 
 other's hands and have done with, all this non- 
 sense." 
 
chap, in MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 51 
 
 The lovers looked up suddenly with a puzzled air, 
 supposing that Marzio was jesting. 
 
 " I am in earnest," he went on. " You see, Tista, 
 that it will not be proper for you to sit and hold 
 Lucia's hand when she is called Signora Carnesecchi, 
 so you may as well get used to it." 
 
 For a moment there was a dead silence in the room. 
 Then Lucia and Gianbattista both sprang to their feet. 
 
 " "What ! " screamed the young girl in an agony of 
 terror. " Carnesecchi ! what do you mean ? " 
 
 " Infame ! Wretch ! " shouted Gianbattista, beside 
 himself with rage as he sprang forward to grasp 
 Marzio in his hands. 
 
 But the priest had risen too, and placed himself 
 between the young man and Marzio to prevent any 
 struggle. " No violence ! " he cried in a tone that 
 dominated the angry voices and the hysterical weeping 
 of Maria Luisa, who sat rocking herself in her chair. 
 Gianbattista stepped back and leaned against the wall, 
 choking with anger. Lucia fell back into her seat and 
 covered her face with her hands. 
 
 " Violence ? Who wants violence ? " asked Marzio 
 in contemptuous tones. " Do you suppose I am afraid 
 of Tista ? Let him alone, Paolo ; let us see whether 
 he will strike me." 
 
 The priest now turned his back on the apprentice, 
 and confronted Marzio. He was not pale like the 
 
52 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, m 
 
 rest, for he was not afraid of the chiseller, and the 
 generous flush of a righteous indignation mounted to 
 his calm face. 
 
 " You are mad," he said, meeting his brother's gaze 
 fearlessly. 
 
 " Not in the least," returned Marzio. " Lucia shall 
 marry Gasparo Carnesecchi at once, or she shall not 
 marry any one ; what am I saying ? She shall have 
 no choice. She must and she shall marry the man I 
 have chosen. What have you to do with it ? Have 
 you come here to put yourself between me and my 
 family ? I advise you to be careful. The law pro- 
 tects me from such interference, and fellows of your 
 cloth are not very popular at present." 
 
 " The law," answered the priest, controlling his wrath, 
 " protects children against their parents. The law which 
 you invoke provides that a father shall not force his 
 daughter to marry against her will, and I believe that 
 considerable penalties are incurred in such cases." 
 
 " What do you know of law, except how to elude 
 it ? " inquired Marzio defiantly. 
 
 Not half an hour had elapsed since he had been 
 haranguing the admiring company of his friends, and 
 his words came easily. Moreover, it was a long time 
 since he had broken through the constraint he felt in 
 Don Paolo's presence, and the opportunity having 
 presented itself was not to be lost. 
 
chap, in MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 53 
 
 " Who are you that should teach me ? " he repeated, 
 raising his voice to a strained key and gesticulating 
 fiercely. " You, your very existence is a lie, and you 
 are the server of lies, and you and your fellow liars 
 would have created them if they didn't already exist, 
 you love them so. You live by a fraud, and you want 
 to drag everybody into the comedy you play every 
 day in your churches, everybody who is fool enough 
 to drop a coin into your greedy palm ! What right 
 have you to talk to men ? Do you work ? Do you 
 buy ? Do you sell ? You are worse than those fine 
 gentlemen who do nothing because their fathers stole 
 our money, for you live by stealing it yourselves ! 
 And you set yourselves up as judges over an honest 
 man to tell him what he is to do with his daughter ? 
 You fool, you thing in petticoats, you deceiver of 
 women, you charlatan, you mountebank, go ! Go and 
 perform your antics before your altars, and leave hard- 
 working men like me to manage their families as they 
 can, and to marry their daughters to whom they 
 will ! •' 
 
 Marzio had rolled off his string of invective in such 
 a tone, and so rapidly, that it had been impossible to 
 interrupt him. The two women were sobbing bitterly. 
 Gianbattista, pale and breathing hard, looked as though 
 he would throttle Marzio if he could reach him, and 
 Don Paolo faced the angrv artist, with reddening fore- 
 
54 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, hi 
 
 head, folding his arms and straining his muscles to 
 control himself. When Marzio paused for breath, the 
 priest answered him with an effort. 
 
 " You may insult me if it pleases you," he said, " it 
 is nothing to me. I cannot prevent your uttering 
 your senseless blasphemies. I speak to you of the 
 matter in hand. I tell you simply that in treating 
 these two, who love each other, as you are treating 
 them, you are doing a thing unworthy of a mau. 
 Moreover, the law protects your daughter, and I will 
 see that the law does its duty." 
 
 " Oh, to think that I should have such a monster 
 for a husband," groaned the fat Signora Pandolfi, still 
 rocking herself in her chair, and hardly able to speak 
 through her sobs. 
 
 "You will do a bad day's work for yourself and 
 your art when you try to separate us," said Gianbattista 
 between his teeth. 
 
 Marzio laughed hoarsely, and turned his back on 
 the rest, beginning to fill his pipe at the chimney- 
 piece. Don Paolo heard the apprentice's words, and 
 understood their meaning;. He went and laid his 
 hand on the young man's shoulder. 
 
 "Do not let us have any threats, Tista," he said 
 quietly. " Sor Marzio will never do this thing — 
 believe me, he cannot if he would.'' 
 
 " Go on," cried Marzio, striking a match. " Go on 
 
chap. Ill MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 5 5 
 
 — sow the seeds of discord, teach them all to disobey 
 me. I am listening, my dear Paolo." 
 
 " All the better, if you are," answered the priest, 
 " for I assure you I am in earnest. You will have 
 time to consider this thing. I have a matter of busi- 
 ness with you, Marzio. That is what I came for this 
 evening. If you have done, we will speak of it." 
 
 " Business ? " exclaimed Marzio in loud ironical 
 tones. " This is a good time for talking of business — 
 as good as any other ! What is it ? " 
 
 " The Cardinal wants another piece of work done, a 
 very fine piece of work." 
 
 " The Cardinal? I will not make any more chalices 
 for your cardinals. I am sick of chalices, and mon- 
 strances, and such stuff." 
 
 " It is none of those," answered Don Paolo quietly. 
 " The Cardinal wants a magnificent silver crucifix. 
 Will you undertake it ? It must be your greatest 
 work, if you do it at all." 
 
 " A crucifix ? " repeated Marzio, in a changed tone. 
 The angry gleam faded from his eyes, and a dreamy 
 look came into them as he let the heavy lids droop a 
 little, and remained silent, apparently lost in thought. 
 The women ceased sobbing, and watched his altered 
 face, while Gianbattista sank down into a chair and 
 absently fingered the pencil that had fallen across the 
 drawing-board. 
 
56 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, iii 
 
 " Will you do it ? " asked Don Paolo, at last. 
 
 " A crucifix," mused the artist. " Yes, I will make 
 a crucifix. I have made many, but I have never made 
 one to my mind. Yes, tell the Cardinal that I will 
 make it for him, if he will give me time." 
 
 " I do not . think he will need it in less than three 
 or four months," answered Don Paolo. 
 
 " Four months — that is not a long time for such a 
 work. But I will try." 
 
 Thereupon Marzio, whose manner had completely 
 changed, puffed at his pipe until it burned freely, and 
 then approached the table, glancing at Gianbattista 
 and Lucia as though nothing had happened. He drew 
 the drawing-board which the apprentice had been 
 using towards him, and, taking the pencil from the 
 hand of the young -man, began sketching heads on one 
 corner of the paper. 
 
 Don Paolo looked at him gravely. After the words 
 Marzio had spoken, it had gone against the priest's 
 nature to communicate to him the commission for the 
 sacred object. He had hesitated a moment, asking 
 himself whether it was right that such a man should 
 be allowed to do such work. Then the urgency of the 
 situation, and his knowledge of his brother's character, 
 had told him that the diversion might avert some 
 worse catastrophe, and he had quickly made up his 
 mind. Even now he asked himself whether he had 
 
chap, in MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 57 
 
 done right. It was a question of theology, which it 
 would have taken long to analyse, and Don Paolo had 
 other matters to think of in the present, so he dis- 
 missed it from his mind. He wanted to be gone, and 
 he only stayed a few minutes to see whether Marzio's 
 mind would change again. He knew his brother well, 
 and he was sure that uo violence was to be feared from 
 him, except in his speech. Such scenes as he had just 
 witnessed were not uncommon in the Pandolfi house- 
 hold, and Don Paolo did not believe that any conse- 
 quence was to be expected after he had left the house. 
 He only felt that Marzio had been more than usually 
 unreasonable, and that the artist could not possibly 
 mean seriously what he had proposed that evening. 
 
 The priest did not indeed think that Gianbattista 
 was altogether good enough for Lucia. The boy was 
 occasionally a little wild in his speech, and though he 
 was too much in awe of Don Paolo to repeat before 
 hirn any of the opinions he had learned from his 
 master, his manner showed occasionally that he was 
 inclined to take the side of the latter in most questions 
 that arose. But the habit of controlling his feelings 
 in order not to offend the man of the church, and 
 especially in order not to hurt Lucia's sensitive nature, 
 had begun gradually to change and modify the young 
 man's character. From having been a devoted admirer 
 of Marzio's political creed and extreme free thought, 
 
5 8 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, til 
 
 Gianbattista had fallen into the way of asking ques- 
 tions of the chiseller, to see how he would answer 
 them ; and the answers had not always satisfied him. 
 Side by side with his increasing skill in his art, which 
 led him to compare himself with his teacher, there 
 had grown up in the apprentice the habit of compar- 
 ing himself with Marzio from the intellectual point of 
 view as well as from the artistic. The comparison 
 did not appear to him advantageous to the elder man, 
 as he discovered, in his way of thinking, a lack of 
 logic on the one hand, and a love of frantic exag- 
 geration on the other, which tended to throw a doubt 
 upon the whole system of ideas which had produced 
 these defects. The result was that the young man's 
 mental position was unbalanced, and he was inclined 
 to return to a more normal condition of thought. Don 
 Paolo did not know all this, but he saw that Gianbat- 
 tista had grown more quiet during the last year, and 
 he hoped that his marriage with Lucia would complete 
 the change. To see her thrown intq the arms of a 
 man like Gasparo Carnesecchi was more than the 
 priest's affection for his niece could bear. He hardly 
 believed that Marzio would seriously think again of 
 the scheme, and he entertained a hope that the sub- 
 ject would not even be broached for some time to 
 come. 
 
 Marzio continued to draw in silence, and after a 
 
chap, in MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 59 
 
 few minutes, Don Paolo rose to take his leave. The 
 chiseller did not look up from his pencil. 
 
 "Good-night, Marzio- — let it be a good piece of 
 work," said Paolo. 
 
 " Good-night," growled the artist, his eyes still fixed 
 on the paper. His brother saluted the rest and left 
 the room to go home to his lonely lodgings at the top 
 of an old palace, in the first floor of which dwelt the 
 Cardinal, whom he served as secretary. "When he was 
 gone, Lucia rose silently and went to her room, leaving 
 her father and mother with Gianbattista. The Signora 
 Pandolfi hesitated as to whether she should follow her 
 daughter or stay with the two men. Her woman's 
 nature feared further trouble, and visions of drawn 
 knives rose before her swollen eyes, so that, after 
 making as though she would rise twice, she finally 
 remained in her seat, her fat hands resting idly upon 
 her knees, staring at her husband and Gianbattista. 
 The latter sat gloomily watching the paper on which 
 his master was drawing. 
 
 " Marzio, you do not mean it ? " said Maria Luisa, 
 after a long interval of silence. The good woman did 
 not possess the gift of tact. 
 
 " Do you not see that I have an idea ? " asked her 
 husband crossly, by way of an answer, as he bent his 
 head over his work. 
 
 " I beg your pardon/' said the Signora Pandolfi, in 
 
60 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 
 
 CHAP, m 
 
 a humble tone, looking piteously at Gianbattista, The 
 apprentice shook his head, as though he meant that 
 nothing could be done for the present. Then she rose 
 slowly, and with a word of good-night as she turned 
 to the door, she left the room. The two men were 
 alone. 
 
 " Now that nobody hears us, Sor Marzio, what do 
 you mean to do ? " asked Gianbattista in a low voice. 
 Marzio shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " What I told you," he answered, after a few seconds. 
 " Do you suppose that rascally priest of a brother has 
 made me change my mind ? " 
 
 " No, I did not expect that, but I am not a priest ; 
 nor am I a boy to be turned round your fingers and 
 put off in this way — sent to the wash like dirty linen. 
 You must answer to me for what you said this evening.'' 
 
 " Oh, I will answer as much as you please," replied 
 the artist, with an evil smile. 
 
 " Very well. Why do you want to turn me out, 
 after promising for years that I should marry Lucia 
 with your full consent when she was old enough ? " 
 
 " Why ? because you have turned yourself out, to 
 begin with. Secondly, because Carnesecchi is a better 
 match for my daughter than a beggarly chiseller. 
 Thirdly, because I please ; and fourthly, because I do 
 not care a fig whether you like it or not. Are those 
 reasons sufficient or not ? " 
 
chap. Ill MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 61 
 
 " They may satisfy you," answered Gianbattista. 
 " They leave something to be desired in the way of 
 logic, in my humble opinion." 
 
 " Since I have told you that I do not care for your 
 opinion- -" 
 
 " I will probably find means to make you care for 
 it," retorted the young man. " Don Paolo is quite 
 right, in the first place, when lie tells you that the 
 thing is simply impossible. Fathers do not compel 
 their daughters to marry in this century. Will you 
 do me the favour to explain your first remark a little 
 more clearly ? You said I had turned myself out — 
 how ? " 
 
 " You have changed, Tista," said Marzio, leaning 
 back to sharpen his pencil, and staring at the wall. 
 " You change every day. You are not at all what 
 you used to be, and you know it. You are going 
 back to the priests. You fawn on my brother like 
 a dog." 
 
 " You are joking," answered the apprentice. " Of 
 course I would not want to make trouble in your 
 house by quarrelling with Don Paolo, even if I disliked 
 him. I do not dislike him. This evening he showed 
 that he is a much better man than you." 
 
 "Dear Gianbattista," returned Marzio in sour tones, 
 " every word you say convinces me that I have done 
 right. Besides, I am busy — you see — you disturb my 
 
62 MAKZIO'S CKUCIFIX chap, m 
 
 ideas. If you do not like my house, you can leave it. 
 I will not keep you. I daresay I can educate another 
 artist before I die. You are really only fit to swing a 
 censer behind Paolo, or at the heels of some such 
 animal." 
 
 "Perhaps it would be better to do that than to 
 serve the mass you sing over your work-bench every 
 day," said Gianbattista. "You are going too far, Sor 
 Marzio. One may trifle with women and their feel- 
 ings. You had better not attempt it with men.'' 
 
 " Such as you and Paolo ? There was once a mule 
 in the Pescheria "Vecchia; when he got half-way 
 through he did not like the smell of the fish, and he 
 said to his leader, ' I will turn back.' The driver 
 pulled him along. Then said the mule, ' Do not trifle 
 with me. I will turn round and kick you.' But 
 there is not room for a mule to turri round in the 
 Pescheria Vecchia. The mule found it out, and fol- 
 lowed the man through the fish market after all. I 
 hope that is clear ? It means that you are a fool." 
 
 " What is the use of bandying words ? " cried the 
 apprentice angrily. "I will offer you a bargain, Sor 
 Marzio. I will give you your choice. Either I will 
 leave the house, and in that case I will carry off 
 Lucia and marry her in spite of you. Or else I will 
 stay here — but if Lucia marries any one else, I will 
 cut your throat. Is that a fair bargain ?" 
 
CHAP. Ill MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 63 
 
 " Perfectly fair, though I cannot see wherein the 
 bargain consists," answered Marzio, with a rough laugh. 
 " I prefer that you should stay here. I will run the 
 risk of being murdered by you, any day, and you may 
 run the risk of being sent to the galleys for life, if you 
 choose. You will be well cared for there, and you can 
 try your chisel on paving-stones for a change from 
 silver chalices." 
 
 "Never mind what becomes of me afterwards, in 
 that case," said the young man. " If Lucia is married 
 to some one else, I do not care what happens. So you 
 have got yoixr warning ! " 
 
 " Thank you. If you had remained what you used 
 to be, you might have married her without further 
 difficulty. But to have you and Lucia and Maria 
 Luisa and Paolo all conspiring against me from morn- 
 ing till night is more than I can bear. Good-night, 
 and the devil be with you, you fool ! " 
 
 " Et cum sjoiritu tuo," answered Gianbattista as he 
 left the room. 
 
 "When Marzio was alone he returned to the head he 
 was drawing — a head of wonderful beauty, inclined 
 downwards and towards one side, bearing a crown of 
 thorns, the eyelids drooped and shaded in death. He 
 glanced at it with a bitter smile and threw aside the 
 pencil without making another stroke upon the paper. 
 
 He leaned back, lighted another pipe, and began to 
 
64 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, hi 
 
 reflect upon the events of the evening. He was glad 
 it was over, for a strange weakness in his violent 
 nature made it hard for him to face such scenes unless 
 lie were thoroughly roused. Now, however, he was 
 satisfied. For a lorn? time he had seen with srowin"- 
 distrust the change in Gianbattista's manner, and in 
 the last words he had spoken to the apprentice he had 
 uttered what was really in his heart. He was afraid 
 of being altogether overwhelmed by the majority 
 against him in his own house. He hated Paolo with 
 his whole soul, and he had hated him all his life. This 
 calm, obliging brother of his stood between him and all 
 peace of mind. It was not the least of his grievances 
 that he received most of his commissions through the 
 priest who was constantly in relation with the. cardinal 
 and rich prelates who were the patrons of his art. The 
 sense of obligation which he felt was often almost 
 unbearable, and he longed to throw it off. The man 
 whom he hated for his own sake and despised for his 
 connection with the church, was daily in his house ; at 
 every turn he met with Paolo's tacit disapprobation or 
 outspoken resistance. Por a long time Paolo had 
 doubted whether the marriage between the two young 
 people would turn out well, and while he expressed his 
 doubts Marzio had remained stubborn in his deter- 
 mination. Latterly, and doubtless owing to the 
 change in Gianbattista's character, Paolo had always 
 
chap, in MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 65 
 
 spoken of the marriage with favour. This sufficed at 
 first to rouse Marzio's suspicions, and ultimately led 
 to his opposing with all his might what he had so 
 long and so vigorously defended ; he resolved to be 
 done with what he considered a sort of slavery, and at 
 one stroke to free himself from his brother's influence, 
 and to assure Lucia's future. During several weeks he 
 had planned the scene which had taken place that 
 evening, waiting for his opportunity, trying to make 
 sure of being strong enougli to make it effective, and 
 revolving the probable answers he might expect from 
 the different persons concerned. It had come, and he 
 was satisfied with the result. 
 
 Marzio Pandolfi's intelligence lacked logic. In its 
 place he possessed furious enthusiasm, an exaggerated 
 estimate of the value of bis social doctrines, and a 
 whole vocabulary of terms by which to describe the 
 ideal state after which he hankered. But though he 
 did not possess a logic of his own, his life was itself 
 the logical result of the circumstances lie had created. 
 As, in the diagram called the parallelogram of forces, 
 various conflicting powers are seen to act at a point, 
 producing an inevitable resultant in a fixed line, so in 
 the plan of Marzio's life, a number of different tend- 
 encies all acted at a centre, in his over -strained 
 intelligence, and continued to push him in a direction 
 he had not expected to follow, and of which even 
 
 F 
 
G G MAEZIO'S CEUCIFIX chap, hi 
 
 now lie was far from suspecting the tiltimate termi- 
 nation. 
 
 He had never loved his brother, hut he had loved 
 his wife with all his heart. He had begun to love 
 Lucia when she was a child. He had felt a sort of 
 admiring fondness for Gianbattista Bordogni, and a 
 decided pride in the progress and the talent of the • 
 apprentice. By degrees, as the prime mover, his 
 hatred for Paolo, gained force, it had absorbed his 
 affection for Maria Luisa, who, after eighteen years of 
 irreproachable wifehood, seemed to Marzio to be no- 
 thing better than an accomplice and a spy of his 
 brother's in the domestic warfare. Next, the lingering 
 love for his child had been eaten up in the same way, 
 and Marzio said to himself that the girl had joined the 
 enemy, and was no longer worthy of his confidence. 
 Lastly, the change in Gianbattista's character and 
 ideas seemed to destroy the last link which bound 
 the chiseller to his family. Henceforth, his hand was 
 against each one of his household, and he fancied that 
 they were all banded together against himself. 
 
 Every step had followed as the inevitable conse- 
 quence of what had gone before. The brooding and 
 suspicious nature of the artist had persisted in seeing 
 in each change in himself the blackest treachery in 
 those who surrounded him. His wife was an im- 
 placable enemy, his daughter a spy, his apprentice a 
 
chap, in MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 67 
 
 traitor, and as for Paolo himself, Marzio considered 
 him the blackest of villains. For all this chain of 
 hatreds led backwards, and was concentrated with ten- 
 fold virulence in his great hatred for his brother. 
 Paolo, in his estimation, was the author of all the 
 evil, the sole ultimate cause of domestic discord, the 
 arch enemy of the future, the representative, in 
 Marzio's sweeping condemnation, not only of the 
 church and of religion, but of that whole fabric of 
 existing society which the chiseller longed to tear 
 down. 
 
 Marzio's socialism, for so he called it, had one good 
 feature. It was sincere of its kind, and disinterested. 
 He was not of the common herd, a lazy vagabond, in- 
 capable of continuous work, or of perseverance in any 
 productive occupation, desiring only to be enriched by 
 impoverishing others, one of the endless rank and file 
 of Italian republicans, to whom the word " republic " 
 means nothing but bread without work, and the liberty 
 which consists in howling blasphemies by day and 
 night in the public streets. His position was as differ- 
 ent from that of a private in the blackguard battalion 
 as his artistic gifts and his industry were superior to 
 those of the throng. He had money, he had talent, 
 and he • had been very successful in his occupation. 
 He had nothing to gain by the revolutions he dreamed 
 of, and he might lose much by any upsetting of the 
 
68 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, ih 
 
 existing laws of property. He was, therefore, perfectly- 
 sincere, so far as his convictions went, and disinterested 
 to a remarkable degree. These conditions aTe often 
 found in the social position of the true fanatic, who is 
 the more ready to rim to the greatest length, because lie 
 entertains no desire to better his own state. Marzio's 
 real weakness lay in the limited scope of his views, 
 and in a certain timid prudence which destroyed his 
 power of initiative. He was an economical man, who 
 distrusted the future ; and though such a disposition 
 produces a good effect in causing a man to save money 
 against the day of misfortune, it is incompatible with 
 the career of the true enthusiast, who must be ready 
 to risk everything at any moment. The man who 
 would move other men, and begin great changes, must 
 have an enormous belief in himself, an unbounded 
 confidence in his cause, and a large faith in the future, 
 amounting to the absolute scorn of consequence. 
 
 These greater qualities Marzio did not possess, and 
 through lack of them the stupendous results of which 
 he was fond of talking had diminished to a series of 
 domestic quarrels, in which he was not always victori- 
 ous. His hatred of the church was practically reduced 
 to the detestation of his brother, and to an unreasoning 
 jealousy of his brother's influence in his home. His 
 horror of social distinctions, which speculated freely 
 upon the destruction of the monarchy, amounted in 
 
cnAP. m MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 69 
 
 practice to nothing more offensive than a somewhat 
 studious rudeness towards the few strangers of high 
 position who from time to time visited the workshop in 
 the Via dei Falegnami. In the back room of his inn, 
 Marzio could find loud and cutting words in which to 
 denounce the Government, the monarchy, the church, 
 and the superiority of the aristocracy. In real fact, 
 Marzio took off his hat when he met the king in the 
 street, paid his taxes with a laudable regularity, and 
 increased the small fortune he had saved by selling 
 sacred vessels to the priests against whom he inveighed. 
 Instead of burning the Vatican and hanging the Col- 
 lege of Cardinals to the pillars of the Colonnade, 
 Marzio Pandolfi felt a very unpleasant sense of con- 
 straint in the presence of the only priest with whom 
 he ever conversed, his brother Paolo. When, on very 
 rare occasions, he broke out into angry invective, and 
 ventured to heap abuse upon the calm individual who 
 excited his wrath, he soon experienced the counter- 
 shock in the shape of a strong conviction that he had 
 injured his position rather than bettered it, and the 
 melancholy conclusion forced itself upon him that by 
 abusing Paolo he himself lost influence in his own 
 house, and not unfrequently called forth the contempt 
 of those he had sought to terrify. 
 
 The position was galling in the extreme ; for, like 
 many artists who are really remarkable in their pro- 
 
TO MAIiZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, m 
 
 fessioii, Marzio was very vain of his intellectual superi- 
 ority in other branches. It may be a question whether 
 vanity is not essential to any one who is' forced to 
 compete in excellence with other gifted men. Vanity 
 means emptiness, and in the case of the artist it means 
 that emptiness which craves to be filled with praise. 
 The artist may doubt his own work, but he is bitterly 
 disappointed if other people doubt it also. Marzio 
 had his full share of this kind of vanity, which, as in 
 most cases, extended beyond the sphere of his art. 
 How often does one hear two or three painters or 
 sculptors who are gathered together in a studio, laying 
 down the law concerning Government, society, and the 
 distribution of wealth. And yet, though they make 
 excellent statues and paint wonderful pictures, there 
 are very few instances on record of artists having 
 borne any important part in the political history of 
 their times. Not from any want of a desire to do so, 
 in many cases, but from the real want of the power; 
 and yet many of them believe themselves far more 
 able to solve political and social questions than the 
 men who represent them in the Parliament of their 
 country, or tlie persons who by innate superiority of 
 tact have made themselves the arbiters of society. 
 
 Marzio's vanity suffered terribly, for he realised the 
 wide difference that existed between his aims and the 
 result actually produced. Tor this reason he had de- 
 
chap, in MAKZIo's CRUCIFIX 71 
 
 termined to bring matters to a point of contention in 
 his household, in order to assert once and for all the 
 despotic authority which lie believed to be his right. 
 He knew well enough that in proposing the marriage 
 of Lucia with Carnesecchi, he had hit upon a plan 
 which Paolo would oppose with all his might. It 
 seemed as though he could not have selected a ques- 
 tion more certain to produce a hot contention. He 
 had brought forward his proposal boldly, and had not 
 hesitated to make a most virulent personal attack on 
 his brother when the latter had shown signs of opposi- 
 tion. And yet, as he sat over his drawing board, 
 staring at the clouds of smoke that rose from his pipe, 
 he was unpleasantly conscious that he had not been 
 altogether victorious, that he had not played the part 
 of the despot to the end, as he had intended to do, 
 that he had suddenly felt his inferiority to Paolo's 
 calmness, and that upon hearing of the proposition 
 concerning the crucifix he had acted as though he had 
 received a bribe to be quiet. He bit his thin lips as 
 he reflected that all the family must have supposed 
 his silence from that moment to have been the effect 
 of the important commission which Paolo had com- 
 municated to him ; for it seemed impossible that they 
 should understand the current of his thoughts. 
 
 As he glanced at the head he had drawn he under- 
 stood himself better than others had understood him, 
 
72 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, nr 
 
 for he saw on the corner of the paper the masterly 
 sketch of an ideal Christ he had sought after for years 
 without ever reaching it. He knew that that ideal 
 had presented itself to his mind at the very moment 
 when Paolo had proposed the work to him — the result 
 perhaps, of the excitement under which he laboured at 
 the moment. From that instant he had been able to 
 think of nothing. He had been impelled to draw, 
 and the expression of Atthought had driven every- 
 thing else out of his mind. Paolo had gained a 
 fancied victory by means of a fancied bribe. Marzio 
 determined to revenge himself for the unfair advantage 
 his brother had then taken, by showing himself in- 
 flexible in his resolution concerning the marriage. It 
 was but a small satisfaction to. have braved Gian- 
 battista's boyish threats, after having seemed to accept 
 the bribe of a priest. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 On the following morning, Marzio left the house 
 earlier than usual. Gianbajjista had not finished 
 his black coffee, and was nor in a humour to make 
 advances to his master, after the scene of the 
 previous evening. So he did not move from the 
 table when the chiseller left the room, nor did he 
 make any remark upon the hour. The door that led 
 to the stairs had hardly closed after Marzio, when 
 Lucia put her head into the room where Gianbattista 
 was seated. 
 
 " He is gone," said the young man ; " come in, we 
 can talk a few minutes." 
 
 " Tista," began Lucia, coming forward and laying 
 her fingers on his curly hair, " what did all that mean 
 last night ? Have you understood ?" 
 
 " Who understands that lunatic ! " exclaimed Gian- 
 battista, passing his arm round the girl's waist, and 
 drawing her to him. " I only understand one thing, 
 we must be married as soon as possible and be done 
 with it. Is it not true, Lucia ? " 
 
74 MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, iy 
 
 " I hope so," answered Lis companion, with a blush 
 and a sirdi. " But I am so much afraid." 
 
 O 
 
 " Do not be afraid, leave it all to me, I will protect 
 you, my darling," replied the young man, tapping his 
 breast with the ready gesture of an Italian, as though 
 to prove his courage. 
 
 " Oh, I am sure of that ! But how can it be 
 managed ? Of course he cannot force me to marry 
 Carnesecchi, as Uncle Paolo explained to him. But 
 he will try, and he is so bad ! " 
 
 " Let him try, let him try," repeated Giaubattista. 
 '' I made a bargain with him last night after you had 
 gone to bed. Do you know what I told' him ? I 
 told him that I would stay with him, but that if you 
 married any one but me, I would cut his throat — Sor 
 Marzio's throat, do you understand ? " 
 
 " Oh, Tista !" cried Lucia. " How did you ever have 
 the courage to tell him such a thing ? Besides, you 
 know, you would not do it, would you ? " 
 
 " Do not trouble yourself, he saw I was in earnest, 
 and he will think twice about it. Besides, he said 
 yesterday that I might have you if I would take you. 
 away." 
 
 " A nice thing for a father to say of his daughter ! " 
 exclaimed the girl angrily. " And what did you 
 answer him then, my love ? " -» 
 
 " Oh ! I said that I had not the slightest objection to 
 
ohap. IV MARZIO'S CftUCIFIX 7 5 
 
 the proceeding. And then he tried to prove to me 
 that we should starve without him, and then he swore 
 at me like a Turk. What did it matter ? He said I 
 was changed. By Diana! Any man would change, 
 just for the sake-of not being like him ! " 
 
 " How do you mean that you are changed, dear ? " 
 asked Lucia anxiously. 
 
 " Who knows ? He said I fawned on Don Paolo 
 like a dog, instead of hating the priests as I used to 
 do. What do you think, love ? " 
 
 " I think Uncle Paolo would laugh at the idea," 
 answered the girl, smiling herself, but rather sadly. 
 " I am afraid you are as bad as ever, in that way." 
 
 " I am not bad, Lucia. I begin to think I like 
 Don Paolo. He was splendid last uight. Did you 
 see how he stared your father out of countenance, and 
 then turned him into a lamb with the order for the 
 crucifix ? Don Paolo has a much stronger will than 
 Sor Marzio, and a great deal more sense. He will 
 make your father change his mind." 
 
 " Of course it would be for the better if we could 
 be married without any objection, and I am very glad 
 you are growing fond of Uncle Paolo. But I have 
 seen it for some time. He is so good ! " 
 
 "Yes. That is the truth," answered Gianbattista 
 in meditative tone. " He is too good. It is not 
 natural. And then he has a way of making me feel 
 
76 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, iv 
 
 it. Now, I would have strangled Sor Marzio last 
 night if your uncle had not been there, but he pre- 
 vented me. Of course he was right. Those people 
 always are. But one hates to be set right by a priest. 
 It is humiliating ! " 
 
 " Well, it is better than not to be set right at all," 
 said Lucia. " You see, if you had strangled poor 
 papa, it would have been dreadful ! Ob, Tista, 
 promise me that you will not do anything violent ! 
 Of course he is very unkind, I know. But it would 
 be terrible if you were to be angry and hurt him. 
 You will not, Tista ? Tell me you will not ? " 
 " We shall see ; we shall see, my love ! " 
 " You do not love me if you will not promise." 
 " Oh, if that is all, my love, I will promise never 
 to lay a finger on him until you are actually married 
 
 to some one else. But then " Gianbattista 
 
 made the gesture which means driving the knife into 
 an enemy. 
 
 " Then you may do anything you please," answered 
 Lucia, with a laugh. " He will never make me marry 
 any one but you. You know that, my heart ! " 
 
 " In that case we ought to be married very soon," 
 argued the young man. " We need not live here, you 
 know. Indeed, it would be out of the question. We 
 will take one of those pretty little places in the new 
 quarter " 
 
chap. IV MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 77 
 
 " That is so far away," interrupted the girl. 
 
 "Yes, but there is the tramway, and there are 
 omnibuses. It only takes a quarter of an hour." 
 
 " Cut you would be so far "from me all day, my 
 love. I could not run into the studio at all hours, 
 and you would not come home for dinner. Oh! I 
 could not bear it ! " 
 
 " Very well, we will try and find something near 
 here," said Gianbattista, yielding the point. "We 
 will get a little apartment near the Minerva, where 
 there is sun." 
 
 "And we will have a terrace on the top of the 
 house, with pots of carnations." 
 
 " And red curtains on rings, that we can draw ; it 
 is such a pretty light when the sun shines through 
 them." 
 
 "And green wall paper with blue furniture," sug- 
 gested Lucia. " It is so gay." 
 
 " Or perhaps the furniture of the same colour as the 
 paper — you know they have it so in all fashionable 
 houses." 
 
 "Well, if it is really the fashion, I suppose we 
 must," assented the girl rather regretfully. 
 
 " Yes, it is the fashion, my heart, and you must 
 have everything in the fashion. But I must be going," 
 added the young man, rising from his seat. 
 
 " Already ? It is early, Tista " she hesitated 
 
78 MAIiZIO S CRUCIFIX chap, it 
 
 " Dear Tista," she began again, her dark eyes resting 
 anxiously on his face, " what will you say to him in 
 the workshop ? You will tell him that I would 
 rather die than marry Carnesecchi, that we arc sol- 
 emnly promised, that nothing shall part us ! You 
 will make him see reason, Tista, will you not ? I 
 cannot go to him, or I would; and mamma, poor 
 mamma, is so afraid of him when he is in his humours. 
 There are only you and Uncle Paolo to manage him ; 
 and after the way he insulted Uncle Paolo last night, 
 it will be all the harder. Think of it, Tista, while 
 you are at work, and bring me word when you come 
 to dinner." 
 
 " Never fear, love," replied Gianbattista confidently ; 
 " what else should I think of while I am hammering 
 away all day ? A little kiss, to give me courage." 
 
 In a moment he was gone, and his quick step 
 resounded on the stairs as he ran down, leaving Lucia 
 at the door above, to catch the last good-bye he called 
 up to her when he reached the bottom. His fresh 
 voice came up to her mingled with the rattle of the 
 lumbering carts in the street. She answered the cry 
 and went in. 
 
 Just then the sleepy Signora Pandolfi emerged from 
 her chamber, clad in the inevitable skirt and white 
 cotton jacket, her heavy black hair coiled in an irre- 
 gular mass on the top of her head, and held in place 
 
chap, it MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 79 
 
 by hair-pins that seemed to he on the point of dropping 
 out. 
 
 "Ah, Lucia, my darling! Such a night as I have 
 passed ! " she moaned, sinking into a chair beside the 
 table, on which the coffee-pot and the empty cups were 
 still standing. " Such a night, my dear ! I have not 
 closed an eye. I am sure it is the last judgment ! 
 And this scirocco, too, it is enough to kill one ! " 
 
 " Courage, mamma," answered Lucia gaily. " Things 
 are never so bad as they seem." 
 
 " Oh, that monster, that monster ! " groaned the fat 
 lady. " He would make an angel lose his patience ! 
 Imagine, my dear, he insists that you shall be married 
 in a fortnight, and he has left me money to go and 
 buy things for your outfit ! Oh dear ! What are we 
 to do? I shall go mad, my dear, and you will all 
 have to take me to Santo Spirito ! Oh dear ! Oh 
 dear ! This scirocco ! " 
 
 " I think papa will go mad first," said Lucia. '' I 
 never heard of such an insane proposition in my life. 
 All in a moment too — I think I am to marry Tista — 
 papa gets into a rage and — patatunfate ! a new hus- 
 band- — like .a conjuror's trick, such a comedy ! I 
 expected to see the door open at every minute, 
 Pulcinella walk in and beat everybody with a 
 blown bladder ! But Uncle Paolo did quite as 
 welL" 
 
80 MAEZIO'S CKUC1F1X chap. i\* 
 
 " Oh, my head ! " complained the Signora Pandolfi. 
 " I have not slept a wink ! " 
 
 " And then it was shameful to see the way papa 
 grew quiet and submissive when Uncle Paolo gave him 
 the order for the crucifix ! If it had been anybody 
 but papa, I should have said that a miracle had been 
 performed. But poor papa ! No — the miracle of the 
 soldi — that is the truth. I would like to catch sight 
 of the saint who could work a miracle on papa ! 
 Capers, what a saint he would have to be ! " 
 
 " Bacchus ! " ejaculated Maria Luisa, " San Filippo 
 Neri would be nowhere ! The Holy Father would 
 have to make a saint on purpose to convert that 
 monster ! A saint who should have nothing else to 
 do. Oh, how hot it is ! My head is splitting. What 
 are we to do, Lucia, my heart ? Tell me a little what 
 we are to do — two poor women — all alone — oli 
 dear ! " 
 
 " In the first place, it needs courage, mamma/' 
 answered Lucia, " and a cup of coffee. It is still hot, 
 and you have not had any — '■ " 
 
 "Coffee! Who thinks of coffee?" cried the Sig- 
 nora Pandolfi, taking the cup from her daughter's 
 hands, and drinking the liquid with more calmness 
 than might have been anticipated. 
 , "That is right," continued the girl. "Drink, 
 mamma, it will do you good. And then, and then — 
 
chap. IV MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 81 
 
 let me see. And then you must talk to Suntarella 
 about the dinner. That old woman has no head " 
 
 " Dinner ! " cried the mother, " who thinks of dinner 
 at such a time ? And he left me the money for the 
 outfit, too ! Lucia, my love, I have the fever — I will 
 go to bed." 
 
 " Eh ! What do you suppose ? That is a way out 
 of all difficulties," answered Lucia philosophically. 
 
 "But you cannot go out alone " 
 
 " I will stay at home in that case." 
 
 "And then he will come to dinner, and ask to see 
 the things " 
 
 "There will be no things to show him," returned 
 the young girl. 
 
 " Well ? And then where should we be ? " inquired 
 the Signora Pandolfi. " I see him, my husband, com- 
 ing back and finding that nothing has been done ! He 
 would tear his hair ! He would kill us ! He would 
 bring his broomstick of a lawyer here to marry you 
 this very afternoon, and what should we have gained 
 then ? It needs judgment, Lucia, my heart — judgment, 
 judgment ! " repeated the fat lady, tapping her fore- 
 head. 
 
 " Eh ! If you have not enough for two, mamma, I 
 do not know what we shall do." 
 
 "At the same time, something must be done," 
 mused Maria Luisa. " My head is positively bursting ! 
 
 G 
 
IS MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, iv 
 
 We might go out and buy half a dozen handkerchiefs, 
 just to show him that we have begun. Do you think 
 a few handkerchiefs would quiet him, my love ? You 
 could always use them afterwards — a dozen would be 
 too many " 
 
 " Bacchus ! " exclaimed Lucia, " I have only one 
 nose." 
 
 "It is a pity," answered her mother rather irrele- 
 vantly. " After all, handkerchiefs are the cheapest 
 things, and if we spread them out, all six, on the green 
 sofa, they will make a certain effect — these men ! 
 One must deceive them, my child." 
 
 " Suppose we did another thing," began Lucia, look- 
 ing out of the window. " We might get some things 
 — in earnest, good things. They will always do for 
 the wedding with Tista. Meanwhile, papa will of 
 course have to change his mind, and then it will be 
 all right." 
 
 " "What genius ! " cried the Signora Pandolfi. " Oh, 
 Lucia ! You have found it ! And then we can just 
 step into the workshop on our way — that will reassure 
 your father." 
 
 " Perhaps, after all, it would be better to go and 
 tell him the truth," said Lucia, beginning to walk 
 slowly up and down the room. " He must know it, 
 sooner or later." 
 
 " Are you mad, Lucia ? " exclaimed her mother. 
 
chap, iv MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 83 
 
 holding up her hands iu horror. " Just think how he 
 would act if you went and faced him ! " 
 
 " Then why not go and find Uncle Paolo ? " sug- 
 gested the girl. " He will know what is best to be 
 done, and will help us, you may be sure. Of course, 
 he expected to see us before anything was done in the 
 matter. But I am not afraid to face papa all alone. 
 Besides, Tista is talking to him at this very minute. 
 I told him all he was to say, and he has so much 
 courage ! " 
 
 " I wish I had as much," moaned the Signora Pan- 
 dolfi, lapsing into hesitation. 
 
 " Come, mamma, I will decide for you," said Lucia. 
 "We will go and find Uncle Paolo, and we will do 
 exactly as he advises." 
 
 " After all, that is best," assented her mother, rising 
 slowly from her seat. 
 
 Half an hour later they left the house upon their 
 errand, but the}' did not enter the workshop on their 
 way. Indeed, if they had, they would have been sur- 
 prised to find that Marzio was not there, and that 
 Gianbattista was consequently not talking to him as 
 Lucia had supposed. 
 
 When Gianbattista reached the workshop, he was 
 told that Marzio had only remained five minutes, and 
 had gone away so soon as everybody was at work. He 
 hesitated a moment, wondering whether he might not 
 
84 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, iv 
 
 go home again and spend another hour in Lucia's com- 
 pany; hut it was not possible to foretell whether Marzio 
 would be absent during the whole morning, and Gian- 
 battista decided to remain. Moreover, the peculiar 
 smell of the studio brought with it the idea of work, 
 and with the idea came the love of the art, not equal, 
 perhaps to the love of the woman but more familiar 
 from the force of habit. 
 
 All men feel such impressions, and most of all those 
 who follow a fixed calling, and are accustomed to do 
 their work iu a certain place every day. Theophile 
 Gautier confessed in his latter days that he could not 
 work except in the office of the Moniteur — elsewhere, 
 he said, he missed the smell of the printers' ink, which 
 brought him ideas. Artists know well the effect of the 
 atmosphere of the studio. Five minutes of that paint- 
 laden air suffice to make the outer world a mere dream, 
 and to recall the reality of work. There was an old 
 dressing-gown to which Thackeray was attached as to 
 a friend, and which he believed indispensable to com- 
 position. Balzac had his oval writing-room, when he 
 grew rich, and the creamy white colour of the tapestries 
 played a great part in his thoughts. The blacksmith 
 loves the smoke of the forge and the fumes of hot iron 
 on the anvil, and the chiseller's fingers burn to handle 
 the tools that are strewn on the wooden bench. 
 
 Gianbattista stood at the door of the studio, and had 
 
chap. IV MAEZIO'S CEUCIFIX 85 
 
 he been master instead of apprentice, he could not have 
 resisted the desire to go to his place and take up the 
 work he had left on the previous evening. In a few 
 minutes he was hammering away as busily as though 
 there were no such thing as marriage in the world, and 
 nothing worth living for but the chiselling of beautiful 
 arabesques on a silver ewer. His head was bent over 
 his hands, his eyes followed intently the smallest 
 movements of the tool he held, he forgot everything 
 else, and became wholly absorbed in his occupation. 
 
 Nevertheless, much of a chiseller's work is mechani- 
 cal, and as the smooth iron ran in and out of the tiny 
 curves under the gentle tap of the hammer, the young 
 man's thoughts went back to the girl he had left at 
 the top of the stairs a quarter of an hour earlier ; 
 he thought of her, as he did daily, as his promised 
 wife, and he fell to wondering when it would be, and 
 how it would be. They often talked of the place in 
 which they would live, as they had done that morning ; 
 and as neither of them was very imaginative, there 
 was a considerable similarity between the speculations 
 they indulged in at one time and at another. It was 
 always to be a snug home, high up, with a terrace, pots 
 of carnations, and red curtains. Their only difference 
 of opinion concerned the colour of the walls and furni- 
 ture. Like most Italians, they had very little sense of 
 colour, and thought only of having everything gay, as 
 
86 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, iv 
 
 they called it ; that is to say, the upholstery was to be 
 chosen of the most vivid hues, probably of those hor- 
 rible tints known as aniline. Italians, as a rule, and 
 especially those who belong to the same class as the 
 Pandolfi family, have a strong dislike for the darker 
 and softer tones. To them anything which is not vivid 
 is sad, melancholy, and . depressing to the senses. 
 Gianbattista saw in his mind's eye a little apartment 
 after his own heart, and was happy in the idea. But, 
 as he followed the train of thought, it led him to the 
 comparison of the home to which he proposed to take 
 his wife with the one in which they now lived under 
 her father's roof, and suddenly the scene of the previous 
 evening rose clearly in the young man's imagination. 
 He dropped his hammer, and stared up at the grated 
 windows. 
 
 He went over the whole incident, and perhaps for 
 the first time realised its true importance, and all the 
 danger there might be in the future should Marzio 
 attempt to pursue his plan to the end. Gianbattista 
 had only once seen the lawyer who was thus suddenly 
 thrust into his place. He remembered a thin, cadaver- 
 ous man, iu a long and gloomy black coat, but that 
 was all. He did not recall his voice, nor the expres- 
 sion of his face; he had only seen him once, and had 
 thought little enough of the meeting. It seemed alto- 
 gether impossible, and beyond the bounds of anything 
 
chap. IV MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 87 
 
 rational, that this stranger should ever really be brought 
 forward to be Lucia's husband. 
 
 For a moment the whole thing looked like an evil 
 dream, and Gianbattista smiled as he looked down 
 again at his work. Then the reality of the occurrence 
 rose up again and confronted him stubbornly. He was 
 not mistaken, Marzio had actually pronounced those 
 words, and Don Paolo had sprung forward to prevent 
 Gianbattista from attacking his master then and there. 
 The young man looked at his work, holding his tools 
 in his hands, but hesitating to lay the point of the 
 chisel on the silver, as he hesitated to believe the 
 evidence of his memory. 
 
CHAPTEE V 
 
 Makzio had risen early that morning, as has been 
 said, and had left the house before any one but 
 Gianbattista was up. He was in reality far from 
 inclined to drink his coffee in the company of his 
 apprentice, and would have avoided it, if possible. 
 Nor did he care to meet Lucia until he had found 
 time and occasion to refresh his anger. His wife was 
 too sleepy to quarrel, and hardly seemed to under- 
 stand him when he gave her money and bade her 
 look to Lucia's outfit, adding that the wedding was to 
 take place immediately. 
 
 " Will you not let me sleep in peace, even in the 
 morning ?" she groaned. 
 
 " Magari ! I wish you would sleep, and for ever ! " 
 growled Marzio, as he left the room. 
 
 lie drank his coffee in silence, and went out. After 
 looking into the workshop he walked slowly away in 
 the direction of the Capitol. The damp morning air 
 was pleasant to him, and the gloomy streets through 
 which he passed were agreeable to his state of feeling 
 
chap, v MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 89 
 
 He wished Rome might always wear such a dismal veil 
 of dampness, scirocco, and cloud. 
 
 A man in a bad humour will go out of his way to 
 be rained upon and blown against by the weather. We 
 would all like to change our surroundings with our 
 moods, to fill the world with sunshine when we are 
 happy, and with clouds when we have stumbled in the 
 labyrinths of life. Lovers wish that the whole earth 
 might be one garden, crossed and recrossed by silent 
 moon-lit paths ; and when love lias taken the one and 
 left the other, he who stays behind would Lave his 
 garden changed to an angry ocean, and the sweet moss 
 banks to storm-beaten rocks, that he may drown in the 
 depths, or be dashed to pieces by the waves, before he 
 has had time to know all that he has lost. 
 
 As we grow older, life becomes the expression of a 
 mood, according to the way we have lived. He who 
 seeks peace will find that with advancing age the 
 peaceful moment, that once came so seldom, returns 
 more readily, and that at last the moments unite to 
 make hours, and the hours to build up days and years. 
 He who stoops to petty strife will find that the oft- 
 recurring quarrel has power to perpetuate the discon- 
 tented weakness out of which it springs, and that it 
 can make all life a hell. He who rejoices iu action 
 will learn that activity becomes a habit, and at last ex- 
 cludes the possibility of rest, and the desire for it ; and 
 
90 MAJRZIO'S CRUCIFIX chak v 
 
 his lot is ".the best, for the momentary gladness in a 
 great deed well done is worth a millennium of sinless, 
 nerveless tranquillity. The positive good is as much 
 better than the negative " non-bad," as it is better to 
 save a life than not to destroy a life. But whatever 
 temper of mind we choose will surely become chronic 
 in time, and will be known to those among whom we 
 live as bur temper, our own particular temper, as dis- 
 tinguished from the tempers of other people. 
 
 Marzio had begun life in a bad humour. He 
 delighted in his imaginary grievances, and inliicted his 
 angel" on all who came near him, only varying the 
 manifestation of it to suit the position in which lie 
 chanced to find himself. "With his wife he was over- 
 bearing ; with his brother he was insolent ; with his 
 apprentice he was sullen ; and with his associates at 
 the old Falcone he played the demagogue. The reason 
 of these phases was very simple. His wife could not 
 oppose him, Don Paolo would not wrangle with him, 
 Gianbattista imposed upon him by his superior calm 
 and strength of character, and, lastly,, his socialist 
 friends applauded him and flattered his vanity. It is 
 impossible for a weak man to appear always the same, 
 and his weakness is made the more noticeable when 
 he affects strength. The sinews of goodness are 
 courage, moral and physical, a fact which places all 
 really good men and women beyond the reach of 
 
chap, v MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 91 
 
 ridicule and above the high-water mark of the world's 
 contempt. 
 
 Marzio lacked courage, and his virulence boiled most 
 hotly when he had least to fear for his personal safety. 
 It was owing to this innate weakness that such a 
 combination of artistic sensitiveness and spasmodic 
 arrogance was possible. The man's excitable imagina- 
 tion apprehended opposition where there was none, and 
 his timidity made him fear a struggle, and hate him- 
 self for fearing it. As soon as he was alone, however, 
 his thoughts generally returned to his art, and found 
 expression in the delicate execution of the most ex- 
 quisite fancies. Under other circumstances his char- 
 acter might have developed in a widely different way ; 
 his talent would still have been the same. There is a 
 sort of nervous irritability which acts as a stimulant 
 upon the faculties, and makes them work faster. With 
 Marzio this unnatural state was chronic, and had 
 become so because he had given himself up to it. It 
 is a common disease in cities, where a man is forced to 
 associate with his fellow-men, and to compete with 
 them, whether he is naturally inclined to do so or not. 
 If Marzio could have exercised his art while living as 
 a hermit on the top of a lonely mountain he might 
 have been a much better man. 
 
 He almost understood this himself as he walked 
 slowly through the Via delle Botteghe Oscure — "the 
 
92 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, v 
 
 street of dark shops " — in the early morning. He was 
 thinking of the crucifix he was to make, and the 
 interest he felt in it made him dread the consequences 
 of the previous night's domestic wrangling. He wanted 
 to he alone, and at the same time he wanted to see 
 places and things which should suggest thoughts to 
 him. He did not care whither he went so long as he 
 kept out of the new Rome. "When he reached the 
 little garden in front of San Marco he paused, looked 
 at the deep doorway of the church, remembered the 
 barbarous mosaics within, and turned impatiently into 
 a narrow street on the right — the beginning of the 
 Via di Marforio. 
 
 The network of by-ways in this place is full of old- 
 time memories. Here is the Via Giulio Romano, 
 where the painter himself once lived ; here is the 
 Macel dei Corvi, where Michael Angelo once lodged ; 
 hard by stood the statue of Marforio, christened by the 
 mediaeval Romans after Martis Forum, and famous as 
 the interlocutor of Pasquino. The place was a centre 
 of artists and scholars in those days. Many a simple 
 question was framed here, to fit the two-edged biting 
 answer, repeated from mouth to mouth, and carefully 
 written down among Pasquino's epigrams. First of all 
 the low-born Roman hates all that is, and his next 
 thought is to express his hatred in a stinging satire 
 without being found out. 
 
chap, v MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 93 
 
 Like every real Eoman, Marzio thought of old Mar- 
 forio as he strolled up the narrow street towards the 
 Capitol, and regretted the lawless days of conspiracy 
 and treacherous deeds when every man's hand was 
 against his fellow. He wandered on, his eyes cast 
 down, and his head bent. Some one jostled against 
 him, walking quickly in the opposite direction. He 
 looked up and recognised Gasparo Carnesecchi's sallow 
 face and long nose. 
 
 '' Eh ! Sor Marzio — is it you ? " asked the lawyer. 
 
 " I think so," answered the artist. " Excuse me, I 
 was thinking of something." 
 
 " No matter. Of what were you thinking, then ? 
 Of Pasquino ? " 
 
 " "Why not ? But I was thinking of something 
 else. You are in a hurry, I am sure. Otherwise we 
 would speak of that affair." 
 
 " I am never in a hurry when there is business to be 
 treated," replied Carnesecchi, looking down the street 
 and preparing to listen. 
 
 " You know what I mean," Marzio began. " The 
 matter we spoke of two days ago — my plans for my 
 daughter." 
 
 The lawyer glanced quickly at his friend and 
 assumed an indifferent expression. He was aware 
 that his position was socially superior to that of the 
 silver-chiseller, in spite of Marzio's great talent. But 
 
94 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, v 
 
 he knew also that Lucia was to have a dowry, and 
 that she would ultimately inherit all her father pos- 
 sessed. A dowry covers a multitude of sins in the 
 eyes of a man to whom money is the chief object in 
 life. Carnesecchi, therefore, meant to extract as many 
 thousands of francs from Marzio as should be possible, 
 and prepared himself to bargain. The matter was by 
 no means settled, in spite of the chiseller's instructions 
 to his wife concerning the outfit. 
 
 "We must talk," said Carnesecchi. "Not that I 
 should be altogether averse to coming easily to an 
 understanding, you know. But there are many things 
 to be considered. Let us see." 
 
 " Yes, let us see," assented the other. " My 
 daughter has education. She is also sufficiently well 
 instructed. She could make a fine marriage. But 
 then, you see, I desire a serious person for my son- 
 in-law. "What would you have ? One must be 
 prudent." 
 
 It is not easy to define exactly what a Soman 
 means by the word " serious." In some measure it is 
 the opposite of gay, and especially of what is young 
 and unsettled. The German use of the word Philistine 
 expresses it very nearly. A certain sober, straitlaced 
 way of looking at life, which was considered to repre- 
 sent morality in Borne fifty years ago ; a kind of 
 melancholy superiority over all sorts of amusements, 
 
chap, v MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 95 
 
 joined with a considerable asceticism and the most 
 rigid economy in the household — that is what was 
 meant by the word " serious." To-day its signification 
 has been slightly modified, but a serious man — un uomo 
 serio — still represents to the middle -class father the 
 ideal of the correct son-in-law. 
 
 " Eh, without prudence ! " exclaimed Carnesecchi, 
 elliptically, as though to ask where he himself would 
 have been had he not possessed prudence in abund- 
 ance. 
 
 "Exactly," answered Marzio, biting off the end of 
 a common cigar and fixing his eyes on the lawyer's 
 thin, keen face. " Precisely. I think— of course I 
 do not know — but I think that you are a serious man. 
 But then, I may be mistaken." 
 
 " Well, it is human to err, Sor Marzio. But then, 
 I am no longer of that age — what shall I say ? 
 Everybody knows I am serious. Do I lead the life 
 of the cafe" ? Do I wear out my shoes in Piazza 
 Colonna ? Capers ! I am a serious man." 
 
 '■'Yes," answered Marzio, though with some hesita- 
 tion, as though he were prepared to argue even this 
 point with the sallow-faced lawyer. He struck a 
 match on the gaudy little paper box he carried and 
 began to smoke thoughtfully. " Let us make a couple 
 of steps," he said at last. 
 
 Both men moved slowly on for a few seconds, and 
 
9 6 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, v 
 
 then stopped again. In Italy "a couple of steps" is 
 taken literally. 
 
 " Let us see," said Carnesecchi. " Let us look at 
 things as they are. In these days there are many 
 excellent opportunities for investing money." 
 
 " Hum ! " grunted Marzio, pulling a long face and 
 looking up under his eyebrows. " I know that is your 
 opinion, Sor Gasparo. I am sorry that you should put 
 so much faith in the stability of things. So you, too, 
 have got the malady of speculation. I suppose you 
 are thinking of building a Palazzo Carnesecchi out at 
 Sant' Agnese in eight floors and thirty-two apart- 
 ments." 
 
 "Yes, I am mad," answered the lawyer ironically. 
 
 " Who knows ? " returned the other. " I tell you 
 they are building a Pompeii in those new quarters. 
 When you and I are old men, crazy Englishmen will 
 pay two francs to be allowed to wander about the 
 ruins." 
 
 " It may be. I am not thinking of building. In 
 the first place I have not the soldi." 
 
 " And if you had ? " inquired Marzio. 
 
 " What nonsense ! Besides, no one has. It is all 
 done on credit, and the devil take the hindmost. But 
 if I really had a million— eh ! I know what I would 
 do." 
 
 " Let us hear. I also know what I would do. 
 
CHAP, v MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 97 
 
 Basta ! What is the use of building castles in the 
 air ? " 
 
 " In the air, or not in the air, if I had a million, 
 I know what I would do." 
 
 " I would have a newspaper," said Marzio. " Whew ! 
 how it would sting ! " 
 
 " It would sting you, and bleed you into the bar- 
 gain," returned the lawyer with some contempt. " No 
 one makes money out of newspapers in these times. 
 If I had money, I would be a deputy. With prud- 
 ence there is much to be earned in the Chambers, and 
 petitioners know that they must .pay cash." 
 
 " It is certainly a career," assented the artist. " But, 
 as you say, it needs money for the first investment." 
 
 "Not so much as a million, though. With a good 
 opening, and some knowledge of the law, a small sum 
 would be enough." 
 
 " It is a career, as I said," repeated Marzio. " But 
 five thousand francs would not give you an introduc- 
 tion to it." 
 
 " Five thousand francs ! " exclaimed Carnesecchi, 
 with a scornful laugh. " With five thousand francs 
 you had better play at the lottery. After all, if you 
 lose, it is nothing." 
 
 " It is a great deal of money, Sor Gasparo," replied 
 the chiseller. " When you have made it little by 
 little — then you know what it means." 
 
 H 
 
98 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, v 
 
 " Perhaps. But we have been standing here more 
 than a quarter of an hour, and I have a client waiting 
 for me about a big affair, an affair of millions.'' 
 
 " Bacchus ! " ejaculated Marzio. " You are not iu 
 a hurry about the matter. Well, we can always talk, 
 and I will not keep you." 
 
 " "We might walk together, and say what we have 
 to say." 
 
 " I am going to the Capitol," Marzio said, for he 
 had been walking in that direction when they met. 
 
 " That is my way, too," answered the lawyer, for- 
 getting that he had run into Marzio as he came down 
 the street. 
 
 " Eh ! That is lucky," remarked the artist with an 
 almost imperceptible smile. " As I was saying," he 
 continued, " five thousand francs is not the National 
 Bank, but it is a very pretty little sum, especially 
 when there is something more to be expected in the 
 future." 
 
 " That depends on the future. But I do not call it 
 a sum. Nothing under twenty thousand is a sum, 
 properly speaking." 
 
 " Who has twenty thousand francs ?" laughed Marzio, 
 shrugging his shoulders with an incredulous look. 
 
 "You talk as though Eome were an asylum for 
 paupers," returned Carnesecchi. "AVho has twenty 
 thousand francs ? Why, everybody has. You have, 
 
chap, v MAUZIO'S CRUCIFIX 99 
 
 I have. One must be a beggar not to have that 
 much. After all, we are talking about business, Sor 
 Marzio. Why should I not say it ? I have always 
 said that I would not many with less than that for a 
 dowry. Why should one throw away one's oppor- 
 tunities 1 To please some one ? It is not my business 
 to try and please everybody. One must be just." 
 
 " Of course. _ What ? Am I not just ? But if 
 justice were done, where would some people be ? I 
 say it, too. If you marry my daughter, you will 
 expect a dowry. Have I denied it ? And then, five 
 thousand is not so little. There is the outfit, too ; I 
 have to pay for that." 
 
 " That is not my affair," laughed the lawyer. " That 
 is the business of the woman. But five thousand 
 francs is not my affair either. Think of the responsi- 
 bilities a man incurs when he marries ! Five thousand ! 
 It is not even a cup of coffee ! You are talking to a 
 galantuomo, an honest man, Sor Marzio. Reflect a 
 little." 
 
 " I reflect — yes ! I reflect that you ask a great 
 deal of money, Signor Carnesecchi," replied Marzio with 
 some irritation. 
 
 " I never heard that anybody gave money unless it 
 was asked for." 
 
 " It will not be for lack of asking if you do not get 
 it," retorted the artist. 
 
100 MABZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap. *■ 
 
 " What do you mean, Signor Pandolfi ? " inquired 
 Carnesecchi, drawing himself up to his full height and 
 then striking his hollow chest with his lean hand. 
 " Do you mean that I am begging money of you ? Do 
 you mean to insult an honest man, a galantuomo? 
 By heaven, Signor Pandolfi, I would have you know 
 that Gasparo Carnesecchi never asked a favour of any 
 man ! Do you understand ? Let us speak clearly." 
 
 "Who has said anything?" asked Marzio. "Why 
 do you heat yourself in this way ? And then, after 
 all, we shall arrange this affair. You wish it. I wish 
 it. Why should it not be arranged ? If five thousand 
 does not suit you, name a sum. We are Christians — 
 we will doubtless arrange. But we must talk. How 
 much should you think, Sor Gasparo ? " 
 
 "I have said it. .As I told you just now, I have 
 always said that I would not marry with less than 
 eighteen thousand francs of dowry. What is the use 
 of repeating ? Words are not roasted chestnuts." 
 
 "Nor eighteen thousand francs either," answered 
 the other. " Magari ! I wish they were. You should 
 have them in a moment. But a franc is a franc." 
 
 " I did not say it was a cabbage," observed Carne- 
 secchi. " After all, why should I marry ? " 
 
 " Perhaps you will not/' suggested Marzio, who was 
 encouraged to continue the negotiations, however, by 
 the diminution in the lawyer's demands. 
 
CHAV. V MARZIO S CRUCIFIX 101 
 
 " "Why not ? " asked the latter sharply. " Do you 
 think nobody else has daughters ? " 
 
 " If it comes to that, why have you not married 
 before ? " 
 
 " Because I did hot choose to marry," answered 
 Carnesecchi, beginning to walk more briskly, as though 
 to push the matter to a conclusion. 
 
 Marzio said nothing in reply. He saw that his 
 friend was pressing him, and understood that, to do 
 so, the lawyer must be anxious to marry Lucia. 
 The chiseller therefore feigned indifference, and was 
 silent for some minutes. At the foot of the steps of 
 the Capitol he stopped again. 
 
 " You know, Sor Gasparo," he said, " the reason why 
 I did' not arrange about Lucia's marriage a long time 
 ago, was because I was not particularly in a hurry to 
 have her married at all. And I am not in a hurry 
 now, either. We shall have plenty of opportunities 
 of discussing the matter hereafter. Good-bye, Sor 
 Gasparo. I have business up there, and that client of 
 yours is perhaps impatient about his millions." 
 
 "Good-bye," answered Carnesecchi. "There is 
 plenty of time, as you say. Perhaps we may meet 
 this evening at the Falcone." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Marzio drily, and turned away. 
 
 He had a good understanding of his friend's char- 
 acter, and though in his present mood he would have 
 
102 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, v 
 
 been glad to fix the wedding day, and sign the marriage 
 contract at once, he had no intention of yielding to 
 Carnesecchi's exorbitant demands. The lawyer was in 
 need of money, Marzio thought, and as he himself was 
 the possessor of what the other coveted, there could be 
 little doubt as to the side on which the advantage 
 would ultimately be taken. Marzio went half-way up 
 the steps of the Capitol, and then stopped to look at 
 the two wretched wolves which the Eoman municipality 
 thinks it incumbent on the descendants of Eomulus to 
 support. He thought one of them very like Camesecchi. 
 He watched the poor beasts a moment or two as they 
 tramped and swung and pressed their lean sides against 
 the bars of their narrow cage. 
 
 " What a sympathetic animal it is !" he exclaimed 
 aloud. A passer-by stared at him and then went on 
 hurriedly, fearing that he might be mad. Indeed, 
 there was a sort of family likeness between the lawyer, 
 the chiseller, and the wolves. 
 
 Other thoughts, however, occupied Marzio's atten- 
 tion ; and as soon as he was sure that his friend was 
 out of the way, he descended the steps. He did not 
 care whither he went, but he had no especial reason 
 for climbing the steep ascent to the Capitol. The 
 crucifix his brother had ordered from him on the pre- 
 vious evening engaged his attention, and it was as 
 much for the sake of being alone and of thinking about 
 
CHAP. V MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 103 
 
 the work that he had taken his solitary morning walk, 
 as with the hope of finding in some church a sugges- 
 tion or inspiration which might serve him. He knew 
 what was to he found in Eoman churches well enough ; 
 the Crucifixion in the Trinita dei Pellegrini and the 
 one in San Lorenzo in Lucina — both by Guido Eeni, 
 and both eminently unsympathetic to his conception of 
 the subject — he had often looked at them, and did 
 not care to see them again. At last he entered the 
 Church of the Gesu, and sat down upon a chair in a 
 corner. 
 
 He did not look up. The interior of the building 
 was as familiar to him as the outside. He sat in pro- 
 found thought, occasionally twisting his soft hat in his 
 hands, and then again remaining quite motionless. He 
 did not know how long he stayed there. The perfect 
 silence was pleasant to him, and when he rose he felt 
 that the idea he had sought was found, and could be 
 readily expressed. With a sort of sigh of satisfaction 
 he went out again into the air and walked quickly 
 towards his workshop. 
 
 The men told him that Gianbattista was busy 
 within, and after glancing sharply at the work which 
 was proceeding, Marzio opened the inner door and 
 entered the studio. He strode up to the table and 
 took up the body of the ewer, which lay on its pad 
 where he had left it the night before. He held it in 
 
104 MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, v 
 
 his hands for a moment, and then, pushing the leather 
 cushion towards Gianbattista, laid it down. 
 
 "Finish it," he said shortly; "I have something 
 else to do." 
 
 The apprentice looked up in astonishment, as though 
 he suspected that Marzio was jesting. 
 
 " I am afraid " he answered with hesitation. 
 
 " It makes no difference ; finish it as best you can ; 
 I am sick of it ; you will do it well enough. If it is 
 bad, I will take the responsibility." 
 
 " Do you mean me really to finish it — altogether ?" 
 " Yes ; I tell you I have a great work on hand. I 
 cannot waste my time over such toys as acanthus 
 leaves and cherubs' eyes !" He bent down and ex- 
 amined the thing carefully. " You had better lay 
 aside the neck and take up the body just where I left 
 it, Tista," he continued. "The scirocco is in your 
 favour. If it turns cold to-morrow the cement may 
 shrink, and you will have to melt it out again." 
 
 Marzio spoke to him as though there had not been 
 the least difference between them, as though Gianbat- 
 tista had not proposed to cut his throat the night 
 before, as though he himself had not proposed to 
 marry Carnesecchi to Lucia. 
 
 " Take my place," he said. " The cord is the Tight 
 length for you, as it is too short for me. I am going 
 to model." 
 
CHAP. T MARZIO 'S CRUCIFIX 105 
 
 "Without more words Marzio went and took a large 
 and heavy slate from the corner, washed it carefully, 
 and dried it with his handkerchief. Then he provided 
 himself with a bowl full of twisted lengths of red wax, 
 and with a couple of tools he sat down to his- work. 
 Gianbattista, having changed his seat, looked over the 
 tools his master had been using, with a workman's 
 keen glance, and, taking up his own hammer, attacked 
 the task given him. For some time neither of the 
 men spoke. 
 
 " I have been to church," remarked Marzio at last, 
 as he softened a piece of wax between - bis fingers 
 before laying it on the slate. The news was so 
 astounding that Gianbattista uttered an exclamation 
 of surprise. 
 
 " You need not be frightened," answered the 
 artist. " I only went to look at a picture, and I 
 did not look at it after all. I shall go to a great 
 many more churches before I have finished this 
 piece of work. You ought to go to the churches and 
 study, Tista. Everything is useful in our art — pic- 
 tures, statues, mosaics, metal-work. Now I believe 
 there is not a really good crucifix, nor a crucifixion, in 
 Eome. It is strange, too, I have dreamed of one all 
 my life." 
 
 Gianbattista did not find any answer ready in reply 
 to the statement. The words sounded so strangely in- 
 
106 MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap. ^ 
 
 Marzio's mouth this morning, that the apprentice was 
 confused. And yet the two had often discussed the 
 subject before. 
 
 " You do not seem to believe me," continued Marzio 
 quietly. " I assure you it is a fact. The other thicgs 
 of the kind are not much better either. Works of art, 
 perhaps, but not satisfactory. Even Michael Angelo's 
 Pietd, in Saint Peter's does not please me. They say 
 it did not please the people of his time either- — he was 
 too young to do anything of that sort — he was younger 
 than you, Tista, only twenty-four years old when he 
 made that statue." 
 
 " Yes," answered Gianbattista, " I have heard you 
 say so." He bent over his work, wondering what his 
 master meant by this declaration of taste. It seemed 
 as though Marzio felt the awkwardness of the situation 
 and was exerting himself to make conversation. The 
 idea was so strange that the apprentice could almost 
 have laughed. Marzio continued to soften the wax 
 between his fingers, and to lay the pieces of it on the 
 elate, pressing them roughly into the shape of a figure. 
 
 " Has Paolo been here ?" asked the master after 
 another long pause. 
 
 Gianbattista merely shook his head to express a 
 negative. 
 
 " Then he will come," continued Marzio. " He will 
 not leave me in peace all day, you may be sure." 
 
chap. V MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 107' 
 
 " What should he come for ? He never comes," 
 said the young man. 
 
 " He will be afraid that I will have Lucia married 
 before supper time. I know him — and he knows 
 me." 
 
 " If he thinks that, he does not know you at all," 
 answered Gianbattista quietly. 
 
 " Indeed ?" exclaimed Marzio, raising his voice to 
 the ironical tone he usually affected when any one 
 contradicted him. "To-day, to-morrow, or the next 
 day, what does it matter 1 I told you last night that 
 I had made up my mind." 
 
 " And I told you that I had made up mine." 
 
 " Oh yes — boy's threats ! I am not the man to be 
 intimidated by that sort of thing. Look here, Tista, I 
 am in earnest. I have considered this matter a long 
 time ; I have determined that I will not be brow- 
 beaten any longer by two women and a priest — cer- 
 tainly not by you. If things go on as they are going, 
 I shall soon not be master in my own house." 
 
 "You would be the only loser," retorted Gianbat- 
 tista. 
 
 " Have done with this, Tista ! " exclaimed Marzio 
 angrily. " I am tired of your miserable jokes. You 
 have gone over to the enemy, you are Paolo's man, and 
 if I tolerate you here any longer it is merely because 
 I have taught you something, and you are worth your 
 
108 MAEZIO'S CKUCIFIX CHAP, v 
 
 wages. As for the way I liave treated you during all 
 these years, I cannot imagine how I could have been 
 such a fool. I should think anybody might see 
 through your hypocritical ways.'' 
 
 " Go on," said Gianbattista calmly. " You know 
 our bargain of last night." 
 
 " I will risk that. If I see any signs of your ami- 
 able temper I will have you arrested for threatening 
 my life. I am not afraid of you, my boy, but I do 
 not care to die just at present. You have all had your 
 way long enough, I mean to have mine now." 
 
 " Let us talk reasonably, Sor Marzio. You say we 
 have had our way. You talk as though you had been 
 in slavery in your own house. I do not think that is 
 the opinion of your wife, nor of your daughter. As 
 for me, I have done nothing but execute your orders 
 for years, and if I have learnt something, it has not 
 been by trying to overrule you or by disregarding your 
 advice. Two years ago, you almost suggested to me 
 that I should marry Lucia. Of course, I asked nothing 
 better, and we agreed to wait until she was old enough. 
 "We discussed the matter a thousand times. We settled 
 the details. I agreed to go on working for the same 
 small wages instead of leaving you, as I might have 
 done, to seek my fortune elsewhere. You see I am 
 calm, I acknowledge that I was grateful to you for 
 having taught me so much, and I am grateful still. 
 
CHAl'. V MAItZIo'S CRUCIFIX 109 
 
 You have just given me another proof of your con- 
 fidence in putting this work into my hands to finish. 
 I am grateful for that. Well, we have talked of the 
 marriage often ; I have lived in your house ; I have 
 seen Lucia every day, for you have let us be together 
 as much as we pleased ; the result is that I not only 
 am more anxious to marry her than I was before — I 
 love her ; I am not ashamed to say so. I know you 
 laugh at women and say they are no better than 
 monkeys with parrots' heads. I differ from you. Lucia 
 is an angel, and I love her as she loves me. "What 
 happens ? One day you take an unreasonable dislike 
 for me, without even warning me of the fact, and then, 
 suddenly, last night, you come home and say she is to 
 marry the Avvocato Gasparo Carnesecchi. Now, for a 
 man who has taught me that there is no God but 
 reason, all this strikes me as very unreasonable. 
 Honestly, Sor Marzio, do you not think so your- 
 self ? " 
 
 Marzio looked at his apprentice and frowned, as 
 though hesitating whether to lose his temper and 
 launch into the invective style, or to answer Gian- 
 battista reasonably. Apparently he decided in favour 
 of the more peaceable course. 
 
 " It is unworthy of a man who follows reason to 
 lose his self-control and indulge in vain threats," he 
 answered, assuming a grand didactic air. " You attempt 
 
110 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, v 
 
 to argue with me. I will show you what argument 
 really means, and whither it leads. Now answer me some 
 questions, Tista, and I will prove that you are alto- 
 gether in the wrong. When a man is devoted to a 
 great and glorious cause, should he not do everything 
 in his power to promote its success against those who 
 oppose it ? " 
 
 " Undoubtedly," assented Gianbattista. 
 
 "And should not a man be willing to sacrifice his 
 individual preferences in order to support and to 
 further the great end of his life ?" 
 
 " Bacchus ! I believe it ! " 
 
 " Then how much the more easy must it be for a 
 man to support his cause when there are no individual 
 preferences in the way ! " said Marzio triumphantly. 
 " That is true reason, my boy. That is the inevitable 
 logic of the great system." 
 
 " I do not understand the allegory/' answered Gian- 
 battista. 
 
 " It is as simple as roasted chestnuts," returned 
 Marzio. " Even if I liked you, it would be my duty 
 to prevent you from marrying Lucia. As I do not 
 like you — you understand ? " 
 
 " I understand that," replied the young man. " For 
 some reason or other you hate me. But, apart from 
 the individual preferences, which you say it is your 
 duty to overcome, I do not see why you are morally 
 
ghap. V MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 111 
 
 obliged to hinder our marriage, after having felt 
 morally obliged to promote it ? " 
 
 "Because you are a traitor to the cause," cried 
 Marzio, with sudden fierceness. " Because you are a 
 friend of Paolo. Is not that enough?" 
 
 " Poor Don Paolo seems to stick in your throat," 
 observed Gianbattista. "I do not see what lie has 
 done, except that he prevented me from killing you 
 last night ! " 
 
 " Paolo ! Paolo is a snake, a venomous viper ! It 
 is his business, his only aim in life, to destroy my 
 peace, to pervert my daughter from the wholesome 
 views I have tried to teach her, to turn you aside from 
 the narrow path of austere Italian virtue, to draw you 
 away from following in the footsteps of Brutus, of 
 Cassius, of the great Bomans, of me, your teacher and 
 master ! That is all Paolo cares for, and it is enough 
 — more than enough ! And he shall pay me for his 
 presumptuous interference, the villain ! " 
 
 Marzio's voice sank into a hissing whisper as he 
 bent over the wax he was twisting and pressing. 
 Gianbattista glanced at his pale face, and inwardly 
 wondered at the s.trange mixture of artistic genius, of 
 bombastic rhetoric and relentless hatred, all combined 
 in the strange man whom destiny had given him for a 
 master. He wondered, too, how he had ever been 
 able to admire the contrasts of virulence and weakness, 
 
112 MARZIo's CRUCIFIX CHAP, v 
 
 of petty hatred and impossible aspirations which had 
 of late revealed themselves to him in a new light. 
 Have we not most of us assisted -at the breaking of the 
 Image of Baal, at the destruction of an imaginary 
 representative of an illogical ideal ? 
 
 "Well, Sor Marzio," said Gianbattista after a pause, 
 " if I were to return to my worship of you and your 
 principles — what would you do ? Would you take me 
 back to your friendship and give me your daughter ?" 
 
 Marzio looked up suddenly, and stared at the 
 apprentice in surprise. But the fresh young face gave 
 no sign. Gianbattista had spoken quietly, and was 
 again intent upon his work. 
 
 " If you gave me a proof of your sincerity," answered 
 Marzio, in low tones, " I would do much for you. Yes, 
 I would give you Lucia^and the business too, when I 
 am too old to work. But it must be a serious proof 
 — no child's play." 
 
 " What do you call a serious proof ? A profession 
 of faith ? " 
 
 '■' Yes — sealed with the red wax that is a little 
 thicker than water," answered Marzio grimly, his eyes 
 still fixed on&Gianbattista's face. 
 
 " In blood," said the young man calmly. " Whose 
 blood would you like, Sor Marzio ? " 
 
 " Paolo's ! " 
 
 The chiseller spoke in a scarcely audible whisper, 
 
CHAP. V MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 113 
 
 and bent low over his slate, modelling hard at the 
 figure under his fingers. 
 
 " I thought so," muttered Gianbattista between his 
 teeth. Then he raised his voice a little and continued : 
 "And have you the courage, Sor Marzio, to sit there 
 and bargain with me to kill your brother, bribing me 
 with the offer of your daughter's hand ? Why do you 
 not kill him yourself, since you talk of such things ? " 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear Tista — I was only jesting," 
 said the other nervously. " It is just like your folly 
 to take ine in earnest." The anger had died out of 
 Marzio's voice and he spoke almost persuasively. 
 
 " I do not know," answered the young man. " I 
 think you were in earnest for a moment. I would 
 not advise you to talk in that way before any one 
 else. People might interpret your meaning seri- 
 ously." 
 
 " After all, you yourself were threatening to cut my 
 throat last night," said Marzio, with a forced laugh. 
 " It is the same thing. My life is as valuable as 
 Paolo's. I only suggested that you should transfer 
 your tender attentions from me to my brother." 
 
 " It is one thing to threaten a man to his face. It 
 is quite another to offer a man a serious inducement 
 to commit murder. Since you have been so very 
 frank with me, Sor Marzio, I will confess that if the 
 choice lay between killing you, or killing Don Paolo, 
 
 I 
 
114 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, v 
 
 under the present circumstances I would not hesitate 
 a moment." 
 
 " And which woidd you " 
 
 " Neither," replied the young man, with a cool laugh. 
 " Don Paolo is too good to be killed, and you are not 
 good enough. Come and look at the cherub's head I 
 have made." 
 
CHAPTEE VI 
 
 Lucia's cheerfulness was not genuine, and any one 
 possessing greater penetration than her mother would 
 have understood that she was, in reality, more fright- 
 ened than she was willing to show. The girl had a 
 large proportion of common sense, combined with a 
 quicker perception than the stout Signora Pandolfi. 
 She did not think that she knew anything about logic, 
 and she had always shown a certain inconsistency in 
 her affection for Gianbattista, but she had nevertheless 
 a very clear idea of what was reasonable, a quality 
 which is of immense value in difficulties, though it is 
 very often despised in every-day life by people who 
 believe themselves blessed by the inspirations of 
 genius. 
 
 It seems very hard to make people of other nation- 
 alities understand that the Italians of the present day 
 are not an imaginative people. It is nevertheless true, 
 and it is only necessary to notice that they produce 
 few, if any, works of imagination. They have no 
 writers of fiction, no poets, few composers of merit 
 
116 MAEZIO'S CEUCIFIX CHAP, n 
 
 and few artists who rank with those of other nations. 
 They possessed the creative faculty once; they have 
 lost it in our day, and it does not appear that they are 
 likely to regain it. On the other hand, the Italians 
 are remarkable engineers, first-rate mathematicians, 
 clever, if unscrupulous, diplomatists. Though they 
 overrate their power and influence, they have shown a 
 capacity for organisation which is creditable on the 
 whole. If they fail to obtain the position they seek 
 in Europe, their failure will have been due to their 
 inordinate vanity aod over-governing, if I may coin 
 the word, rather than to an innate want of intel- 
 ligence. 
 
 The qualities and defects of the Italian nation all 
 existed in the Pandolfi family. Marzio possessed more 
 imagination than most of his countrymen, and he had, 
 besides, that extraordinary skill in his manual execu- 
 tion of his work, which Italians have often exhibited 
 on a large scale. On the other hand, he was full of 
 bombastic talk about principles which he called great. 
 His A r iews concerning society, government, and the 
 future of his country, were entirely without balance, 
 and betrayed an amazing ignorance of the laws which 
 direct the destinies of mankind. He suffered in a 
 remarkable degree from that mental disease which 
 afflicts Italians — the worship of the fetish — of words 
 which mean little, and are supposed to mean much, of 
 
CHAP. VI MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 117 
 
 names in history which have been exalted by the 
 rhetoric of demagogues from the obscurity to which 
 they had been wisely consigned by the judgment of 
 scholars. He was alternately weak and despotic, 
 cunning about small things which concerned his own 
 fortunes, and amazingly foolish about the set of ideas 
 which he loosely defined as politics. 
 
 Lucia's nature illustrated another phase of the Italian 
 character, and one which, if it is less remarkable, is 
 much more agreeable. She possessed the character 
 which looks at everything from the point of view of 
 daily life. Without imagination, she regarded only 
 the practical side of existence. Her vanity was confined 
 to a modest wish to make the best of her appearance, 
 while her ambition went no further than the strictest 
 possibility, in the shape of a marriage with Gianbattista 
 Bordogni, and a simple little apartment with a terrace 
 and pots of pinks. Had she known how much richer 
 her father was than she suspected him of being, the 
 enlargement of her views for the future would have 
 been marked by a descent, from the fourth story of 
 the house which was to be her imaginary home, to the 
 third story. It could never have entered her head 
 that Gianbattista ought to give up his profession until 
 he was too old to work any longer. In her estima- 
 tion, the mere possession of money could not justify 
 a change of social position. She had been accustomed 
 
118 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap. VI 
 
 from her childhood to hear her father air his views in 
 regard to the world in general, but his preaching had 
 produced but lit'tle impression upon her. When he 
 thought she was listening in profound attention to his 
 discourse, she was usually wishing that he could be 
 made to see the absurdity of his theories. She wished 
 also that he would sacrifice some of his enthusiasm 
 for the sake of a little more quiet in the house, for 
 she saw that his talking distressed her mother. Further 
 than this she cared little what he said, and not at all 
 for what he thought. Her mind was generally occu- 
 pied with the one subject which absorbed her thoughts, 
 and which had grown to be by far the most important 
 part of her nature, her love for Gianbattista Bordogni. 
 Upon that point she was inflexible. Her Uncle 
 Paolo might have led her to change her mind in 
 regard to many things, for she was open to persuasion 
 where her common sense was concerned. But in her 
 love for Gianbattista she was fixed and determined. 
 It would have been more easy to turn her father from 
 his ideas than to make Lucia give up the man she 
 loved. When Marzio had suddenly declared that she 
 should marry the lawyer, her first feeling had been one 
 of ungovernable anger which had soon found vent in 
 tears. During the night she had thought the matter 
 over, and had come to the conclusion that it was only 
 an evil jest, invented by Marzio to give her pain. 
 
chap. VI MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 119 
 
 But in the morning it seemed to her as though on the 
 far horizon a black cloud of possible trouble were 
 gathering ; she had admitted to herself that her father 
 might be in earnest, and she had felt something like 
 the anticipation of the great struggle of her life. 
 Then she felt that she would die rather than submit. 
 
 She had no theatrical desire to swear a fearful oath 
 with Gianbattista that they should drown themselves 
 at the Ponte Quattro Capi rather than be separated. 
 Her nature was not dramatic, any more than his. 
 The young girl dressed herself quickly, and made up 
 her mind that if any pressure were brought to bear 
 upon her she would not yield, but that, until then, 
 there was no use in making phrases, and it would be 
 better to be as cheerful as possible under the circum- 
 stances. But for Lucia's reassuring manner, the 
 Signora Pandolfi would have doubtless succumbed to 
 her feelings and gone to bed. Lucia, however, had no 
 intention of allowing her mother any such weakness, 
 and accordingly alternately comforted her and sug- 
 gested means of escape from the position, as though 
 she were herself the mother and~Maria Luisa were her 
 child. 
 
 They found Don Paolo in his small lodging, and he 
 bid them enter, that they might all talk the matter 
 over. 
 
 " In the first place," said the priest, " it is wrong. 
 
120 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. VI 
 
 In the second place it is impossible. Thirdly, Marzio 
 will not attempt to carry out his threat." 
 
 " Dear me ! How simple you make it seem ! " 
 exclaimed the Signora Pandolfi, reviving at his first 
 words, like a tired horse when he sees the top of the 
 hill. 
 
 " But if papa should try and force me to it — what 
 then ? " asked Lucia, who was not so easily satisfied. 
 
 " He cannot force you to it, my child — -the law 
 will not allow him to do so. I told you so last 
 night." 
 
 " But the law is so far off — and he is so violent," 
 answered the young girl. 
 
 " Never fear," said Don Paolo, reassuring her. " I 
 will manage it all. There will be a struggle, perhaps ; 
 but I will make him see reason. He had been with 
 his friends last night, and his mind was excited; he 
 was not himself. He will have thought differently of 
 it this morning." 
 
 " On the contrary," put in the Signora Pandolfi, 
 " he waked me up at daylight and gave me a quantity 
 of money to go and buy Lucia's outfit. And he will 
 come home at midday and ask to see the tilings I 
 have brought, and so I thought perhaps we had better 
 buy something just to show him — half a dozen hand- 
 kerchiefs — something to make a figure, you under- 
 stand ? " 
 
CHAP. VI MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 121 
 
 Don Paolo smiled, and Lucia looked sympathetically 
 from him to her mother. 
 
 " I am afraid that half a dozen handkerchiefs would 
 have a bad effect," said the priest. " Either he would see 
 that you are not in earnest, and then he would be very 
 angry, or else he would be deceived and would think 
 that you were really buying the outfit. In that 
 case you would have done harm. This thing must 
 not go any further. The idea must be got out of bis 
 head as soon as possible." 
 
 " But if I do nothing at all before dinner he will be 
 furious — he will cry out that we are all banded to- 
 gether against him " 
 
 " So we are," said Don Paolo simply. 
 
 "Oh 'dear, oh dear!" moaned the Signora Pandolfi, 
 looking for her handkerchief in the anticipation of 
 fresh tears. 
 
 " Do not cry, mamma. It is of no use," said Lucia. 
 
 "No, it is of no use to cry," assented the priest. 
 " There is nothing to be done but to go and face 
 Marzio, and not have him until he has changed his 
 mind. You are afraid to meet him at midday. I will 
 go now to the workshop and find, him." 
 
 " Oh, you are an angel, Paolo ! " cried Maria Luisa, 
 regaining her composure and replacing her handker- 
 chief in her pocket. "Then we need not buy any- 
 thin" ? What a relief ! " 
 
122 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. VI 
 
 " I told you Uncle Paolo would know what to do," 
 said Lucia. " He is so good — and so courageous. I 
 would not like to face papa tins morning. Will you 
 really go, Uncle Paolo ? " The young girl went and 
 took down his cloak and hat from a peg on the wall, 
 and brought them to him. 
 
 " Of course I will go, and at once," he answered. 
 " But I must give you a word of advice." 
 
 " "We will do everything you tell us," said the two 
 women together. 
 
 " You must not ask him any questions, nor refer to 
 the matter at all when he comes home." 
 
 " Diana ! I would as soon speak of death ! " ex- 
 claimed the Signora Pandolfi. 
 
 " And if he begins to talk about it you must not 
 answer him, nor irritate him in any way." 
 
 " Be easy about that," answered the fat lady. 
 " Never meddle with sleeping dogs — I know." 
 
 "If he grows very angry you must refer him to 
 me." 
 
 " Oh, but that is another matter ! I would rather 
 offer pepper to a cat than talk to him of you. You 
 would see how he would curse and swear and call 
 you by bad names." 
 
 "Well, you must not do anything to make him 
 swear, because that would be a sin ; but if he only 
 abuses me, I do not mind. He will do that when I 
 
CUAP. VI MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 123 
 
 talk to him. Perhaps after all, if he mentions the 
 matter, you had better remain silent." 
 
 " Eh ! that will be easy. He talks so much, and 
 he talks so fast, never waiting for an answer. But 
 are you not afraid for yourself, dear Paolo ? " 
 
 " Oh, he will not hurt me — I am not afraid of him," 
 answered the priest. " He will talk a little, he will 
 use some big words, and then it will be finished. You 
 see, it is not a great thing, after all. Take courage, 
 Maria Luisa, it will be a matter of half an hour." 
 
 " Heaven grant it may be only that ! " murmured 
 Marzio's wife, turning up her eyes, and rising from 
 her chair. 
 
 Lucia, who, as has been said, had a very keen ap- 
 preciation of facts, did not believe that things would 
 go so smoothly. 
 
 " You had better come back, with him to our house 
 when it is all over," she said, "just to give us a sign 
 that it is settled, you know, Uncle Paolo." 
 
 Don Paolo himself had his doubts about the issue, 
 although he put such a brave face on it, and in spite 
 of the Signora Pandolfi. That good lady was by nature 
 very sincere, but she always seemed to bring an irrele- 
 vant and comic element into the proceedings. 
 
 The result of the interview was that, in half an 
 hour, Don Paolo knocked at the door of the workshop in 
 the Via dei Falegnami, where Marzio and Gianbattista 
 
124 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap. VI 
 
 ■were at work. The chiseller's voice bade him 
 enter. 
 
 Don Paolo had not found much time to collect his 
 thoughts before he reached the scene of battle, but his 
 opinion of the matter in hand was well formed. He 
 loved his niece, and he had begun to like Gianbattista. 
 He knew the lawyer, Carnesecchi, by reputation, and 
 what he had heard of him did not prejudice him in 
 the man's favour. It would have been the same had 
 Marzio chosen any one else. Tn the priest's estima- 
 tion, Gianbattista had a right to expect the fulfilment 
 of the many promises which had been made to him. 
 To break those promises for no ostensible reason, just 
 as Gianbattista seemed to be growing up to be a 
 sensible man, was an act of injustice which Don Paolo 
 would not permit if he could help it. Gianbattista 
 was not, perhaps, a model man, but, by contrast with 
 Marzio, he seemed almost saintly. He had a good 
 disposition and no vices ; married to Lucia and devoted 
 to his art, much might be expected of him. On the 
 other hand, Gasparo Carnesecchi represented the devil 
 in person. He was known to. be an advanced free- 
 thinker, a radical, and, perhaps, worse than a radical — 
 a socialist. He was certainly not very rich, and 
 Lucia's dowry would be an object to him ; he would 
 doubtless spend the last copper of the money in at- 
 tempting to be elected to the Chambers. If he sue- 
 
CHAP. VI MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 125 
 
 ceeded, lie would represent another unit in that ill- 
 guided minority which has for its sole end the sub- 
 version of the existing state of thinsrs. He would 
 probably succeed in getting back the money he had 
 spent, and more also, by illicit means. If he failed, 
 the money would be lost, and he would go from bad 
 to worse, intriguing and mixing himself up with the 
 despicable radical press, in the hope of getting a hear- 
 ing and a place. 
 
 There is a scale in the meaning of the word socialist. 
 In France it means about the same thing as a com- 
 munist, when one uses plain language. When one 
 uses the language of Monsieur Drumont, it means a 
 Jew. In England a socialist is equal to a French 
 conservative republican. In America it means a thief. 
 In Germany it means an ingenious individual of 
 restricted financial resources, who generally fails to 
 blow up some important personage with wet dynamite. 
 In Italy a socialist is an anarchist pure and simple, 
 who wishes to destroy everything existing for the sake 
 of dividing a wealth which does not exist at all. It 
 also means a young man who orders a glass of water 
 and a toothpick at a cafi, and is able to talk politics 
 for a considerable time on this slender nourishment. 
 Simior Succi and Skrnor Merlatti have discovered 
 nothing new. Their miracles of fasting may be ob- 
 served by the curious at any time in a Eoman cafi. 
 
126 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, vi 
 
 Don Paolo regarded the mere idea of an alliance 
 with Gasparo Carnesecchi as an outrage upon common 
 sense, and when he entered Marzio's workshop he was 
 determined to say so. Marzio looked up with an air 
 of inquiry, and Gianbattista foresaw what was coming. 
 He nodded to the priest, and brought forward the old 
 straw chair from the corner; then he returned to his 
 work in silence. 
 
 " You will have guessed my errand," Don Paolo 
 began, by way of introducing his subject. 
 
 " No," answered Marzio doggedly. " Something about 
 the crucifix, I suppose." 
 
 "Not at all," returned the priest, folding his hands 
 over the handle of his umbrella. " A much more 
 delicate matter. You suggested last night an im- 
 probable scheme for marrying Lucia." 
 
 " You had better say that I told you plainly what 
 I mean to do. If you have come to talk about that, 
 you had better talk to the workmen outside. They 
 may answer you. I will not ! " 
 
 Don Paolo was not to be so easily put off. He 
 waited a moment as though to give Marzio time to 
 change his mind, and then proceeded. 
 
 "There are three reasons why this marriage will 
 not take place," he said. " In the first place, it is 
 wrong — that is my point of view. In the second 
 place, it is impossible — and that is the view the law 
 
CHAP. VI MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 127 
 
 takes of it. Thirdly, it will not take place because 
 you ■will not attempt to push it. What do you say 
 of my reasons, Marzio ? " 
 
 " They are worthy of you," answered the artist. 
 " In the first place, I do not care a fig for what you 
 think is wrong, or right either. Secondly, I will take 
 the law into my own hands. Thirdly, I will bring it 
 about and finish it ■ in a fortnight ; and fourthly, you 
 may go to the devil ! "What do you think of my 
 reasons, Paolo ? They are better than yours, and 
 much more likely to prevail." 
 
 " My dear Marzio," returned the priest quietly, " you 
 may say anything you please, I believe, in these days 
 of liberty. But the law will not permit you to act 
 upon your words. If you can persuade your daughter 
 to marry Gasparo Carnesecchi of her own free will, 
 well and good. If you cannot, there is a statute, I 
 am quite sure, which forbids your dragging her up the 
 steps of the Capitol, and making her sign her name by 
 force or violence in the presence of the authorities. 
 You may take my word for it ; and so you had better 
 dismiss the matter from your mind at once, and think 
 no more about it." 
 
 " I remember that you told her so last night," 
 growled Marzio, growing pale with anger. 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " You — you — you priest ! " cried the chiseller, un- 
 
128 • JIARZIO'S CKL'CIFIX CHAP, vi- 
 
 able in his rage to find an epithet which he judged 
 more degrading. Don Paolo smiled. 
 
 " Yes, I am a priest," he answered calmly. 
 
 " Yes, you are a priest," yelled Marzio, " and what 
 is to become of paternal authority in a household 
 where such fellows as you are listening at the key- 
 holes ? * Is a man to have no more rights ? Are we 
 to be ruled by women and creatures in petticoats? 
 "Viper ! Poisoning my household, teaching my daughter 
 to disobey me, my wife to despise me, my paid work- 
 men to " 
 
 " Silence ! " cried Gianbattista in ringing tones, and 
 with the word he sprang to his feet and clapped hia 
 hand on Marzio's mouth. 
 
 The effect was sudden and unexpected. Marzio 
 was utterly taken by surprise. It was incredible to 
 him that any one should dare to forcibly prevent him 
 from indulging in the language he had used with 
 impunity for so many years. He leaned back pale 
 and astonished, and momentarily dumb with amaze- 
 ment. Gianbattista stood over him, his young 
 cheeks flushed with angef, and his broad fist 
 clenched. 
 
 " If you dare to talk in that way to Don Paolo, I 
 will kill you with my hands ! " lie said, his voice sink- 
 ing lower with concentrated determination. " I have 
 had enough of your foul talk. He is a better man 
 
CHAP. VI MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 129 
 
 than you, as I told you last night, and I repeat it 
 now — take care " 
 
 Marzio made a movement as though he would rise, 
 and at the same instant Gianbattista seized trie long, 
 fine-pointed punch, which served for the eyes of the 
 cherubs — a dangerous weapon in a determined hand. 
 
 Don Paolo had risen from his chair, and was trying 
 to push himself between the two. But Gianbattista 
 would not let him, 
 
 " For heaven's sake," cried the priest in great dis- 
 tress, " no violence, Tista — I will call the men " 
 
 " Never fear," answered the apprentice quietly ; " the 
 man is a coward." 
 
 " To me — you dare to say that to me ! " exclaimed 
 Marzio, drawing back at the same time. 
 
 " Yes — it is quite true. But do not suppose that I 
 think any the worse of you on that account, Sor Marzio." 
 
 With this taunt, delivered in a voice that expressed 
 the most profound contempt, Gianbattista went back 
 to his seat and took up his hammer as though nothing 
 had happened. Don Paolo drew a long breath of 
 relief. As for Marzio, Jus teeth chattered with rage. 
 His weakness had been betrayed at last, and by Gian- 
 battista. All his life lie had succeeded in concealing 
 the physical fear which his words belied. He had 
 cultivated the habit of offering to face danger, speak- 
 ing of it in a quiet way, as he had observed that brave 
 
130 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. VI 
 
 men did. He liad found it good policy to tell people 
 that he was not afraid of them, and his bearing had 
 hitherto saved him from physical violence. Now he 
 felt as though all his nerves had been drawn out of 
 his body. He had been terrified, and he knew that 
 he had shown it. Gianbattista's words stung in his 
 ears like the sting of wasps. 
 
 " You shall never enter this room again," he hissed 
 out between his teeth. The young man shrugged his 
 shoulders as though he did not care. Don Paolo sat 
 dovfc agaift and grasped his umbrella. 
 
 " Gianbattista," said the priest, " I am grateful to 
 you for your friendship, my boy. But it is very 
 wron" to be violent " 
 
 " It i^one of the seve'h deadly sins ! " cried Marzio, 
 finding his Voice at last, and by a strange accident 
 venting his feelings *n a sentence which might* have 
 been spoken by a confessor to a penitent. 
 
 Gianbattista could not help laughing, but he. shook 
 his head as though to explain that it was not his fault 
 if he was violent with such a man. 
 " " It is very wrong to threaten people, Tista," 
 repeated Don Paolo; '^and besides i^does not hurt 
 me, what Marzio says. Let us all be calm. Marzio, 
 let us discuss this matter reasonably. Tista, do not 
 be angry at anything that is said. There is nothing 
 t© be done but to look at the question quietly." 
 
chap.^vi MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 131 
 
 " Itisj|ery well for you to talk like that," grumbled 
 Marzio, pretending to busy himself over his model in 
 order to cover his agitation. 
 
 " It is of no use to talk in any other way," answered 
 the priest. " I return to the subject. I only want to 
 convince you that you will find it impossible to carry 
 out your determination by force. You have on^ to 
 ask the very man you have hit upon, the Avvocato 
 Carnesecchi, and he will tell you trii same thing. He 
 knows the law better than you or I. He will refuse 
 to be a party to such an attempt. Ask him, if you 
 do not believe me." 
 *,»*' Yes ; a jretty position you want to put me in, by 
 
 y$0 body of a dog ! To ask a man to marry my 
 daughter by force ! A fine opinion he would conceive 
 of my domestic authority ! Perhaps you* will take 
 
 upon yourself to go and tell him — won't you, dear 
 Paolo ? It would save me the trouble." 
 
 "I think that is your affair," answered Don Paolo, 
 
 taking him in earnest. "Nevertheless, if you wish 
 
 it " 
 
 " Oh, this is too much ! " cried Marzio, his angejf 
 
 rising again. " It is not enougflPthat you thwart me 
 
 at every turn, but you c«me here to mock me, to make 
 
 a figure of me ! Take care, Paolo, take care ! Y'ou 
 
 may go too far." 
 
 " I would not advise you to go too far, Sor Marzio," 
 
132 MAEZIt)'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. -VI 
 
 put in Gianbattista, turning half round on his 
 stool. 
 
 " Cannot I speak without being interrupted ? Go 
 on with your work, Tista, and let us talk this matter 
 ' out. I tell you, Paolo, that I do not want your 
 advice, and that I have bad far too much of your 
 interference. I will inquire into this matter, so far 
 as it concerns the law, and I will show you that I am 
 right, in spite of all your surmises and prophecies. A 
 man is master in his own house and must remain so, 
 whatever laws are made. There is no law which can 
 force a man to submit to the dictation of his brother 
 — even if his brother is a priest." — 
 
 Marzio spoke more calmly than he had done 
 hitherto, in spite of the sneer in the last sentence. 
 He had broken down, and he felt that Paolo and 
 Gianbattista were too much for him. He desired no 
 repetition of the scene which bad passed, and he 
 thought the best thing to be done was to temporise 
 for a while. 
 
 " I am glad you are willing to look into the matter," 
 answered Don Paolo. " I am quite sure you will 
 soon be convinced." 
 
 Marzio was silent, and it was evident that the in- 
 terview was at an end. Don Paolo was tolerably well 
 satisfied, for he had gained at least one point in 
 forcing his brother to examina the question. He 
 
chap, vr MARZIO-'S CRUCIFIX 133 
 
 remained a moment in Lis seat, reviewing the situa- 
 tion, and asking himself whether there was anything 
 more to be said. He wished indeed that he could 
 produce some deeper impression on the artist. It was' 
 not enough, from the moral point of view, that Marzio 
 should be made to see the impossibility of his scheme, 
 although it was as much as could be expected. The 
 good man wished with all his heart that Marzio could 
 be softened a little, that he might be made to consider 
 his daughter's feelings, to betray some sign of an affec- 
 tion which seemed wholly dead, to show some more 
 human side of his character. But the situation at 
 present forbade Don Paolo from making any further 
 effort. The presence of Gianbattista, who had sud- 
 denly constituted himself the priest's defender, was a 
 constraint. Alone with his brother, Marzio might 
 possibly have exhibited some sensibility, but while the 
 young man who had violently silenced him a few 
 moments earlier was looking on, the chiseller wovdd 
 continue to be angry, and would not forget the humilia- 
 tion he had suffered. There was nothing more to be 
 done at present, and Don Paolo prepared to take his 
 departure, gathering his cloak around him, and smooth- 
 ing the felt of his three-cornered hat while he held his 
 green umbrella under his arm. 
 
 "Are you going already, Don Paolo?" asked Gian- 
 battista, rising to open the door. 
 
134 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, vi 
 
 "Yes, I must go. Good-bye, Marzio. Bear me no 
 ill-will for pressing you to be cautious. Good-bye, 
 Tista." He pressed the young man's hand warmly, 
 as though to thank him for his courageous defence, 
 and then left the workshop. Marzio paid no attention 
 to his departure. When the door was closed, and as 
 Gianbattista was returning to his bench, the artist 
 dropped his modelling tools and faced his apprentice. 
 
 " You may go too," he said in a low tone, as though 
 he were choking. " I mean you may go for good. I 
 do not need you any longer." 
 
 He felt in his pocket for his purse, opened it, and 
 took out some small notes. 
 
 " I give you an hour to take your things from my 
 house," he continued. " There are your wages — you 
 shall not tell the piiest that I cheated you." 
 
 Gianbattista stood still in the middle of the room 
 while Marzio held out the money to him. A hot 
 flush rose to his young forehead, and he seemed on 
 the point of speaking, but the words did not pass his 
 lips. With a quick step he came forward, took the 
 notes from Marzio's hand, and crumpling them iu his 
 fingers, threw them in his face with all his might. 
 Then he turned on his heel, spat on the floor of the 
 room, and went out before Marzio could find words to 
 resent the fresh insult. 
 
 The door fell back, on the latch and Marzio was 
 
chap. VI MARZIO-'S CRUCIFIX 135 
 
 alone. He was very pale, and for a moment his 
 features worked angrily. Then a cruel smile passed 
 over his face. He stooped down, picked up the 
 crumpled notes, counted them, and replaced them in 
 his purse. The economical instinct never forsook him, 
 and he did the thing mechanically. Glancing at the 
 bench his eyes fell on the pointed punch which Gian- 
 battista had taken up in his anger. He felt it care- 
 fully, handled it, looked at it, smiled again and put it 
 into his pocket. 
 
 " It is not a bad one," he muttered. " How many 
 cherubs' eyes I have made with that thing ! " 
 
 He turned to the slate and examined the rough 
 model he had made in wax, flat still, and only indi- 
 cated by vigorous touches, the red material smeared on 
 the black surface all around it by his fingers. There 
 was force in the figure, even in its first state, and 
 there was a strange pathos in the bent head, the only 
 part as yet in high relief. But Marzio looked at it 
 angrily. He turned it to the light, closed his eyes a 
 moment, looked at it again, and then, with an inco- 
 herent oath, his long, discoloured hand descended on 
 the model, and, with a heavy pressure and one strong 
 push, flattened out what he had done, and smeared it 
 into a shapeless mass upon the dark stone. 
 
 " I shall never do it," he said in a low voice. " They 
 have destroyed my idea." 
 
136 "MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX cha*. vr 
 
 Tor some mimites lie rested his head in his hand in 
 deep thought. At last he rose and went to a corner 
 of the workshop in which stood a heavily ironed box. 
 Marzio fumbled in his pocket till he found a key, 
 bright from always being carried about with him, and 
 contrasting oddly with the rusty lock into which he 
 thrust it. It turned with difficulty in his nervous 
 fingers, and lie raised the heavy lid. The coffer was 
 full of packages wrapped in brown paper. He removed 
 one after another till he came to a wooden case which 
 filled the whole length and breadth of the safe. He 
 lifted it out carefully and laid it on the end of the 
 bench. The cover was fastened down by screws, and 
 he undid them one by one until it moved and came 
 off in his hands. The contents were wrapped carefully 
 in a fine towel, which had once been white, but which 
 had long grown yellow with age. Marzio unfolded 
 the covering with a delicate touch as thougli he feared 
 to hurt what was within. He took out a large silver 
 crucifix, raising it carefully, and taking care not to 
 touch the figure. He stood it upon the bench before 
 him, and sat down to examine it. 
 
 It was a work of rare beauty, which he had made 
 more than ten years before. With the strange reticent 
 instinct which artists sometimes feel about their finest 
 works, he had finished it in secret, working at night 
 alone, and when it was done he had put it away. It 
 
chap. VI MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 137 
 
 was his greatest feat, he had said to himself, and, as 
 from time to time he took it out and looked at it, he 
 gradually grew less and less inclined to show it to any 
 one, resolving to leave it in its case, until it should be 
 found after his death. It had seemed priceless to him, 
 and he would not sell it. With a fantastic eccentricity 
 of reasoning he regarded it as a sacred thing, to part 
 with which would be a desecration. So he kept it. 
 Then, taking it out again, it had seemed less good to 
 him, as his mind became occupied with other things, 
 and he had fancied he should do better yet. At last 
 he screwed it up in a wooden case and put it at the. 
 bottom of his strong box, resolving never to look at it 
 again. Many years had passed since he had laid eyes 
 upon it. 
 
 The idea which had come to him when Paolo had 
 communicated the order to him on the previous even- 
 ing, had seemed absolutely new. It had appeared to 
 him as a glorification of the work he had executed in 
 secret so long ago. Time, and the habit of dissatisfac- 
 tion had effaced from his mind the precise image of the 
 work of the past, and the emotions of the present had 
 seemed something new to him. He had drawn and 
 modelled during many hours, and yet he was utterly 
 disappointed with the new result. He felt the innate 
 consciousness of having done it before, and of having 
 done it better. 
 
138 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, vi 
 
 And now the wonderful masterpiece of his earlier 
 j'ears stood before him — the tall and massive ebony 
 cross, bearing the marvellous figure of the dead Saviour. 
 A ray of sunlight fell through the grated window upon 
 the dying head, illuminating the points of the thorns 
 in the crown, the falling locks of hair, the tortured 
 hands, and casting a shadow of death beneath the half- 
 closed eyes. 
 
 For several minutes Marzio sat motionless on his 
 stool, realising the whole strength and beauty of what 
 he had done ten years before. Then he wanted to get 
 a better view of it. It was not high enough above 
 him, for it was meant to stand upon an altar. He 
 could not see the face. He looked about for something 
 upon which to make it stand, but nothing was near. 
 He pushed away his stool, and turning the cross a 
 little, so that the sunlight should strike it at a better 
 angle, he kneeled down on the floor, his hands resting 
 on the edge of the bench, and he looked up at the 
 image of the dead Christ. 
 
CHAPTEK VII 
 
 When Don Paolo left the workshop, he immedi- 
 ately crossed over and entered the street door of 
 Marzio's house, intending to tell Maria Luisa and 
 Lucia the result of the interview. He had not got to 
 the top of the first flight of stairs when he heard 
 Gianhattista's step hehiud him, and turning he saw the 
 young man's angry face. 
 
 " What is the matter, Tista ? " asked the priest, stop- 
 ping on the steps and laying his hand on the iron 
 railing. 
 
 "I am discharged, turned out, insulted by that ani- 
 mal ! " answered the apprentice hotly. " He is like a 
 piece of wood ! You might as well talk to a wall ! 
 You had only just closed the door when he pulled out 
 his puree, counted my wages, and told me to take my 
 things from his house in an hour. -I threw the money 
 in his face — the beast !" 
 
 " Hush, Tista," said Don Paolo. " Do not be angry 
 — we will arrange it all before night. He cannot do 
 without you, and after all it is my fault. Calm 
 
140 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, vn 
 
 yourself, Tista, my boy — we will soon set that 
 straight." 
 
 " Yes — in an hour I will have left the house. Then 
 it will be straight enough, as you call it. Oh ! I would 
 like to strangle him ! Dear Don Faolo, nobody but 
 you can arrange this affair " 
 
 '' Hush, hush, Tista. I cannot hear you talk in this 
 way. Come, we will go back to Marzio. He will 
 listen to reason " 
 
 " Do you know what he said to me not a quarter of 
 an hour before you came in ? " asked Gianbattista 
 quickly, laying his hand on the priest's arm. "He 
 said I might have Lucia and welcome if I would kill 
 you ! Do you understand ? I wish you could have 
 seen the look in his eyes ! " 
 
 "Xo, no, my boy — he was angry. He did not 
 mean it." 
 
 " Mean it ! Bacchus ! He would kill you himself 
 if he were not such a dastardly coward ! " 
 
 Don Paolo shook his head with an incredulous 
 smile, and looked kindly into the young man's eyes. 
 
 " You have all lost your heads over this unfortunate 
 affair, Tista. You are all talking of killing each other 
 and yourselves as though it were as simple as ' good- 
 morning.' It is very wrong to talk of such things, 
 and besides, you know, it is not really worth- 
 while " 
 
CHAP. VII MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 141 
 
 " It seems simple enough to me," answered the 
 young man, frowning and clenching his hand. 
 
 " Come with me," urged the other, making as though 
 he would descend the steps. " Come back to the work- 
 shop, and we will talk it all over." 
 
 " Wait a minute, Don Paolo. There is one thine — 
 one favour I want to ask of you." Gianbattista 
 lowered his voice. " You can do it for us — I am sure 
 you will. I will call Lucia, and we will go with you " 
 
 " Where ? " asked the priest, not understanding the 
 look of the young man. 
 
 " To church, of course. You can marry us in ten 
 minutes, and the thing will be all over. Then we can 
 laugh at Sor Marzio." 
 
 Don Paolo smiled. 
 
 " My dear boy," he answered, " those things are not 
 done in a moment like roasting chestnuts. There are 
 banns to be published. There is a civil marriage at 
 the Capitol " 
 
 " I should be quite satisfied with your benediction — 
 a Pater Hosier, an Oremus properly said — eh ? Would 
 it not be all right ? " 
 
 " Eeally, Tista ! " exclaimed the good man, holding 
 up his hands in horror. " I had no idea that your 
 religious education had been so neglected ! My dear 
 child, marriage is a very solemn thing." 
 
 " By Diana ! I should think so ! But that need not 
 
142 MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. VII 
 
 make it such a long ceremony. A man dies in a 
 moment — paff 7 — the light is out ! — you are dead. It 
 is very solemn. The same thing for marriage. The 
 priest looks at you, says Oremus — paff! You are 
 married, and it cannot be undone ! I know it is very 
 serious, but it is only the affair of a moment." 
 
 Don Paolo did not know whether to laugh or to 
 look grave at this exposition of Gianbattista's views 
 of death and matrimony. He put it down to the boy's 
 excitement. 
 
 " There is another reason, Tista. The law does not 
 allow a girl of seventeen to be married without her 
 father's consent." 
 
 " The law again ! " exclaimed Gianbattista in disgust. 
 "I thought the law protected Lucia from her father. 
 You said so last night, and you repeated it this morning." 
 
 " Certainly, my boy. But the law also protects 
 parents against any rashness their children may medi- 
 tate. It would be no marriage if Lucia had not 
 Marzio's consent." 
 
 " I wish there were no laws," grumbled the young 
 man. "How do you come to know so much about 
 marriage, Don Paolo ? " 
 
 " It is my profession. Come along ; we will talk to 
 Marzio." 
 
 " What can we say to him ? You do not suppose I 
 will go and beg to be taken back ? " 
 
chap. Vll MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 143 
 
 " You must be forgiving " 
 
 " I believe in forgiveness when the other side 
 begins," said Gianbattista. 
 
 " Perhaps Marzio will forgive too," argued the priest. 
 
 " He has nothing to forgive," answered the young 
 man. The reasoning seemed to him beyond refutation. 
 
 " But if he says he has no objection, if he begs you 
 to come back, I think you might make some advance 
 on your side, Tista. Besides, you were very rough with 
 him this morning." 
 
 " He turned me out like a dog — after all these 
 years," said Gianbattista. " I will go back and work 
 for him on one condition. He must give me Lucia at 
 once." 
 
 " I am afraid that as a basis of negotiations that 
 plan leaves much to be desired," replied Don Paolo, in a 
 meditative tone. " Of course, we are all determined that 
 you shall marry her in the end ; but unless Providence 
 is pleased to change Marzio's state of mind, you may 
 have to wait until she is of age. He will never con- 
 sent at present." 
 
 " In that case I had better go and take my things 
 away from his house," returned the apprentice. "And 
 say good-bye to Lucia— for a day or two," he added in 
 a low voice. 
 
 " Of course, if you will not agree to be conciliatory 
 it is of no use for you to come with me," said Don 
 
144 MVItZ'O's CRUCIFIX ,CHAP. vn 
 
 Paolo rather sadly. " Dear me ! Here comes Maria 
 Luisa with Suntarella ! " 
 
 " Ah, dear Paolo, dear Paolo ! " cried the stout lady, 
 puffing up the stairs with the old woman close behind 
 her. "How good you are! And what did he say? 
 We asked if you had gone at the workshop, and they 
 said you had, so Lucia went in to ask her father 
 whether he would have the chickens boiled or roasted. 
 Well, well, tell me all about it. These stairs ! Sun- 
 tarella, run up and open the door while I get my 
 breath ! Dear Paolo, you are an angel of goodness ! " 
 
 " Softly, Maria Luisa," answered the priest. " There 
 is good and bad. He has admitted that he will have 
 to consider the matter because he cannot make Lucia 
 marry without her consent. But on the other hand — 
 
 poor Tista " he looked at the -young man and 
 
 hesitated. 
 
 "He has turned me out," said Gianbattista. "He 
 has given me an hour to leave his house. I believe a 
 good part of the hour has passed already " 
 
 "And Tista says he will not go back at any price," 
 put in Don Paolo. The Signora Pandolfi gasped for 
 breath. 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! I shall faint ! " she sobbed, pressing the 
 handle of her parasol against her breast, with both 
 hands. " Oh, what shall we do ? We are lost ! 
 Paolo, your arm — I shall die ! " 
 
chap, vii maezio's CRueinx 145 
 
 " Courage, courage, Maria Luisa," said the priest 
 kindly. " We will find a remedy. For the present 
 Tista can come to my house. There is the little room 
 where the man-servant sleeps, who is gone to see his 
 sick wife in the country. The Cardinal will not 
 mind." 
 
 " But you are not going like this ? " cried the stout 
 lady, grasping Gianbattista's arm and looking into his 
 face with an expression of forlorn bewilderment. " You 
 cannot go to-day — it is impossible, Tista — your shirts 
 are not even ironed ! Oh dear ! oh dear ! And I had 
 anticipated a feast because I was sure that Marzio 
 would see reason before mid-day, and there are chickens 
 for dinner — with rice, Tista, just as you like them — 
 oh, you cannot go, Tista, I cannot let you go ! " 
 
 " Courage, Maria Luisa," exhorted Don Paolo. " It 
 is not a question of chickens." 
 
 '' Dear Sora Luisa, you are too good," said Gianbat- 
 tista. " Let us go upstairs first, to begin with — you 
 will catch cold here on the steps. Come, come, 
 courage, Sora Luisa ! " 
 
 He took the good woman's arm and led her up- 
 wards. But Don Taolo stayed behind. He believed 
 it to be his duty to return to the workshop, and to 
 try and undo the harm Gianbattista had done himself 
 by the part he had played in the proceedings of the 
 morning. The Signora Pandolfi suffered herself to be 
 
 L 
 
146 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. VII 
 
 led upstairs, panting and sobbing as she went, and 
 protesting still that Gianbattista could not possibly be 
 allowed to leave the house. 
 
 "When Don Paolo had parted from the two women an 
 hour earlier, they had not gone home as he had supposed, 
 but, chancing to meet old Assunta near the house, the 
 three had gone together to make certain necessary 
 purchases. On their return they had inquired for 
 Paolo at the workshop, as Maria Luisa had explained, 
 and Lucia had entered in the confident expectation of 
 finding that the position of things had mended con- 
 siderably since the early morning. Moreover, since 
 the announcement of the previous evening, the young 
 girl had not seen her father alone. She wanted to 
 talk to him on her own account, in order to sound the 
 depth of his determination. She was not afraid of 
 him. The fact that for a long time he had regarded 
 favourably the project of her marriage with Gianbat- 
 tista had given her a confidence which was not to be 
 destroyed in a moment, even by Marzio's strange 
 conduct. She passed through the outer rooms, nodding 
 to the workmen, who touched their caps to the master's 
 daughter. A little passage separated the large work- 
 shop from the inner studio. The door at the end 
 was not quite closed. Lucia went up to it, and looked 
 through the opening to see whether Gianbattista were 
 with her father. The sight she saw was so surprising 
 
CHAP. VII MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 147 
 
 that she leaned against the door-post for support. 
 She could not believe her eyes. 
 
 There was her father in his woollen blouse, kneeling, 
 on the brick floor of the room, before a crucifix, his 
 back turned towards her, his hands raised, and, as it 
 seemed from the position of the arms, folded in prayer. 
 The sunlight fell upon the silver figure, and upon the 
 dark tangled hair of the artist who remained motionless 
 as though absorbed in devotion, while his daughter 
 watched him through the half-open door. The scene 
 was one which would have struck any one ; the 
 impression it made on Lucia was altogether extra- 
 ordinary. She easily fancied that Marzio, after his 
 interview with Don Paolo, had felt a great and sudden 
 revulsion of sentiment. She knew that the priest had 
 not left the studio many minutes before, and she 
 saw her father apparently praying before a crucifix. 
 A wonderful conversion had been effected, and the 
 result was there manifest to the girl's eyes. 
 
 She held her breath and remained at the door, 
 determined not to move until Marzio should have risen 
 from his knees. To interrupt him at such a moment 
 would have been almost a sacrilege ; it might produce 
 the most fatal results ; it would be an intrusion upon 
 the privacy of a repentant man. She stood watching 
 and waiting to see what would happen. 
 
 Presently Marzio moved. Lucia thought he was 
 
148 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, vii 
 
 going to rise from his knees, but she -was surprised to 
 see that he only changed the position of the crucifix 
 with one hand. He approached his head so near the 
 lower part of it that Lucia fancied he was in the act 
 of pressing his lips upon the crossed feet of the silver 
 Christ. Then he drew back a little, turned his head 
 to one side, and touched the figure with his right hand. 
 It was evident, now, that he was no longer praying, 
 but that something about the workmanship had 
 attracted his attention. 
 
 How natural, the girl said to herself, that this man, 
 even in such a supreme moment, should not forget his 
 art — that, even in prayer, his eyes should mechanically 
 detect an error of the chisel, a flaw in the metal, or 
 some such detail familiar to his daily life. She did 
 not think the worse of him for it. He was an artist ! 
 The habit of his whole existence could not cease to 
 influence him — he could as soon have ceased to 
 breathe. Lucia watched him and felt something like 
 love for her father. Her sympathy was with him in 
 both actions ; in his silent prayer, in the inner privacy 
 of his working-room, as well as in the inherent love of 
 his art, from which he could not escape even when he 
 was doing something contrary to the whole tenor of 
 his life. Lucia thought how Don Paolo's face would 
 light up when she should tell him of what she had 
 seen. Then she wondered, with a delicate sense of 
 
CHAP. VII MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 140 
 
 respect for her father's secret feelings, whether she 
 would have the right to tell any one what she had 
 accidentally seen through the half-closed door of the 
 studio. 
 
 Marzio moved again, and this time he rose to his 
 feet and remained standing, so that the crucifix was 
 completely hidden from her view. She knocked at 
 the door. Her father turned suddenly round, and 
 faced the entrance, still hiding the crucifix hy his figure. 
 
 "Who is it ?" he asked in a tone that sounded as 
 though he were startled. 
 
 " Lucia," answered the girl timidly. " May I come 
 in, papa ? " 
 
 "Wait a minute," he answered. She drew back, 
 and, still watching him, saw that he laid the cross 
 down upon the table, and covered it with a towel — the 
 same one in which it had been wrapped. 
 
 " Come in," he called out. " What is the matter ?" 
 
 " I only came for a moment, papa," answered Lucia, 
 entering the room and glancing about her as she came 
 forward. " Mamma sent me in to ask you about the 
 chickens — there are chickens for dinner — she wanted 
 to know whether you would like them roasted or 
 boiled with rice." 
 
 " Roasted," replied Marzio, taking up a chisel and 
 pretending to be busy. " It is Gianbattista who likes 
 them boiled." 
 
150 MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX cnAP. VII 
 
 " Thank you, I will go home and tell her. Papa 
 " the girl hesitated. 
 
 " What is the matter 1" 
 
 " Papa, you are not angry any more as you were 
 last night?" 
 
 " Angry ? No. What makes you ask such a 
 question ? I was not angry last night, and I am not 
 angry now. Who put the idea into your head ?" 
 
 " I am so glad," answered Lucia. " Not with me, 
 not with Tista ? I am so glad ! Where is Tista, 
 papa?" 
 
 " I have not the slightest idea. You will probably 
 not see Tista any more, nor Gianbattista, nor his 
 excellency the Signorino Bordogni." 
 
 Lucia turned suddenly pale, and rested her hand 
 upon the old straw chair on which Don Paolo had 
 sat during his visit. 
 
 " What is this ? What do you tell me ? Not see 
 Tista ?" she asked quickly. 
 
 " Gianbattista had the bad taste to attack me this 
 morning — here — in my own studio," said Marzio, 
 turning round and facing his daughter. " He put his 
 hands upon my face, do you understand ? He would 
 have stabbed me with a chisel if Paolo had not 
 interfered. Do you understand that ? Out of defer- 
 ence for your affections I did not kill him, as I might 
 have done. I dismissed him from my service, and gave 
 
chap, vil MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 151 
 
 him an hour to take his effects out of my house. Is 
 that clear ? I offered him his money. He threw it 
 in my face and spat at me as he went out. Is that 
 enough ? If I find him at home when I come to 
 dinner I will have him turned out by the police. You 
 see, you are not likely to set eyes on him for a day or 
 two. You may go home and tell your mother the 
 news, if she has not heard it already. It will be sauce 
 for her chickens." 
 
 Lucia leaned upon the chair during this speech, her 
 black eyes growing wider and wider, and her face 
 turning whiter at every word. To her it seemed, in 
 this first moment, like a hopeless separation from the 
 man she loved. With a sudden movement she sprang 
 forward, and fell on her knees at Marzio's feet. 
 
 " Oh, my father, I beseech you, in the name of 
 heaven," she cried wildly. 
 
 " It is not of the slightest use," answered Marzio, 
 drawing back. Lucia knelt for one moment before 
 him, with upturned face, an expression of imploring 
 despair on her features. Then she sank down in a 
 heap upon the floor against the three-legged stool, 
 which tottered, lost its balance under her weight, and 
 fell over upon the bricks with a loud crash. The poor 
 girl had fainted away. 
 
 Marzio was startled by the sight and the sound, and 
 then, seeing what had happened, he was very much 
 
152 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. VII 
 
 frightened. He knelt down beside his daughter's 
 prostrate body and bent over her face. He raised 
 her up in his long, nervous arms, and lifted her to 
 the old chair till she sat upon it, and he supported 
 her head and body, kneeling on the floor beside her. 
 A sharp pain shot through his heart, the faint indica- 
 tion of a love not wholly extinguished. 
 
 " Lucia, dear Lucia !" he said, in a voice so tender 
 that it sounded strangely in his own ears. But the 
 girl gave no sign. Her head would have fallen for- 
 ward if he had not supported it with his hands. 
 
 " My daughter ! Little Lucia ! You are not dead 
 — tell me you are not dead !" he cried. In his fright 
 and sudden affection he pressed his lips to her face, 
 kissing her again and again. " I did not mean to hurt 
 you, darling child," he repeated, as though she coidd 
 hear him speak. 
 
 At last her eyes opened. A shiver ran through her 
 body and she raised her head. She was very pale as 
 she leaned back in the chair. Marzio took her hands 
 and rubbed them between his dark fingers, still looking 
 into her eyes. 
 
 " Ah !" she gasped, " I thought I was dead." Then, 
 as Marzio seemed about to speak, she added faintly : 
 " Don't say it again \" 
 
 " Lucia — dear Lucia ! I knew you were not dead 
 I knew you would come back to me," he said, still in 
 
chap. VII MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 153 
 
 very tender tones. "Forgive me, child — I did not 
 mean to hurt you." 
 
 "No? Oh, papa! Then why did you say it?" 
 she cried, suddenly bursting into tears and weeping 
 upon his shoulder. " Tell me it is not true — tell me 
 so!" she sobbed. 
 
 Marzio was almost as much disconcerted by Lucia's 
 return to consciousness as he had been by her fainting 
 away. His nature had unbent, momentarily, under 
 the influence of his strong fear for his daughter's life. 
 Now that she had recovered so quickly, he remembered 
 Gianbattista's violence and scornful words, and he 
 seemed to feel the young man's strong hand upon 
 his mouth, stifling his speech. He hesitated, rose to 
 his feet, and began to pace the floor. Lucia watched 
 him with intense anxiety. There was a conflict in his 
 miud between the resentment which was not half an 
 hour old, and the love for his child, which had been so 
 quickly roused during the last five minutes. 
 
 " Well — - Lucia, my dear — I do not know " he 
 
 stopped short in his walk and looked at her. 
 She leaned forward as though to catch his 
 words. 
 
 " Do you think you could not— that you would be 
 so very unhappy, I mean, if he lived out of the house 
 — I mean to say, if he had lodgings, somewhere, and 
 came back to work ?" 
 
154 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. VII 
 
 " Oh, papa — I should faint away again — and I should 
 die. I am quite sure of it." 
 
 Marzio looked anxiously at her, as though he ex- 
 pected to see her fall to the ground a second time. 
 It went against the grain of his nature to take Gian- 
 battista back, although he had discharged him hastily 
 in the anger of the moment. He turned away and 
 glanced at the bench. There were the young man's 
 tools, the hammer as he had left it, the piece of work 
 on the leathern pad. The old impulse of foresight for 
 the future acted in Marzio's mind. He could never 
 find such another workman. In the uncertainty of 
 the moment, as often happens, details rose to Ins re- 
 membrance and produced their effect. He recollected 
 the particular way in which Gianbattista used to hold 
 the blunt chisel in first tracing over the drawing on 
 a silver plate. He had never seen any one do it in 
 the same way. 
 
 " Well, Lucia — don't faint away. If you can make 
 him stay, I will take him back. But I am afraid you 
 will have hard work. He will make difficulties. He 
 threw the money in my face, Lucia — in your father's 
 face, girl ! Think of that. Well, well, do what you 
 like. He is a good workman. Go away, child, 
 and leave me to myself. What will you say to 
 him ?" 
 
 Lucia threw her arms round her father's neck and 
 
chap, vn MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 155 
 
 kissed him in her sudden joy. Then she stood a 
 moment in thought. 
 
 " Give me his money," she said. " If he will take 
 the money he will come back." 
 
 Marzio hesitated, slowly drew out his purse, and 
 began to take out the notes. 
 
 " Well — if you will have it so," he grumbled. "After 
 all, as he threw it away, I do not see that he has much 
 right to it. There it is. If he says anything about 
 that ten-franc note being torn, tell him he tore it 
 himself. Go home, Lucia, and manage things as you 
 can." 
 
 Lucia put the money in her glove, and busied her- 
 self for a moment in brushing the dust from her clothes. 
 Mechanically, her father helped her. 
 
 " You are quite sure you did not hurt yourself ?" he 
 asked. The whole occurrence seemed indistinct, as 
 though some one had told something which he had 
 not understood — as we sometimes listen to a person 
 reading aloud, and, missing by inattention the verb of 
 the sentence, remain confused, and ask ourselves what 
 the words mean. 
 
 " No — not at all. It is nothing," answered Lucia, 
 and in a moment she was at the door. 
 
 Opening it to go out, she saw the tall figure of Lon 
 Paolo at the other end of the passage coining rapidly 
 towards her. She raised her finger to her lips and 
 
156 MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, vn 
 
 nodded, as though to explain that everything was 
 settled, and that the priest should not speak to Marzio. 
 She, of course, did not know that he had been talking 
 with Gianbattista and her mother, nor that he knew 
 anything about the apprentice's dismissal. She only 
 feared fresh trouble, now that the prospect looked so 
 much clearer, in case Don Paolo should again attack 
 her father upon the subject of the marriage. But her 
 uncle came forward and made as though he would 
 enter the workshop. 
 
 " It is all settled," she said quietly. Don Paolo 
 looked at her in astonishment. At that moment 
 Marzio caught sight of him over the girl's shoulder, in 
 the dusky entrance. 
 
 " Come in, Paolo," he called out. " I have 
 something to show you. Go home, Lucia, my 
 child." 
 
 Not knowing what to expect, and marvelling at the 
 softened tone of his brother's voice, Dou Paolo entered 
 the room, waited till Lucia was out of the passage, and 
 then closed the door behind him. He stood in the 
 middle of the floor, grasping his umbrella in his hand 
 and wondering upon what new phase the business was 
 entering. 
 
 " I have something to show you," Marzio repeated, 
 as though to check any question which the priest 
 might be going to put to him. " You asked me for a 
 
CHAP. Vir MARZIO'S CKUCIFIX 157' 
 
 crucifix last night. I have one here. "Will it do ? 
 Look at it." 
 
 While speaking, Marzio had uncovered the cross 
 and lifted it up, so that it stood on the bench where 
 he had at first placed it to examine it himself. Then 
 he stepped Lack and made way for Don Paolo. The 
 priest stood for a moment speechless before the master- 
 piece, erect, his hands folded before him. Then, as 
 though recollecting himself, he took off his hat, which 
 he had forgotten to remove on entering the work- 
 shop. 
 
 "What a miracle !" he exclaimed, in a low voice. 
 
 Marzio stood a little behind him, his hands hi the 
 pockets of his woollen blouse. A long silence followed. 
 Don Paolo could not find words to express his admira- 
 tion, and his wonder was mixed with a profound feel-, 
 ing of devotion. The amazing reality of the figure, 
 clothed at the same time in a sort of divine glory, 
 impressed itself upon him as he gazed, and roused that 
 mystical train of religious contemplation which is both 
 familiar and dear to devout persons. He lost himself 
 in his thoughts, and his refined features showed as in 
 a mirror the current of his meditation. The agony of 
 the Saviour of mankind was renewed before him, cul- 
 minating in the sacrifice upon the cross. Involuntarily 
 Paolo bent his head and repeated in low tones the 
 words of the Creed, " Qui propter nos homines et propter 
 
158 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX Clip, vil 
 
 nostrum salutem descendit de coelis," and then, " Cruci- 
 fixvs etiam pro nobis." 
 
 Marzio stood looking on, his hands in his pockets. 
 His fingers grasped the long sharp punch he had taken 
 from the table after Gianbattista's departure. His 
 eyes fixed themselves upon the smooth tonsure at the 
 back of Paolo's head, and slowly his right hand issued 
 from his pocket with the sharp instrument firmly 
 clenched in it. He raised it to the level of his head, 
 just above that smooth shaven circle in the dark hair. 
 His eyes dilated and his mouth worked nervously as 
 the pale lips stretched themselves across the yellow teeth. 
 
 Don Paolo moved, and turned to speak to his brother 
 concerning the work of art. Seeing Marzio's attitude, 
 he started with a short cry and stretched out his arm 
 as though to parry a blow. 
 
 " Marzio !" 
 
 The artist had quickly brought his hand to his 
 forehead, and the ghastly affectation of a smile wreathed 
 about his white lips. His voice was thick. 
 
 "I was only .shading my eyes from the sun. 
 Don't you see how it dazzles me, reflected from the 
 silver ? What did you imagine, Paolo ? You look 
 frightened." 
 
 " Oh, nothing," answered the priest bravely. "Per- 
 haps I am a little nervous to-day.'' 
 
 " Bacchus ! It looks like it," said Marzio, with an 
 
chap. VII MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 159 
 
 attempt to laugh. Then he tossed the tool upon tlie 
 table among the rest with an impatient gesture. 
 " What do you think of the crucifix ? " 
 
 " It is very wonderful," said Paolo, controlling 
 himself by an effort. " "When did you make it, 
 Marzio ? You have not had time " 
 
 " I made, it years ago," answered the chiseller, turn- 
 ing his face away to hide his pallor. " I made it for 
 myself. I never meant to show it, but I believe I 
 cannot do anything better. Will it do for your car- 
 dinal ? Look at the work. It is as fine as anything 
 of the kind in the world, though I say it. Yes — it is 
 cast. Of coutsb, you do not understand the art, Paolo, 
 but I will explain it all to you in a few minutes " 
 
 Marzio talked very fast, almost incoherently, and 
 he was evidently struggling with an emotion. Paolo, 
 standing back a little from the bench, nodded his head 
 from time to time. 
 
 " It is all very simple," continued the artist, as 
 though he dared not pause for breath. "You see 
 one sometimes makes little figures of real . repouss6, 
 half and half, done in cement and then soldered to- 
 gether, so that they look like one piece, but it is 
 impossible to do them well unless you have dies to 
 press the plate into the first shape — and the die 
 always makes the same figure, though you can vary 
 the face and twist the arms and legs about. Cheap 
 
160 MAEZIO'S CKUCIFIX chap, vir 
 
 silver crucifixes and angels and those things are all 
 made in that way, and with care a great deal can be 
 done, of course, to give them an artistic look." 
 
 " Of course," assented Don Paolo, in a low voice. 
 He thought he understood the cause of his brother's 
 eloquence. 
 
 " Yes, of course," continued Marzio, as rapidly as 
 before. " But to make a really good thing like this, 
 is a different matter. A very different matter. Here 
 you must model your figure in wax, and make moulds 
 of the parts of it, and chisel each part separately, 
 copying the model. And then you must join all the 
 parts together with silver-soldering, and go over the 
 lines carefully. It needs the most delicate handling, 
 for although the casting is very heavy it is not like 
 working on a chalice that is filled with cement and all 
 arranged for you, that can be put in the fire, melted 
 out, softened, cooled, and worked over as often as you 
 please. There is no putting in the fire here — -not 
 more than once after you have joined the pieces. Do 
 you understand me ? Why do you look at me in that 
 way, Paolo ? You look as though you did not follow me." 
 
 " On the contrary," said the priest, " I think I un- 
 derstand it very well — as well as an outsider can 
 understand such a process. No — I merely look at 
 the finished work. It is superb, Marzio — magnificent! 
 I have never seen anything like it." 
 
chai>. vil MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 161 
 
 - "Well, you may have it to-night," said Marzio, 
 turning away, and walking about the room. " I will 
 touch it over. I can improve it a little. I have 
 learned something in ten years. I will work all to- 
 day, and I will bring it home this evening to show 
 Maria Luisa. Then you may take it away." 
 
 " And the price ? I must be able to tell the 
 Cardinal." 
 
 " Oh, never mind the price. I will be content to 
 take whatever he gives me, since it is goiDg. No 
 price would represent the labour. Indeed, Paolo, if it 
 were any one but you, I would not let it go. Nothing 
 but my affection for you would make me give it to 
 you. It is the gem of my studio. Ah, how I worked 
 at it ten years ago ! " 
 
 " Thank you. I think I understand," answered the 
 priest. " I am very much obliged to you, Marzio, and 
 I assure you it will be appreciated. I must be going. 
 Thank you for showing it to me. I will come and get 
 it to-night." 
 
 "Well, good-bye, Paolo," said Marzio. "Here is 
 your umbrella." 
 
 As Don Paolo turned away to leave the room, the 
 artist looked curiously at the tonsure on his head, and 
 his eyes followed it until Taolo had covered it with his 
 hat. Then he closed the door and went back to the 
 
 bench. 
 
 M 
 
CHAPTEE VIII 
 
 Lucia hastened homewards with the good news she 
 bore. Her young nature was elastic, and, in the 
 sudden happiness of having secured Gianbattista's 
 recall, she quickly recovered from the shock she had 
 received. She did not reflect very much, for she had 
 not the time. It had all happened so quickly that 
 her senses were confused, and she only knew that the 
 man she loved must be in despair, and that the sooner 
 she reached him the sooner she would be able to 
 relieve him from what he must be suffering. Hci 
 breath came fast as she reached the top of the 
 stairs, and she panted as she rang the bell of the lodg- 
 ing. Apparently she had rung so loud in her excite- 
 ment as to rouse the suspicions of old Assunta, who 
 cautiously peered through the little square that opened 
 behind a grating in the door, before she raised the 
 latch. On seeing Lucia she began to laugh, and opened 
 quickly. 
 
 " So loud !" chuckled the old thing. " I thought it 
 was the police or Sor Marzio in a rage." 
 
chap. Tin MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 163 
 
 Lucia did not heed her, but ran quickly on to the 
 sitting-room, where the Signora Pandolfi was alone, 
 seated on her straight chair and holding her bonnet in 
 her hand, the bonnet with the purple glass grapes ; she 
 was the picture of despair. Lucia made haste to com- 
 fort her. 
 
 " Do not cry, mamma," she said quickly. " I have 
 arranged it all. I have seen papa. I have brought 
 Tista's money. Papa wants him to stay after all. 
 Yes — I know you cannot guess how it all happened. 
 I went in to ask about the chickens, and then I asked 
 about Tista, and he told me that I should not see him 
 any more, and then — then I felt this passion — 
 here in the chest, and everything went round and 
 round and round like a whirligig at the Termini, and I 
 fell right down, mamma, down upon the bricks — I 
 know, my frock is all dusty still, here, look, and here, 
 but what does it matter ? Patience ! I fell down like 
 a sack of flour — pata tun/ate ! " 
 
 "T-t-t-t!" exclaimed the Signora Pandolfi, holding 
 up her hands and drawing in her breath as she clacked 
 her tongue against the roof of her mouth. " T-t-t-t ! 
 What a pity ! " 
 
 " And when I came to my senses — I had fainted, 
 you understand — I was sitting on the old straw chair 
 and papa was holding my hands in his and calling me 
 his angel ! Capperi ! But it was worth while. You 
 
164 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX Chap, vm 
 
 can imagine the situation when lie called me an angel ! 
 It is the first time I have ever fainted, mamma — you. 
 have no idea — it was so curious ! " 
 
 " Ah, my dear, it must have softened his heart ! " 
 cried Maria Luisa. " If I could only faint away like 
 that once in a while ! "Who knows ? He might he 
 converted. But what would you have ? " The sig- 
 nora glanced down sadly at her figure, which certainly 
 suggested no such weakness as she seemed to desire. 
 '/ Well, Lucia," she continued, " and then ? " 
 
 " Yes, I talked to him, I implored him, I told him 
 I should prohahly faint again, and, indeed, I felt like 
 it. So he said I might have my way, and he told me 
 to come home and tell Tista at once. Where is 
 Tista ? " 
 
 " Eh ! He is in his room, packing up his things. I 
 will go and call him. Oh dear ! What a wonderful 
 day this is, my child ! To think that it is not yet 
 eleven o'clock, and all that has happened ! It is 
 enough to make a woman crazy, fit to send to Santo 
 Spirito. First you are to he married, and then you 
 are not to be married ! Then Gianbattista is sent 
 away — after all these years, and. such a good boy! 
 And then he is taken back ! And then — but the 
 chickens, Lucia, you forgot to ask about the chickens 
 
 " Not a bit of it," answered the young girl. " I 
 
CHAP. VIII MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 165 
 
 asked first, before he told me. Afterwards, I don't 
 know — I should not have had the strength to speak 
 of chickens. He said roasted, mamma. Poor Tista T 
 He likes them with rice. Well, one cannot have 
 everything in this world." 
 
 The Signora Pandolfi had reached the door, and 
 called out at the top of her voice to the young man. 
 
 " Tista ! Tista ! " She could have been heard in 
 the street. 
 
 " Eh, Sora Luisa ! We are not in the Piazza 
 Navona," said Gianbattista, appearing at the door of 
 his little room. "What has happened ?" 
 
 " Go and talk to Lucia," answered the good lady, 
 hurrying off in search of Assunta to tell her the de- 
 cision concerning the dinner. 
 
 Gianbattista entered the sitting-room, and, from 
 the young girl's radiant expression, he guessed that 
 some favourable change had taken place in his posi- 
 tion, or in the positions of them both. Lucia began 
 to tell him what had passed, and gave much the same 
 account as she had given to her mother, though some 
 of the intonations were softer, and accompanied by 
 looks which told her happiness. When she had ex- 
 plained the situation she paused for an answer. Gian- 
 battista stood beside her and held her hand, but he 
 looked out of the window, as though uncertain what 
 to say. 
 
166 MARZIO'S CKUCIFIX chav. vnr 
 
 " Here is tlie money," said Lucia. " You will take 
 it, won't you ? Then it will be all settled. What is 
 the matter, Tista ? Are you not glad ? " 
 
 "I do Bot trnst Mm," answered the young man. 
 " It is not like liim to change his mind like that, all 
 in a minute. He means some mischief." 
 
 ' What can he do ? " 
 
 " I do not know. I feel as if some evil were com- 
 ing. Patience ! Who knows ? You are an angel, 
 Lucia, darling." 
 
 " Everybody is telling mc so to-day," answered the 
 young girl. " Papa, you " 
 
 " Of course. It is quite true, my heart, and so 
 every one repeats it. What do you think ? Will he 
 come home to dinner ? It is only eleven o'clock — ■ 
 perhaps I ought to go back and work at the ewer. 
 Somehow I do not want to see him just now " 
 
 " Stay with me, Tista. Besides, you were packing 
 up your belongings to go away. You have a right to 
 take an hour to unpack them. Tell me, what is this 
 idea you have that papa is not iu earnest ? I want 
 to understand it. He was quite in earnest just now 
 — -so good, so good, like sugar ! Is it because you are 
 still angry with him, that you do not want to see 
 him?" 
 
 " No — why should I still be angry ? He has made 
 reparation. After all, I took a certain liberty with him." 
 
chap, vm MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 167 
 
 " That is all the more reason. If he is willing to 
 forget it— bat I could tell you something, Tista, some- 
 thing that would persuade you." 
 
 " What is it, my treasure ? " asked Gianbattista 
 with a smile, bending down, to look into her eyes. 
 
 " Oh, something very wonderful, something of which 
 you would never dream. I could scarcely believe my 
 eyes. Imagine, when I went to find him just now, 
 the door was open. I looked through before I went 
 in, to see if you were there. Do you know what papa 
 was doing ? He was kneeling on the floor before a 
 beautiful crucifix, such a beautiful one. I think be 
 was saying prayers, but I could not see his face. He 
 stayed a long time, and then when I knocked he 
 covered it up, was not that strange ? That is the 
 reason why I persuaded him so easily to -change his 
 mind." 
 
 Gianbattista smiled incredulously. He had often 
 seen Marzio kneel on the floor to get a different view 
 of a large piece of work. 
 
 " He was only looking at the work," he answered. 
 " I have seen him do it very often. He would laugh 
 if he could hear you, Lucia. Do you imagine he is 
 such a man as that ? Perhaps it would not do him 
 any harm — a little praying. But it is a kind of 
 medicine he does not relish. No, Lucia, you have 
 been deceived, believe me." 
 
168 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, viii 
 
 , The girl's expression changed. She had quite per- 
 suaded herself that a great moral change had taken 
 place in her father that morning, and had built many 
 hopes upon it. To her sanguine imagination it seemed 
 as though his whole nature must have changed. She 
 had seen visions of him as she had always wished he 
 might be, and the visions had seemed likely to be 
 realised. She had doubted whether she should tell 
 any one the story of what she regarded as Marzio's 
 conversion, but she had made an exception in favour 
 of Gianbattista. Gianbattista simply laughed, and 
 explained the matter away in half a dozen words. 
 Lucia was more deeply disappointed than any one, 
 listening to her light talk, could have believed possible. 
 Her face expressed the pain she felt, and she protested 
 against the apprentice's explanation. 
 
 " It is too bad of you, Tista," she said in hurt tones. 
 " But I do not think you are right. You have no 
 idea how quietly he knelt, and his hands were folded 
 on the bench. He bent his head once, and I believe 
 he kissed the feet — I wish you could have seen it, you 
 would not doubt me. You think I have invented a 
 silly tale, I am sure you do." 
 
 The tears filled her eyes as she turned away and 
 stared vacantly out of the window at the dark houses 
 opposite. The sun, which had been shining until that 
 moment, disappeared behind a mass of driving clouds, 
 
chap, viii MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 169! 
 
 and a few drops of rain began to beat against the^ 
 panes of glass. The world seemed suddenly more 
 dreary to Lucia. Gianbattista, who was sensitive 
 where she was concerned, looked at her, and under- 
 stood that he had destroyed something in which she 
 had wished to believe. 
 
 " Well, well, my heart, perhaps you are right," he 
 said softly, putting his arm round her. 
 
 " No, you do not believe it," she answered. 
 
 " For you, I will believe in anything, in everything 
 — even in Sor Marzio's devotions," he said, pressing 
 her to his side. " Only — you see, darling, he was 
 talking in such a way a few moments before — that it 
 seemed impossible " 
 
 " Nothing is quite impossible," replied Lucia. " The 
 heart beats fast. There may be a whole world between, 
 one beat and the next." 
 
 " Yes, my love," assented Gianbattista, looking ten- 
 derly into her eyes. " But do you think that between 
 all the beatings of our two hearts there could ever be 
 a world of change ? " 
 
 "Ah' — that is different, Tista. Why should we 
 change ? We could only change for worse if we 
 began to love each other less, and that is impossible. 
 But papa ! Why should lie not change for the better ? 
 Who can tell you, Tista, dear, that in a moment, in a- 
 second, after you were gone, he was not sorry for all 
 
170 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP., vm 
 
 he had done ? It may have been in an instant. "Why 
 not?" 
 
 " Things done so very quickly are not done well," 
 answered the young man. " I know that from my art. 
 You may stamp a thing in a moment with the die — it 
 is rough, unfinished. It takes weeks to chisel it " 
 
 " The good God is not a chiseller, Tista." 
 
 The words fell very simply from the young girl's 
 lips, and the expression of her face did not change. 
 Only the tone of her voice was grave and quiet, and 
 there was a depth of conviction in it which struck 
 Gianbattista forcibly. In a short sentence she had 
 defined the difference between his mode of thought and 
 her own. To her mind omnipotence was a reality. 
 To him, it was an inconceivable power, the absurdity 
 of which he sought to demonstrate by. comparing the 
 magnitude claimed for it with the capacities of man. 
 He remained silent for a moment, as though seeking 
 an answer. He found none, and what he said ex- 
 pressed an aspiration and not a retort. 
 
 "I sometimes wish that I could believe as you do," 
 ho said. " I am sure I could do much greater things, 
 make much more beautiful angels, if I were quite sure 
 that they existed." 
 
 " Of course you could," answered Lucia. Then, 
 vnth a tact beyond her years, she changed the subject 
 cf their talk. She would not endanger the durability 
 
chap. VIII MAUZIC-'s CRUCIFIX 17,1 
 
 of his aspiration by discussing it. " To go back to 
 what we were speaking of," she said, " you will go to 
 the workshop this afternoon, Tista, won't you ? " 
 
 " Yes," he said mechanically. " What else should I 
 do ? Oh, Lucia, my darling, I cannot bear this un- 
 certainty," he cried, suddenly giving vent to his feelings. 
 " Where will it end ? He may have changed, he may 
 be all you say he is to-day, all that he was not yester- 
 day, but do you really believe he has given up his wild 
 idea ? It is not all as it should be, and that is not his 
 nature. It will come upon us suddenly with some- 
 thing we do not expect. He will do something— I 
 cannot tell what, but I know him better than you do. 
 He is cruel, he plots over his work, and then, when all 
 seems calm, the storm breaks. It will not end well." 
 
 " We must love each other, Tista. Then all will end 
 well. Who can divide us ? " 
 
 " No one," answered the young man firmly. " But 
 many things may happen before we are united for 
 ever." 
 
 He was not subject to presentiments, and his self- 
 confident nature abhorred the prospect of trouble. 
 He had arrived at Lis conclusion by a logical process, 
 and there seemed no escape from it. As he had told 
 Lucia, he knew the character of the chiseller better 
 than the women of the household could know it, for 
 he had been his constant companion for years, and was 
 
172 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, viii 
 
 not to be deceived in Ins estimate of Marzio's temper. 
 A man's natural disposition shows itself most clearly 
 when he is in his natural element, at his work, busied 
 in the ordinary occupations of his life. To such a man 
 as Marzio, the workshop is more sympathetic than the 
 house. Disagreeing on most points with his family, 
 obliged to be absent during the whole day, wholly 
 absorbed in the production of works which the women 
 of his household could not thoroughly appreciate, be- 
 cause they did not thoroughly understand the ideas 
 which originated them, nor the methods employed in 
 their execution — under these combined circumstances 
 it was to be expected that the artist's real feelings 
 would find expression at the work -bench rather than 
 in the society of his wife and daughter. , Seated by 
 Marzio's side, and learning from him all that could ' be 
 learned, Gianbattista had acquired at the same time a 
 thorough knowledge of his instincts and emotions, which 
 neither Maria Luisa nor Lucia was. able to comprehend. 
 Marzio was tenacious of his ideas and of his schemes. 
 Deficient in power of initiative and in physical courage, 
 he was obstinate beyond all belief in his adherence to 
 his theories. That he should suddenly yield to a 
 devotional impulse, fall upon his knees before a 
 crucifix and cry med culpd over his whole past life, , 
 was altogether out of the question. In Gianbattista's 
 opinion, it was almost as impossible that he should 
 
chap, via MAIiZIO'S CRUCIFIX 173 
 
 abandon in a moment the plan which he had an- 
 nounced with so much resolution on the previous 
 evening. It was certain that before declaring . his 
 determination to marry his daughter to the lawyer he 
 must have ruminated and planned during many days, 
 as it was his habit to do in all the matters of his life, 
 without consulting any one, or giving the slightest 
 hint of his intention. Some part of his remarkable 
 talent depended upon this faculty of thoroughly con- 
 sidering a resolution before proceeding to carry it out ; 
 and it is a part of every really great talent in every 
 branch of creative art, for it is the result of a great 
 continuity in the action of the mind combined with 
 the power of concentration and the virtue of reticence. 
 Many a work has appeared to the world to be the 
 spontaneous creation of transcendent genius, which 
 has, in reality, been conceived, studied, and elaborated 
 during years of silence. Reticence, concentration, and 
 continuity, are characteristics which cannot influence 
 one part of a man's life without influencing the rest as 
 well. The habit of studying' before proceeding is co- 
 existent with the necessity of considering before acting ; 
 and a man who is reticent concerning one half of his 
 thoughts i3 not communicative about the other half. 
 Nature does not do things by halves, and the nerves 
 which animate the gesture at the table are the same 
 which guide the chisel at the work-bench. . . 
 
174 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, yiii 
 
 Gianbattista understood Marzio's character, and in 
 his mind tried to construct the future out of the pre- 
 sent. He endeavoured to follow out what he supposed 
 to be the chiseller's train of thought to its inevitable 
 conclusion, and the more he reflected on the situation 
 the more certain he became that Lucia's hypothesis 
 was untenable. It was not conceivable, under any 
 circumstances whatever, that Marzio should suddenly 
 turn into a gentle, forgiving creature, anxious only for 
 the welfare of others, and willing to sacrifice his own 
 inclinations and schemes to that laudable end. 
 
 At twelve o'clock, Marzio appeared, cold, silent, and 
 preoccupied. His manner did not encourage the idea 
 entertained by Lucia, though the girl explained it to 
 herself on the ground that her father was ashamed of 
 having yielded so easily, and was unwilling to have it 
 thought that he was too good-natured. There was 
 truth in her idea, and it showed a good deal of com- 
 mon sense and appreciation of character. But it was 
 not the whole truth. Marzio not only felt humiliated 
 at having suffered himself to be overcome by his 
 daughter's entreaties ; he regretted it, and wished he 
 could undo what he had done. It was too late, how- 
 ever. To change his mind a second time would be to 
 show such weakness as his family had never witnessed 
 in his actions. 
 
 He ate his food in silence, and the rest of the party 
 
CHAP, viii MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 175 
 
 ventured but few remarks. They inwardly congratu- 
 lated themselves upon the favourable issue of the affair, 
 in so far as it could be said to have reached a conclu- 
 sion, and they all dreaded equally some fresh outburst 
 of anger, should Marzio's temper be ruffled. Gian- 
 battista himself set the example of discretion. As for 
 the Signora Pandolfi, she had ready in her pocket the 
 money her husband had given her in the morning for 
 the purchase of Lucia's outfit, and she hoped at every 
 moment that Marzio would ask for it, which would 
 have been a sign that he had abandoned the idea of 
 the marriage with Cafnesecchi. But Marzio never 
 mentioned the subject. He ate as quickly as he 
 could, swallowed a draught of weak wine and water, 
 and rose from the table without a word. With a 
 significant nod to Maria Luisa and Lucia, Gianbattista 
 left his seat and followed the artist towards the door. 
 Marzio looked round sharply as he heard the steps 
 behiud him. 
 
 " Lucia told me," said the young man simply. " If 
 you wish it, I will come and work." 
 
 Marzio hesitated a moment, beating his soft felt hat 
 over his arm to remove the dust. 
 
 " Y"oii can go with the men and put up the prince's 
 grating," he said at last. " The right hand side is 
 ready fitted. If you work hard you caii finish it be- 
 fore ni"ht." 
 
176 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, vnr 
 
 " Very well," answered Gianbattista. " I will see 
 to it. I have the keys here. In five minutes I will 
 come across." 
 
 Marzio nodded and went out. Gianbattista returned 
 to the room where the women were finishing their dinner. 
 
 " It is all right," he said. " I am to put up the 
 grating this afternoon. Will you come and see it, 
 Sora Luisa ? " He spoke to the mother, but he 
 included the daughter by his look. 
 
 " It is very far," objected the Signora Pandolfi, 
 " and we have been walking so much this morning. 
 I think this day will never end ! " 
 
 " Courage, mamma," said Lucia, ' ; it will do you 
 good to walk. Besides, there is the omnibus. What 
 did he say, Tista ? Am I not right ? " 
 
 " Who knows ? He is very quiet," replied the 
 apprentice. 
 
 "What is it? What are you right about, my heart ?" 
 asked Maria Luisa. 
 
 " She thinks Sor Marzio has suddenly turned into a 
 sugar doll," answered Gianbattista, with a laugh. "It 
 may be. They say they make sugar out of all sorts 
 of things nowadays." 
 
 " Capperi ! It would be hard ! " exclaimed Maria 
 Luisa. " If there is enough sugar in him to sweeten 
 a teaspoonful of coffee, write to me," she added ironi- 
 cally. 
 
chap, virt maezio's CEUCiriX 177 
 
 " Well — I shall be at the church in an hour, but it 
 will be time enough if you come at twenty-three 
 o'clock — between twenty-two and twenty- three." This 
 means between one hour and two hours before sunset. 
 "The light is good then, for there is a big west window," 
 added Gianbattista in explanation. 
 
 " We will come before that," said Lucia. " Good- 
 bye, Tista, and take care not to catch cold in that 
 damp place." 
 
 " And you too," he answered, " cover yourselves 
 carefully." 
 
 AVith this injunction, and a parting wave of the hand, 
 he left the house, affecting a gay humour he did not 
 really feel. His invitation to the two women to join him 
 •in the church had another object besides that of show- 
 ing them the magnificent gilded grating which was to 
 be put in place. Gianbattista feared that Marzio had 
 sent him upon this business for the sake of getting him 
 out of the way, and he did not know what might 
 happen in his absence. The artist might perhaps 
 choose that time for going in search of Gasparo 
 Carnesecchi in order to bring him to the house and 
 precipitate the catastrophe which the apprentice still 
 feared, in spite of the last events of the morning. It 
 was not unusual for Maria Luisa and her daughter 
 to accompany him and Murzio when a finished work 
 was to be set up, and Gianbattista knew that there 
 
 N 
 
178 MAUZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, viii 
 
 could be no reasonable objection to such a pro- 
 ceeding. 
 
 With an anxious heart he left the house and crossed 
 the street to the workshop where the men were already 
 waiting for the carts which were to convey the heavy 
 grating to its destination. The pieces were standing 
 against the walls, wrapped in tow and brown paper, 
 and immense parcels lay tied up upon the benches. 
 It was a great piece of work of the -deeorative kind, 
 but of the sort for which Marzio cared little. Great 
 brass castings were chiselled and finished according to 
 his designs without his touching them with his hands. 
 Huge twining arabesques of solid metal were prepared 
 in pieces and fitted together with screws that ran 
 easily in the thread, and then were taken apart again. 
 Then came the laborious work of gilding by the mer- 
 cury process, smearing every piece very carefully with 
 an amalgam of mercury and gold, and putting it into 
 a gentle, steady fire, until the mercury had evaporated, 
 leaving only the dull gold in an even deposit on the 
 surfaces. Then the finishing, the burnishing of the 
 high lights, and the cleaning of the portions which 
 were to remain dull. Sometimes the gilding of a piece 
 failed, and had to be begun again, and there was end- 
 less trouble in saving the gold, as well as in preventing 
 the workmen from stealing the amalgam. It was slow 
 and troublesome work, and Marzio cared little for it, 
 
CHAP. VIII "MARZIO'S CEUCIFIX l79 
 
 though his artistic instinct restrained him from allowing 
 it to leave the workshop until it had been perfected 
 to the highest degree. 
 
 At present the artist stood in the outer room among 
 the wrapped pieces, his pipe in his mouth and his 
 hands in his pockets. A moment after Gianbattista 
 had entered, two carts rolled up to the door and the 
 loading began. 
 
 " Take the drills and some screws to spare," said 
 Marzio, looking into the bag of tools the foreman had 
 prepared. " One can never tell in these monstrous 
 things." 
 
 " It will be the first time, if we have to drill a new 
 hole after you have fitted a piece of work, Maestro 
 Marzio," answered the foreman, who had an unlimited 
 admiration for his master's genius and foresight. 
 
 " Never mind ; do as I tell you. "We may all make 
 mistakes in this world," returned the artist, giving 
 utterance to a moral sentiment which did not influence 
 him beyond the precincts of the workshop. The 
 workman obeyed, and added the requisite instruments 
 to the furnishing of his leather bag. 
 
 " And be careful, Tista," added Marzio, turning to 
 the apprentice. " Look to the sockets in the marble 
 when you place the large pieces. Measure them with 
 your compass, you know ; if they are too loose you 
 bave the thin plates of brass to pack them ; if they 
 
180 MAKZIO'S CEUCIFIX CHAP, vm 
 
 are tight, file away, but finish and smooth it well. 
 Don't leave anything rough." 
 
 Gianbattista nodded as he lent a helping hand to 
 the workmen who were carrying the heavy pieces to 
 the carts. 
 
 " Will you come to the church before night ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Perhaps. I cannot tell. I am very busy." 
 
 In ten minutes the pieces were all piled upon the 
 two vehicles, and Gianbattista strode away on foot with 
 the workmen. He had not thought of" changing Lis 
 dress, and had merely thrown an old overcoat over his 
 grey woollen blouse. For the time, he was an artisan 
 at work. When working hours were over, and on 
 Sundays, he loved to put on the stiff high collar and 
 the checked clothes which suggested the garments of 
 the English tourist. He was then a different person, 
 and, in accordance with the change, he would smoke 
 a cigarette and pull his cuffs over his hands, like a 
 real gentleman, adjusting the angle of his hat from 
 time to time, and glancing at his reflection in the shop 
 windows as he passed along. But work was work ; it 
 was a pity to spoil good clothes with handling tools 
 and castings, and jostling against the men, and, more- 
 over, the change affected his nature. He could not 
 handle a hammer or a chisel when he felt like a real 
 gentleman, and when he felt like an artisan he must 
 
CHAP. VIII MAUZIO'S CRUCIFIX 181 
 
 enjoy the liberty of being able to tuck up his sleeves 
 and work with a will. At the present moment, too, 
 he was proud of being in sole charge of the work, 
 and he could not help thinking what a fine thing it 
 would be to be married to Lucia and to be the master 
 of the workshop. With the sanguine enthusiasm of a 
 very young man who loves his occupation, he put his 
 whole soul into what he was to do, assured that 
 every skilful stroke of the hammer, every difficulty 
 overcome, brought him nearer to the woman he loved. 
 
 Marzio entered the inner studio when Gianbattista 
 was gone, leaving a boy who was learning to cut little 
 files — the preliminary to the chiseller's profession — in 
 charge of the outer workshop. The artist shut himself 
 in and bolted the door, glad to be alone with the pros- 
 pect of not being disturbed during the whole afternoon. 
 He seemed not to hesitate about the work he intended 
 to do, for he immediately took in hand the Crucifix, 
 laid it upon the table, and began to study it, using a 
 lens from time to time as he scrutinised each detail. 
 His rough hair fell forward over his forehead, and his 
 shoulders rounded themselves till he looked almost 
 deformed. 
 
 He had suffered very strong emotions during the 
 last twenty-four hours — enough to have destroyed the 
 steadiness of an ordinary man's hand ; but with Marzio 
 manual skill was the first habit of nature, and it would 
 
182 MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, vm 
 
 have been hard to find a mental impression which 
 could shake his physical nerves. His mind, however, 
 worked rapidly and almost fiercely, while his eyes 
 searched the minute lines of the work he was ex- 
 amining. 
 
 Uppermost in his thoughts was a confused sense of 
 humiliation and of exasperation against his brother. 
 The anger he felt had nearly been expressed in a 
 murderous deed not more than two or three hours 
 ea-rlier, and the wish to strike was still present in his 
 mind. He twisted his lips into an ugly smile as lie 
 recalled the scene in every detail ; but the determina- 
 tion Was different from the reality and more in accord- 
 ance with his feelings. He realised again that moment 
 during which he had held the sharp instrument over bis 
 brother's head, and the thought which had then passed 
 so rapidly through his brain recurred again with in- 
 creased clearness. He remembered that beneath the 
 iron-bound box in the corner there was a trap- door 
 which descended to the unused cellar, for his work- 
 shop had in former times been a wine-shop, and he had 
 hired the cellar with it. One sharp blow would have 
 done the business. A few quick movements and 
 Paolo's body would have been thrown down the dark 
 steps beneath, the trap closed again, the safe replaced 
 in its position. It was eleven o'clock then, or there- 
 abouts. He would have sent the workmen to their 
 
chap, vin MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 183 
 
 dinner, and would have returned to the inner studio. 
 They would have supposed afterwards that Don Paolo 
 had left the place with him. He would have gone 
 home and would have said that Paolo had left him — 
 or, no — he would have said that Paolo had not been 
 there, for some one might see him leave the workshop 
 alone. In the night he would have returned, his 
 family thinking he had gone to "meet his friends, as 
 he often did. When the streets were quiet he weuld 
 have carried the body away upon the handcart tliat 
 stood in the entry of the outer room. It was not far — 
 scarcely three hundred yards, allowing for the turnings 
 — to the place where the Via Montella ends in a mud 
 bank by the dark river. A deserted neighbourhood, 
 too — a turn to the left, the low trees of the Piazza de' 
 Branca, the dark, short, straight street to the water. 
 At one o'clock after midnight who was stirring ? 
 It would all have been so simple, so terribly 
 effectual. 
 
 And then there would have been no more Paolo, 
 no more domestic annoyances, no more of the priest's 
 smooth-faced disapprobation and perpetual opposi- 
 tion in the house. He would have soon brought 
 Maria Luisa and Lucia to reasoil. What could they 
 do without the support of Paolo ? They were only 
 women after all. As for Gianbat-tista, if once the 
 poisonous influence of Paolo were removed — and how 
 
184 TtfARZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, vm 
 
 surely removed ! — Marzio's lips twisted as though he 
 were tasting the sourness of failure, like. an acid fruit 
 — if once the priest were gone, Gianbattista would 
 come back to his old ways, to his old scorn of priests 
 in general, of churches, of oppression, of everything 
 that Marzio hated. He might marry Lucia then, and 
 be welcome. After all, he was a finer fellow for the 
 pretty girl than Gasparo Carnesecchi, with his claw 
 fingers and his vinegar salad. That was only a farce, 
 that proposal about the lawyer — the real thing was to 
 get rid of Paolo. There could be no healthy liberty 
 of thought in the house while this fellow was sneakin" 
 in and out at all hours. Tumble Paolo into a quiet 
 grave — into the river with a sackful of old castings at 
 his neck — there would be peace then, and freedom. 
 Marzio ground his teeth as he thought how nearly he 
 had done the thing, and how miserably he had failed. 
 It had been the inspiration of the moment, and the 
 details had appeared clear at once to his mind. Going 
 over them he found that he had not been mistaken. 
 If Paolo came again, and he had the chance, he would 
 do it. It was perhaps all the better that he had found 
 time to weigh the matter. 
 
 But would Paolo come again ? Would he ever 
 trust himself alone in the workshop ? Had he guessed, 
 when he turned so suddenly and saw the weapon in the 
 air, that the blow was on the very point of descending? 
 
chap, vin MARZIO'S CEUCIFIX 185- 
 
 Or had he been deceived by the clumsy excuse Marzio 
 had made about the sun shining in his eyes ? 
 
 He had remained calm, or Marzio tried to think so. 
 But the artist himself had been so much moved during 
 the minutes that followed that he could hardly feel 
 sure of Paolo's behaviour. It was a chilling thought, 
 that Paolo might have understood and might have 
 gone away feeling that his life had been saved almost 
 by a miracle. He would not come back, the cunning 
 priest, in that case ; he would not risk his precious 
 skin in such company. It was not to be expected — a 
 priest was only human, after all, like any other man. 
 Marzio cursed his ill luck again as he bent over his 
 work. "What a moment this would be if Paolo would 
 take it into his head to make another visit ! Even 
 the men were gone. He would send the one boy who 
 remained to the church where Gianbattista was work- 
 ing, with a message. They would be alone then, he 
 and Paolo. The priest might scream and call for help 
 — the thick walls would not let any sound through 
 them. It would be even better than in the morning, 
 when he had lost his opportunity by a moment, by 
 the twinkling of an eye. 
 
 "They say hell is paved with good intentions — or 
 lost opportunities," muttered Marzio. " I will send 
 Paolo with the next opportunity to help in the 
 paving.'' 
 
186 maezio's CRUCIFIX: chap., yi ii 
 
 He laughed softly at Lis grim joke, and bent lower 
 over the crucifix. By this time lie had determined 
 what to do, for his reflections had not interfered with 
 his occupation. Removing two tiny silver screws 
 which fitted with the utmost exactness in the threads, 
 he loosened the figure from the cross, removed the 
 latter to a shelf on the wall, and returning laid the 
 statue on a soft leathern pad, surrounding it with 
 sand-bags till it was propped securely in the position 
 he required. Then he took a very small chisel, ad- 
 justed it with the greatest care, and tapped upon it 
 with the round wooden handle of his little hammer. 
 At each touch he examined the surface with his lens 
 to assure himself that he was making the improve- 
 ment he contemplated. It was very delicate work, 
 and as he did it he felt a certain pride in the reflec- 
 tion that he could not have detected the place where 
 improvement was possible when he had worked upon 
 the piece ten years ago. He found it now, in the 
 infinitesimal touches upon the expression of the face, 
 in the minute increase in the depressions and accentu- 
 ated lines in the anatomy of the figure. As he went 
 over each portion he became more and more certain 
 that though he could not at present do better in the 
 way of idea and general execution, he had nevertheless 
 gained in subtle knowledge of effects and in skill of 
 handling the chisel upon very delicate points. The 
 
chap, vni MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 187 
 
 certainty gave liim the real satisfaction of legitimate 
 pride. He knew that he had reached the zenith of 
 his capacities. His old "wish to keep the crucifix for 
 himself began to return. 
 
 If he disposed of Paolo he might keep his work. 
 Only Paolo had seen it. The absurd want of logic 
 in the conclusion did not . strike him. He had not 
 pledged himself to his brother to give this particular 
 crucifix to the Cardinal, and if he had, he could easily 
 have found a reason for keeping it back. But lie was 
 too much accustomed to think that Paolo was always 
 in the way of his wishes, to look at so simple a matter 
 in such a simple light. 
 
 "It is strange/' he said to himself. "'The smallest 
 things seem to point to it. If he would only come ! " 
 
 Again his mind returned to the contemplation of 
 the deed, and again he reviewed all the circumstances 
 necessary for its safe execution. "What an inspiration, 
 lie thought, and what a pity it had not found shape in 
 fact at the very moment when it had presented itself ! 
 He considered why he had never thought of it before, 
 in all the years, as a means of freeing himself effect- 
 ually from the despotism he detested. It was a 
 despotism, he reflected, and no other word expressed 
 it. He recalled many scenes in his home, in which 
 Taolo had interfered. He remembered how one Sun- 
 day, in the afternoon, they had all been together before 
 
188 MABZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, viii 
 
 going to walk in the Corso, and how he had undertaken 
 to demonstrate to Maria Luisa and Lucia the folly of 
 wasting time in going to church on Sundays. He had 
 argued gently and reasonably, he thought. But sud- 
 denly Paolo had interrupted him, saying that he would 
 not allow Marzio to compare a church to a circus, nor 
 priests to mountebanks and tight-rope dancers. Why 
 not ? Then the women had begun to scream and cry, 
 and to talk of his blasphemous language until he could 
 not hear himself speak. It was Paolo's fault. If Paolo 
 had not been there the women would have listened 
 patiently enough, and would doubtless have reaped 
 some good from his reasonable discourse. On another 
 occasion Marzio had declared that Lucia should never 
 be taught anything about Christianity, that the definir 
 tion of God was reason, that Garibaldi had baptized 
 one child in the name of Eeason and that he, Marzio, 
 could baptize another quite as effectually. Paolo had 
 interfered, and Maria Luisa had screamed. The con- 
 test had lasted nearly a month, at the end of which 
 time, Marzio had been obliged to abandon the uneven 
 contest, vowing vengeance in some shape for the future. 
 Many and many such scenes rose to Ins memory, 
 and in every one Paolo was the opposer, the enemy 
 of his peace, the champion of all that he hated and 
 despised. In great things and small his brother had 
 been his antagonist from his early manhood, through 
 
CHAP, vill MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 189 
 
 eighteen years of married life to the present day. 
 And yet, without Faolo, lie could hardly have hoped 
 to find himself in Lis present state of fortune. 
 
 This was one of the chief sources of his humiliation 
 in his own eyes. With such a character as his, it 
 is eminently true that it is harder to forgive a benefit 
 than an injury. He might have felt less bitterly 
 against his brother if he had not received at his hands 
 the orders and commissions which had turned into solid 
 money in the bank. It was hard to face Paolo, know- 
 ing that lie owed two-thirds of his fortune to such a 
 source. If he could get rid of the priest he would 
 be relieved at once from the burden of this annoy- 
 ance, of this financial subjection, as well of all that 
 embittered his life. He pictured to himself his wife 
 and daughter listening respectfully to his harangues 
 and beginning to practise his principles, Gianbattista, 
 an eloquent member of the society in the inner room 
 of the old inn, reformed, purged from his sneaking 
 fondness for Paolo — since Paolo would not be in the 
 world any longer — and ultimately married to Lucia, 
 the father of children who should all be baptized in the 
 name of Reason, and the worthy successor of himself, 
 Marzio Pandolfi. 
 
 Scrutinising the statue under his lens, he detected 
 a slight imperfection in the place where one of the 
 sharp thorns touched the silver forehead of the beauti- 
 
190 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap. .viii 
 
 ful, tortured head. He looked about for a tool fine 
 enough for the work, but none suited his wants. He 
 took up the long fine-pointed punch he had thrown 
 back upon the table after the scene in the morning. 
 It was too long, and over sharp, but by turning it 
 sideways it would do the work under his dexterous 
 fingers. 
 
 " Strange ! " he muttered, as he tapped upon the 
 tool. " It is like a consecration ! " 
 
 When he had made the stroke he dropped the 
 instrument into the pocket of his blouse, as though 
 fearing to lose it. He had no occasion to use it again, 
 though he went on with his work during several 
 hours. 
 
 The thoughts which had passed through his brain 
 recurred, and did not diminish in clearness. On the 
 contrary, it was as though the passing impulse of the 
 morning had grown during those short hours into a 
 settled and unchangeable resolution. Once he rose 
 from his stool, and going to the corner, dragged away 
 the iron-bound safe from its place. A rusty ring lay 
 flat in a little hollow in the surface of the trap-door. 
 Marzio bent over it with a pale face and gleaming 
 eyes. It seemed to him as though, if lie looked round, 
 he should see Paolo's body lying on the floor, ready to 
 be dropped into the space below. He raised the wood 
 and set the trap back against the wall, peering down 
 
chap, via MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 191 
 
 into the black depths. A damp smell came up to his 
 nostrils from the moist staircase. He struck a match, 
 and held it into the opening, to see in what direction 
 the stairs led down. 
 
 Something moved behind him and made a little 
 noise. With a short cry of horror Marzio sprang 
 back from the opening and looked round. It was as 
 though the body of the murdered man had stirred 
 upon the floor. His overstrained imagination terrified 
 him, and his eyes started from his head. He examined 
 the bench and saw the cause of the sound in a moment. 
 The silver Christ, unsteadily propped in the position 
 in which he had just placed it, had fallen upon one 
 side of the pad by its own weight. 
 
 Marzio's heart still beat desperately as he went 
 back to the hole and carefully reclosed the trap-door, 
 dragging the heavy safe to its position over the ring. 
 Trembling violently, he sat down upon his stool and 
 wiped the cold perspiration from his forehead. Then, 
 as he laid the figure upon the cushion, he glanced 
 uneasily behind him and at the corner. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 When Don Paolo had shut the door of the studio 
 and found himself once more in the open street, 
 he felt a strangely unpleasant sensation about the 
 heart, and for a few moments he was very pale. 
 He had suffered a shock, and in spite of his best 
 efforts to explain away what had occurred, he knew 
 that he had been in danger. Any one who, being him- 
 self defenceless, has suddenly seen a pistol pointed at him 
 in earnest, or a sharp weapon raised in the air to strike 
 him, knows the feeling well enough. Probably he has 
 afterwards tried to reason upon what he felt in that 
 moment, and has failed to come to any conclusion 
 except the very simple one, that he was badly fright- 
 ened. Hector was no coward, but he let Achilles 
 chase him three times round Troy before he could 
 make up his mind to stand and fight, and but for 
 Athena he might have run even further. And yet 
 Hector was armed at all points for battle. He was 
 badly frightened, brave man as he was. 
 
 But when the first impression was gone, and Paolo 
 
chap. IX MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 193 
 
 was walking quickly in the direction of the palace 
 where the Cardinal lived, he stoutly denied to him- 
 self that Marzio had meant to harm him. In the first 
 place, he could find no adequate reason for such an 
 attempt upon his life. It was true that his relations 
 with his brother had not been very amicable for some 
 time ; but between quarrelling and doing murder, 
 Paolo saw a gulf too wide to be easily overstepped, 
 even by such a person as Marzio. Then, too, the 
 good man was unwilling to suspect any one of bad 
 intentions, still less of meditating a crime. This con- 
 sideration, however, was not, logically speaking, in 
 Marzio's favour ; for since Paolo was less suspicious 
 than other men, it must necessarily have needed a 
 severe shock to shake his faith in his brother's inno- 
 cence. He had seen the weapon in the air, and had 
 seen also the murderous look in the artist's eyes. 
 
 " I had better not think anything more about it," 
 he said to himself, fearing lest he should think any- 
 thing unjust. 
 
 So he went on his way towards the palace, and 
 tried to think about Gianbattista and Lucia, their mar- 
 riage and their future life. The two young faces came 
 up before him as he walked, and he smiled calmly, 
 forgetting what he had so recently passed through, in 
 the pleasant contemplation of a happiness not his own. 
 He reached his rooms, high up at the top of the ancient, 
 
 o 
 
194 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, ix 
 
 building, and he sighed with a sense of relief as he 
 sat down upon the battered old chair before his writing- 
 table. 
 
 Presently the Cardinal sent for him. Don Paolo 
 rose and carefully brushed the dust from his cassock 
 and mantle, and smoothed the long silk nap of his hat. 
 He was a very neat man and scrupulous as to his 
 appearance. Moreover, he regarded the Cardinal with 
 a certain awe, as being far removed beyond the sphere 
 of ordinary humanity, even though he had known him 
 intimately for years. This idea of the great importance 
 of the princes of the Church is inherent in the Eoman 
 mind. There is no particular reason why it should be 
 eradicated, since it exists, and does no harm to any one, 
 but it is a singular fact and worthy of remark. It is 
 one of those many relics of old times, which no amount 
 of outward change has been able to obliterate. A 
 cardinal in Rome occupies a position wholly distinct 
 from that of any other dignitary or hereditary noble. 
 It is not so elsewhere, except perhaps in some parts 
 of the south. The Piedmontese scoffs at cardinals, 
 because he scoffs at the church and at all religion in 
 general. The Florentine shrugs his shoulders because 
 cardinals represent Rome, and Rome, with all that is 
 in it, is hateful to Florence, and always was. But the 
 true Roman, even when he has adopted the ideas of 
 the new school,, still feels an unaccountable reverence 
 
chap, ix MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 195 
 
 for the scarlet mantle. There is a dignity — often, now, 
 very far from magnificent — about the household of a 
 cardinal, which is not found elsewhere. The servants 
 are more grave and tread more softly, the rooms are' 
 darker and more severe, the atmosphere is more still 
 and the silence more intense, than in the houses of 
 lay princes. A man feels in the very air the presence 
 of a far-reaching power, noiselessly working to produce 
 great results. 
 
 Don Paolo descended the stairs and entered the 
 apartments through the usual green baize door, which 
 swung upon its hinges by its own weight behind him. 
 He passed through several large halls, scantily and 
 sombrely furnished, in the last of which stood the 
 throne chair, turned to the wall, beneath a red canopy. 
 Beyond this great reception -chamber, and communi- 
 cating with it by a low masked door, was the 
 Cardinal's study, a small room, very high and lighted 
 by a single tall window which opened upon an inner 
 court of the palace. The furniture was very simple, 
 consisting of a large writing-table, a few high-backed 
 chairs, and the Cardinal's own easy-chair, covered with 
 dingy leather and well worn by use. On the dark 
 green walls hung two engravings, one a portrait of 
 Pius IX., the other a likeness of Leo XIII. The 
 Cardinal himself sat in the arm-chair, holding a news- 
 paper spread out upon his knees. 
 
196' MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX OHA1-. ix 
 
 " Good- day, Don Paolo," he said, in a pleasant, but 
 not very musical voice. 
 
 His Eminence was a man about sixty years of age, 
 hale and strong in appearance, but below the middle 
 height and somewhat inclining to stoutness. His face 
 was round, and the complexion very clear, which, with 
 his small and bright brown eyes, gave him a look of 
 cheerful vitality. Short white hair fringed his head 
 where it was not covered by the small scarlet skull-cap. 
 He wore a purple cassock with scarlet buttons and a 
 scarlet silk mantle, which fell in graceful folds over 
 one arm of the chair. 
 
 " Good-day, Eminence," answered Don Paolo, touch- 
 ing the great ruby ring with his lips. Then, in 
 obedience to a gesture, the priest sat down upon one of 
 the high-backed chairs. 
 
 " What weather have we to-day ?" asked the Cardinal 
 after a pause. 
 
 " Scirocco, Eminence." 
 
 "Ah, I thought so — especially this morning, very 
 early. It is very disagreeable. Since Tadre Seech i 
 found that the scirocco really brings the sand of the 
 desert with it, I dislike it more than ever. And what 
 have you been doing, Don Paolo ? Have you been to 
 see about the crucifix ?" 
 
 " I spoke to my brother about it last night, Emin- 
 ence. He said he would do his best to make it in the 
 
CHAP. IX. MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 197 
 
 time, but that he would have preferred to have a kittle 
 longer." 
 
 o 
 
 " He is a good artist, your brother," said the 
 Cardinal, nodding his head slowly and joining his 
 hands, while the newspaper slipped to the floor. 
 
 "A good artist," repeated Don Paolo, stooping to 
 pick up the sheet. " I have just seen his best work 
 - — a crucifix such as your Eminence wishes. Indeed, 
 he proposed that you should take it, for he says he 
 can make nothing better." 
 
 " Let us see, let us see," answered the prelate, in a 
 tone which showed that he did not altogether like the 
 proposal. " You say he has it already made. Tell 
 me, has your brother much work to do just now 1" 
 
 " Not much, Eminence. He has just finished the 
 grating of a chapel for some church or other. I think 
 I saw a silver ewer begun upon his table." 
 
 " I thought that perhaps he had not time for my 
 crucifix." 
 
 " But he is an artist, my brother ! cried the priest, 
 who resented the idea that Marzio might wish -to palm 
 off an ill-made object in order to save time. " He is 
 a good artist, he loves the work, he always does his 
 best ! When he says he can do nothing better than 
 what he has already finished, I believe him." 
 
 " So much the better," replied the Cardinal. '' But 
 we must see the work before deciding. You seem to 
 
198 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, ix 
 
 have great faith in your brother's good intentions, Don 
 Paolo. Is it not true ? Dear me ! You were almost 
 angry with me for suggesting that he might Le too 
 busy to undertake my commission." 
 
 " Angry ! I angry ? Your Eminence is unjust. 
 Marzio puts much conscience into his work. That is 
 all." 
 
 " Ah, he is a man of conscience ? I did not know. 
 But, being your brother, he should be, Don Paolo." 
 The prelate's bright brown eyes twinkled. 
 
 Paolo was silent, though he bowed his head in 
 acknowledgment of the indirect praise. 
 
 " You do not say anything," observed the Cardinal, 
 looking at his secretary with a smile. 
 
 " He is a man of convictions," answered Paolo, at 
 last. 
 
 " That is better than nothing, better than being 
 lukewarm. ' Because thou art lukewarm,' you know 
 the rest." 
 
 " Incijpiam te evomere," replied the priest mechani- 
 cally. " Marzio is not lukewarm." 
 
 " Frigidusne ?" asked the Cardinal. 
 
 " Hardly that." 
 
 "An calidus ?" 
 
 "~Not very, Eminence. That is, not exactly." 
 
 " But then, in heaven's name, what is he ?" laughed 
 the prelate. " If he is not cold, nor hot, nor luke- 
 
chap, ix MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX 199 
 
 warm, what is he ? He interests me. He is a sin<ni- 
 lar case." 
 
 " He is a man who has his opinions," answered Don 
 Paolo. " What shall I say ? He is so good an artist 
 that he is a little crazy about other things." 
 
 " His opinions are not ours, I suppose. I have 
 sometimes thought as much from the way you speak of 
 him. Well, well — he is not old ; his opinions will 
 change. You are very much attached to your brother, 
 Don Paolo, are you not ?" 
 
 "We are brothers, Eminence." 
 
 " So were Cain and Abel, if I am not mistaken," 
 observed the Cardinal. Paolo looked about the room 
 uneasily. "I only mean to say," continued the pre- 
 late, " that men may be brothers and yet not love each 
 other." 
 
 " Come si fa ? What can one do about it ? " ejacu- 
 lated Paolo. 
 
 "You must try and influence him. You must do 
 your best to make him change his views. You must 
 make an effort to bring him to a better state of mind." 
 
 " Eh ! I know," answered the priest. "I do my 
 best, but I do not succeed. He thinks I interfere. I 
 am not San Eilippo Neri. Why should I conceal the 
 matter ? Marzio is not a bad man, but he is crazy 
 about what he calls politics. He believes in a new 
 state of things. He thinks that everything is bad and 
 
200 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, ix 
 
 ought to be destroyed. Then he and his friends would 
 build up the ideal state." 
 
 " There would soon be nothing but equality to eat 
 • — fried, roast and boiled. I have heard that there are 
 socialists even here in Rome. I cannot imagine what 
 they want." 
 
 " They want to divide the wealth of the country 
 among themselves," answered Don Paolo. "What 
 strange ideas men have !" 
 
 " To divide the wealth of the country they have 
 only to subtract a paper currency from an inflated 
 national debt. There would be more unrighteousness 
 than mammon left after such a proceeding. It reminds 
 me of a story I heard last year. A deputation of 
 socialists waited upon a high personage in Vienna. 
 Who knows what for ? But they went. They told 
 him that it was his duty to divide his wealth amongst 
 the inhabitants of the city. And he said they were 
 quite right. ' Look here,' said he, ' I possess about 
 seven hundred thousand florins. It chances that 
 Vienna has about seven hundred thousand inhabitants. 
 Here, you have each one florin. It is your share. 
 Good-morning.' You see he was quite just. So, per- 
 haps, if your brother had his way, and destroyed 
 everything, and divided the proceeds equally, he would 
 have less afterwards than he had before. What ,do 
 yon think ? " 
 
chap, ix MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 201 
 
 " It is quite true, Eminence. But I am afraid he 
 will never understand that. He lias very unchange- 
 able opinions." 
 
 " They will change all the more suddenly when he 
 is tired of them. Those ideas are morbid, like the 
 ravings of a man in a fever. "When the fever has 
 worn itself out, there comes a great sense of lassitude, 
 and a desire for peace." 
 
 " Provided it ever really does wear itself out,'' said 
 Don Taolo, sadly. 
 
 " Eh ! it will, some day. With such political ideas, 
 I. suppose your brother is an atheist, is lie not?" 
 
 " I hope he believes in something," replied the 
 priest evasively. 
 
 " And yet he makes a good living by manufactur- 
 ing vessels for the service of the Church," continued 
 the Cardinal, with a smile. " Why did you never 
 tell me about your brother's peculiar views, Don 
 Paolo?" 
 
 " Why should I trouble you with such matters ? I 
 am sorry I have said so much, for no one can under- 
 stand exactly what Marzio is, who does not know him. 
 It is an injury to him to let your Eminence know that 
 he is a freethinker. And yet he is not a bad man, I 
 believe. He has no vices that I know of, except a 
 sharp tongue. He is sober and works hard. That is 
 much in these days. Though he is mistaken, he will 
 
202. MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, ix 
 
 doubtless come to his senses, as you say. I do not 
 hate him. I would not injure him." 
 
 "Why do you think it can harm him to let me 
 know about him ? Do you think that I, or others, 
 would not employ him if we knew all about him ? " 
 
 " It would seem natural that your Eminence should 
 hesitate to do so." 
 
 "Let us see, Don Paolo. There are some bad 
 priests in the world, I suppose ; are there not ? " 
 
 " It is to be feared " 
 
 " Yes, there are. There are bad priests in all forms 
 of religion. Yet they say mass. Of course, very 
 often the people know that they are bad. Do you 
 think that the mass is less efficacious for the salvation 
 of those who attend it, provided that they themselves 
 pray with the same earnestness ? " 
 
 " No ; certainly not. Tor otherwise it would be 
 necessary that the people should ascertain whether 
 the priest is in a state of grace every time he cele- 
 brates ; and since their salvation would then depend 
 upon that, they would be committing a sin if they did 
 not examine the relative morality of different priests 
 and select the most saintly one." 
 
 "Well then, so much the more is it indifferent 
 whether the inanimate vessels we use are chiselled by a 
 saint or an unbeliever. Their use sanctifies them, not 
 the moral goodness of the artist. For, by your own 
 
chap. IX MAEZIO'S CKUCIFIX 203 
 
 argument, we should otherwise be committing a sin if 
 we did not find out the most saintly men and set 
 them to silver- chisellinsr instead of ordaining them 
 bishops and archbishops. It would take a long time 
 to build a church if you only employed masons who 
 were in a state of grace." 
 
 "Well, but would you not prefer that the artist 
 should be a good man ? " 
 
 " For his own sake, Don Paolo, for his own sake. 
 The thing he makes is not at all less worthy if lie is 
 bad. Are there not in many of our churches pillars 
 that stood in Eoman temples ? Is not the canopy over 
 the high altar in Saint Peter's made of the bronze roof 
 of the Pantheon ? And besides, what is goodness ? 
 We are all bad, but some are worse than others. 
 It is not our business to judge, or to distribute com- 
 missions for works of art to those whom we think the 
 best among men, as one gives medals and prizes to 
 industrious and well-behaved children." 
 
 " That is very clear, and very true," answered the 
 priest. 
 
 He did not really want to discuss the question 
 of Marzio's belief or unbelief. Perhaps, if he had not 
 been disturbed in mind by the events of the morning 
 he would have avoided the subject, as he had often 
 done before when the Cardinal had questioned him. 
 But to-day he was not quite himself, and being unable 
 
204 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, ix 
 
 to tell a falsehood of any kind lie had spoken more of 
 the truth than he had wished. He felt that he had 
 perhaps been unjust to his brother. He looked ill at 
 ease, and the Cardinal noticed it, for ho was a kindly- 
 man and very fond of his secretary. 
 
 "You must not let the matter trouble you," said 
 the prelate, after a pause. " I am an inquisitive old 
 man, as you know, and I like to be acquainted with 
 my friends' affairs. But I am afraid I have annoyed 
 you " 
 
 " Oh ! Your Eminence could never " 
 
 " Never intentionally," interrupted the Cardinal. 
 " But it is human to err, and it is especially human to 
 bore one's fellow-creatures with inquisitive questions. 
 We all have our troubles, Don Paolo, and I am yours. 
 Some day, perhaps, you will be a cardinal yourself — • 
 who knows ? I hope so. And then you will have an 
 excellent secretary, who will be much too good, even 
 for you, and whom you can torture by the hour 
 together with inquiries about his relations. Well, if 
 it is only for your sake, Sor Marzio shall never have 
 any fewer commissions, even if he turn out more in 
 earnest with his socialism than most of those fellows." 
 
 "You are too kind," said Paolo simply. 
 
 He was very grateful for the kindly words, for lie 
 knew that they were meant and not said merely in 
 jest. The idea that he had perhaps injured Marzio in 
 
CHAP. IX MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 2"05- 
 
 the Cardinal's estimation was very painful to him, in 
 spite of what he had felt that morning. Moreover, 
 the prelate's plain, common-sense view of the case 
 reassured him, and removed a doubt that had long ago 
 disturbed his peace of mind. On reflection it seemed 
 true enough, and altogether reasonable, but Paolo 
 knew in his heart what a sensation of repulsion, not 
 to say loathing, he would experience if he should ever 
 be called upon to use in the sacred services a vessel of 
 his brother's making. The thought that those long, 
 cruel fingers of Marzio's had hammered and worked : 
 out the delicate design would pursue him and disturb 
 his thoughts. The sound of Marzio's voice, mpcking 
 at all the priest held holy, would be in his ears and r 
 would mingle with the very words of the canon. 
 
 But then, provided that he himself were not obliged to 
 use his brother's chalices, what could it matter ? The 
 Cardinal did not know the artist, and whatever picture 
 he might make to himself of the man would be 
 shadowy and indistinct. The feeling, then, was his 
 own and quite personal. It would be the height of- 
 superstitious folly to suppose that any evil principle 
 could be attached to the silver and gold because they 
 were : chiselled by- impious hands. A simple matter 
 this,' but one which had many a time distressed Don r 
 Paolo. 
 
 There was a long pause after the priest's last words, 
 
206 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, ix 
 
 daring which the prelate looked at him from time to 
 time, examined his own white hands, and turned his 
 great ruby ring round his finger. 
 
 " Let us go to work," he said at length, as though 
 dismissing the subject of the conversation from his 
 mind. 
 
 Paolo fetched a large portfolio of papers and estab- 
 lished himself at the writing-table, while the Cardinal 
 examined the documents one by one, and dictated what 
 he had to say about- them to Lis secretary. During 
 two hours or more the two men remained steadily at 
 their task. When the last paper was read and the last, 
 note upon it written out, the Cardinal rose from his 
 arm-chair and went to the window. There was no 
 sound in the room but that of the sand rattling upon 
 the stiff surface, as Paolo poured it over the wet ink 
 in the old-fashioned way, shook it about and returned- 
 it to the little sandbox by the inkstand. Suddenly 
 the old churchman turned round and faced the priest. 
 
 " One of these days, when you and I are asleep out 
 there at San Lorenzo, there will be a fight, my friend," 
 he said. 
 
 " About what, Eminence ? " asked the other. 
 
 "About silver chalices, perhaps. About many 
 things. It will be a great fight, such as the world 
 has never seen before." 
 
 " I do not understand," said Don Paolo. 
 
chap. IX MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX' 207. 
 
 "Your brother represents an idea," answered the 
 Cardinal. " That idea is the subversion of all social 
 principle. It is an idea which must spread, because 
 there is an enormous number of depraved men in the 
 world who have a very great interest in the destruction 
 of law. The watchword of that party will always he. 
 ' there is no God,' because God is order, and they desire 
 disorder. They will, it is true, always be a minority, 
 because the greater part of mankind are determined 
 that order shall not be destroyed. But those fellows, 
 will fight to the death, because they know that in that, 
 battle there will be no quarter for the vanquished. It 
 will be a mighty struggle and will last long, but it 
 will be decisive, and will perhaps never be revived 
 when it is once over. Men will kill ench ether wherc- 
 ever they meet, during months and years, before the 
 end comes, for all men who say that there is a God in 
 Heaven will be upon the one side, and all those who 
 say there is no God will be upon the other." 
 
 "May we not be alive to see anything so dreadful!" 
 exclaimed Don Paolo devoutly. 
 
 " No, you and I shall not see it. But those little 
 children who are playing with chestnuts down there in 
 the court — they will see it. The world is uneasy and 
 dreads the very name of war, lest war should become 
 universal if it once breaks out. Tell your brother 
 that." 
 
20S- MIIIZIO'S CRUCIFIX ghap. ix 
 
 " It is what he longs for. He is always speaking 
 of it." 
 
 " Then it is inevitable. - When many millions like, 
 him have determined that there shall be evil done, it 
 cannot long be warded off. Their blood be oii their 
 own heads." 
 
 When Don Paolo had climbed again to his lonely 
 lodging, half an hour later, he pondered long upon 
 what the Cardinal had said to him, and the longer he 
 thought of it, the more truth there seemed to be in 
 the prediction. 
 
CHAPTEE X 
 
 Gianbattista reached the church in which he was to do 
 his work, and superintended the unloading of the carts. 
 It was but a little after one o'clock, and he expected 
 to succeed in putting up the grating before night. The 
 "pieces were carefully carried to the chapel where they 
 . were to be placed, and laid down in the order in which 
 they would be needed. It took -a long time to arrange 
 them, and the apprentice was glad he had advised 
 Maria Luisa and Lucia to come late. It would have 
 wearied them, he reflected, to assist at the endless 
 fitting and screwing of the joints, and they would have 
 .had no impression of the whole until they were tired 
 of looking at the details. 
 
 For hours he laboured with the men, not allowing 
 anything to be done without his supervision, and doing 
 more himself than any of the workmen. He grew hot 
 and interested as the time went on, and he began to 
 doubt whether the work could be finished before sunset. 
 The workmen themselves, who preferred a job of this 
 kind to the regular occupation of the studio, seemed in 
 
 p 
 
210 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. X 
 
 no hurry, though they did what was expected of them 
 quietly and methodically. Each one of them was 
 calculating, as nearly as possible, the length of time 
 needed to drive a screw, to lift a piece into position, to 
 finish off a shank till it fitted closely in the prepared 
 socket. Half an hour wasted by driblets to-day, would 
 ensure them for the morrow the diversion of an hour 
 or two in coming to the church and returning from it. 
 
 From time to time Gianbattista glanced towards 
 the door, and as the hours advanced his look took the 
 same direction more often. At last, as the rays of the 
 evening sun fell through the western window, he heard 
 steps, and was presently rewarded by the appearance 
 of the Signora Pandolfi, followed closely by Lucia. 
 They greeted Gianbattista from a distance, for the 
 church being under repairs was closed to the public, 
 and had not been in use for years, so that the sound 
 of voices did not seem unnatural nor irreverent. 
 
 " It is not finished," said Gianbattista, coming for- 
 ward to meet them ; " but you can see what it will be 
 like. Another hour will be enough." 
 
 At that moment Don Paolo suddenly appeared, 
 walking fast up the aisle in pursuit of the two 
 women. They all greeted him with an exclamation 
 of surprise. 
 
 " Eh ! " he exclaimed, " you are astonished to see 
 "me ? I was passing and saw you go in, and as I knew 
 
chap. X MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX '211 
 
 about the grating, I guessed what you came for and 
 followed you. Is Marzio here?" 
 
 " No," answered Gianbattista. "He said lie might 
 perhaps come, but I doubt it. I fancy lie wants to Le 
 alone." 
 
 " Yes," replied Don Paolo thoughtfully, " I daresay 
 he wants to be alone." 
 
 " He has had a good many emotions to-day," re- 
 marked Gianbattista. " We shall see how he will be 
 this evening. Of course, you have heard the news, 
 Don Paolo ? Besides, you see I am at work, so that 
 the first great difference has been settled. Lucia 
 managed it — she has an eloquence, that young lady ! 
 She could preach better than you, Don Paolo." 
 
 " She is a little angel," exclaimed the priest, tapping 
 his niece's dark cheek with his white hand. 
 
 " That is four to-day ! " cried Lucia, laughing. " First 
 mamma, then papa — -figure to yourself papa ! — then 
 Tista, and now Uncle Paolo. Eh ! if the wings don't 
 grow before the Ave Maria " 
 
 She broke off with a pretty motion of her shoulders, 
 showing her white teeth and turning to look at Gian- 
 battista. Then the young man took them to see the 
 grating. A good portion of it was put up, and it pro- 
 duced a good effect. The whole thing was about ten 
 or twelve feet high, consisting of widely-set gilt bars, 
 between which were fastened large arabesques and 
 
212 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. X 
 
 scrolls. On each side of the gate, in the middle, an 
 angel supported a metal drapery, of which the folds 
 were in reality of separate pieces, but which, as it now 
 appeared, all screwed together in its place, had a very 
 free and light effect. It was work of a conventional 
 kind and of a conventional school, but even here 
 Marzio's great talent had shown itself in his rare 
 knowledge of effects and free modelling; the high 
 lights were carefully chosen and followed out, and the 
 deep shadows of the folds in dull gold gave a richness 
 to the drapery not often found in this species of decora- 
 tion. The figures of the angels, too, were done by an 
 artist's hand — conventional, like the rest, but free from 
 heaviness or anatomical defects. 
 
 " It is not bad," said Don Paolo, in a tone which 
 surprised every one. He was not often slow to praise 
 his brother's work. 
 
 " How, not bad ? Is that all you say ? " asked 
 Gianbattista, in considerable astonishment. He felt, 
 too, that as Marzio and he worked together, he deserved 
 some part of the credit. " It is church decoration of 
 course, and not a ' piece,' as we say, but I would like 
 to see anybody do better." 
 
 " Well, well, Tista, forgive me," he answered. " The 
 fact is, Marzio showed me something to-day so wonder- 
 ful, that I see- no beauty in anything else — or, at least, 
 not so much beauty as I ought to see. I went in to 
 
chap, x MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 213 
 
 find him again, you know, just as Lucia was leaving, 
 and he showed me a crucifix — a marvel, a wonder ! — 
 he said he had had it a long time, put away in a box." 
 
 " I never saw it," said Tista. 
 
 " I did ! " exclaimed Lucia. She regretted the words 
 as soon as she. had spoken them, and bit her lip. She 
 had not told her mother what she had told Gianbattista. 
 
 "When did you see it ? Is it so very beautiful ?" 
 asked the Signbra Pandolfi. 
 
 " Oh, I only saw it through the door, when I went," 
 she answered quickly. " The door was open, but I 
 knocked and I saw him hide it. But I think it was 
 very fine — splendid ! What did you talk about, Uncle 
 Paolo ? You have not told us about your visit. I 
 whispered to you that everything was settled, but you 
 looked as though you did not understand. What did 
 you say to each other ?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing — -nothing of any importance," said 
 Don Paolo in some embarrassment. He suddenly 
 recollected that, owing to his brother's strange conduct, 
 he had left the studio without saying a word about the 
 errand which had brought him. " Nothing," he re- 
 peated. " We talked about the crucifix, and Marzio 
 gave a very long, explanation of the way it was made. 
 Besides, as Liicia says, she had told me that everything 
 was settled, and Marzio spoke very quietly." 
 
 This was literally true. Marzio's words had been 
 
214 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, x 
 
 gentle enough. It was his action that had at first 
 startled Don Paolo, and had afterwards set him thinking 
 and reflecting on the events of those few minutes. But 
 he would not for anything in the world have allowed 
 any of his three companions to know what had 
 happened. He was himself not sure. Marzio had 
 excused the position of his hand by saying that the 
 sun was in his eyes. There was something else in his 
 eyes, thought Paolo ; a look of hatred and of eager 
 desire for blood which it was horrible to remember. 
 Perhaps he ought not to remember it, for he might be 
 mistaken after all, and it was a great sin to suspect 
 any one of wishing to commit such a crime ; but never- 
 theless, and in spite of his desire that it might not 
 have been true, Don Paolo was conscious of having 
 received the impression, and he was sure that it had 
 not been the result of any foolish fright. He was not 
 a cowardly man, and although his physical courage 
 had rarely been put to the test, no one who knew him 
 would have charged him with the contemptible timidity 
 which imagines danger gratuitously, and is afraid 
 where no fear is. He was of a better temper than 
 Marzio, who had been startled so terribly by a slight 
 noise when his back was turned. And yet he had 
 been profoundly affected by the scene of the morning, 
 and had not yet entirely recovered his serenity. 
 
 Lucia noticed the tone of his answer, and suspected 
 
CHAP. X MARZIO'S CItUClFIX 21 fe 
 
 that something had happened, though her suspicion 
 took a direction exactly opposed to the fact. She 
 remembered what she had seen herself, and recalling 
 the fact that Paolo had entered the workshop just as 
 she was leaving it, she saw nothing unnatural in the 
 supposition that her father's conversation with her 
 uncle had taken a religious tone. She used the word 
 religion to express to herself what she meaut. She 
 thought it quite possible that after Marzio had been so 
 suddenly softened, and evidently affected, by her own 
 •fainting fit, and after having been absorbed in some 
 sort of devotional meditation, he might have spoken of 
 his feelings to Don Paolo, who in his turn would have 
 seized the opportunity for working upon his brother's 
 mind. Paolo, she thought, would naturally not care 
 to speak lightly of such an occurrence, and his some- 
 what constrained manner at the present moment might 
 be attributed to this cause. To prevent any further 
 questions from her mother or Gianbattista, Lucia inter- 
 posed. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " he seemed very quiet. He hardly 
 spoke at dinner. But Tista says he may perhaps be 
 here before long, and then we shall know." 
 
 It was not very clear what was to be known, and 
 Lucia hastened to direct their attention to the new 
 grating. Gianbattista returned to work with the men, 
 and the two women and Don Paolo stood looking on, 
 
216 MAEZip'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, x 
 
 occasionally shifting their position to get a better view 
 of the work. Gianbattista was mounted upon a ladder 
 which leaned against one of the marble pillars at the 
 entrance of the side chapel closed by the grating A 
 heavy piece of arabesque work had just been got into 
 its place, and was tied with cords while the young man 
 ran a screw through the prepared holes to fasten one 
 side of the fragment to the bar. He was awkwardly 
 placed, but he had sent the men to uncover and clean 
 the last pieces, at a little distance from where he was 
 at work. The three visitors observed him with interest, 
 probably remarking to themselves that it must need 
 good nerves to maintain one's self in such a position. 
 Don Paolo, especially, was more nervous than the rest, 
 owing, perhaps, to what had occurred in the morning 
 All at once, as he watched Gianbattista's twisted atti- 
 tude, as the apprentice strained himself and turned so 
 as to drive the screw effectually, the foot of the ladder 
 .seemed to move a little on the smooth marble pave- 
 ment. With a quick movement Don Paolo stepped 
 •forward, with the intention of grasping the ladder. ■ 
 
 Hearing the sound of rapid steps, Gianbattista 
 turned his head and a part of his body to see what 
 had happened. The sudden movement shifted the 
 weight, and definitely destroyed the balance of the 
 ladder. With a sharp screech, like that of a bad pencil 
 scratching on a slate, the lower ends of the uprights 
 
chap, x MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 217 
 
 slipped outward from the pillar. Gianbattista clutched 
 at the metal bars desperately, but the long screw-driver 
 in his hands impeded him, and he missed his hold. 
 
 Don Paolo, the sound of whose step hacl at first 
 made the young man turn, and had thus probably pre- 
 cipitated the accident,, sprang forward, threw himself 
 under the falling ladder, and grasped it with all his- 
 might. But it was too late. Gianbattista was heavy, 
 and the whole ladder with his weight upon it had ; 
 gained too much impetus to- be easily stopped by one 
 man. "With a loud crash he fell with the wooden 
 frame upon the smooth marble floor. Soiling to one 
 side, Gianbattista leapt to his feet, dazed but apparently 
 unhurt. 
 
 The priest lay motionless in a distorted position 
 under the ladder, his head bent almost beneath his 
 body, and one arm projecting upon the pavement/ 
 seemingly twisted in its socket, the palm upwards. 
 The long white fingers twitched convulsively once or 
 twice, and then were still. It was all the affair of a 
 moment. Maria Luisa screamed and leaned against 
 the pillar for support, while Lucia ran forward and 
 knelt beside the injured man. Gianbattista, whose life 
 had probably been saved by Don Paolo's quick action, 
 was dragging away the great ladder, and the workmen 
 came running up in confusion to see what had happened. 
 
 It seemed as though- Marzio's wish had been accom- 
 
21 8 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX ■ CHAr. x , 
 
 plished without his agency. A deadly livid colour 
 overspread the priest's refined features, and as they 
 lifted him his limp limbs hung down as though the 
 vitality would never return to them — all except the 
 left arm, which was turned stiffly out and seemed to 
 refuse to hang down with the rest. It was dislocated 
 at the shoulder. 
 
 A scene of indescribable confusion followed, in which 
 Gianbattista alone seemed to maintain some semblance 
 of coolness. The rest all spoke and cried at once. 
 Maria Luisa and Lucia knelt beside the body where 
 they had laid it on the steps of the high altar, crying 
 aloud, kissing the white hands and beating their 
 breasts, praying, sobbing, and calling upon Paolo ta 
 speak to them, all in a breath. 
 
 " He is dead as a stone," said one of the workmen 
 in a low voice. 
 
 " Eh ! He is in Paradise," said another, kneeling at 
 the priest's feet and rubbing them. 
 
 " Take him to the hospital, Sor Tista " 
 
 " Better take him home " 
 
 " I will run and call Sor Marzio " 
 
 " There is an apothecary in the next street." 
 " A doctor is better — apothecaries are all murderers." 
 Gianbattista, very pale, but collected and steady, 
 pushed the men gently away from the body. 
 
 " Cari mici, my dear fellows/' he said, "he maybe 
 
chap, x MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX .219 
 
 alive. One of you run and get a carriage to the side 
 door of the sacristy. The rest of you put the things 
 together and be careful to leave nothing where it can 
 fall. We will take him to Sor Marzio's house and get 
 the best doctor." 
 
 "There is not even a drop of holy water in the 
 basins," moaned Maria Luisa. 
 
 " He will go to Heaven without holy water," sobbed 
 Lucia. " Oh, how good he was " i 
 
 Gianbattista kneeled down in his turn and tried 
 to find the pulse in the poor limp wrist. Then he," 
 listened for the heart. He fancied he could hear a 
 faint flutter in the breast. He looked up and a little, 
 colour came to his pale face. 
 
 " I think he is alive," he said to the two women, and 
 then bent down again and listened. " Yes," he continued 
 joyfully. "The heart beats. Gently — help me to 
 carry him to the sacristy; get his hat one of you. So, 
 — carefully— do not twist that arm. I think I see 
 colour in his cheeks " 
 
 With four other men Gianbattista raised the body, 
 and bore it carefully to the sacristy. The cab was 
 already at the door, and in a few minutes poor Don 
 Paolo was placed in it. The hood was raised, and 
 Maria Luisa got in and sat supporting the drooping 
 head upon her -broad bosom. Lucia took the little Seat 
 in front, and Gianbattista mounted to the box, after 
 
220 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP, x 
 
 directing the four men to follow in a second cab as fast 
 as they could, to help to carry the priest upstairs. He 
 sent another in search of a surgeon. 
 • " Do not tell Sor Marzio — do not go to the work- 
 shop," he said in a last injunction. He knew that 
 Marzio would be of no use in such an emergency, and 
 he hoped that Don Taolo might be pronounced out of 
 danger before the chiseller knew anything of the 
 accident. 
 
 In half an hour the injured man was lying in Gian- 
 battista's bed. It was now evident that he was alive, 
 for he breathed heavily and regularly. But the half- 
 closed eyes had no intelligence in them, and the slight 
 flush in the hollow cheeks was not natural to see. 
 The twisted arm still stuck out of the bed-coverings 
 in a painfully distorted attitude. The two women and 
 Gianbattista stood by the bedside in silence, waiting for 
 the arrival of the surgeon. 
 
 He came at last, a quiet-looking man of middle age, 
 with grizzled hair and a face deeply pitted with the 
 smallpox. He seemed to know what he was about, 
 for he asked for a. detailed account of the accident from 
 Gianbattista while he examined the patient. The young 
 man, who was beginning to feel the effects, of the fall, 
 now that the first excitement had subsided, sat dowu 
 while he toid the story. The surgeon urged the two 
 women to leave the room. 
 
chap, x MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 221 
 
 " The left arm is dislocated at the shoulder, without 
 fracture," said the surgeon. " Lend me a hand, will 
 you ? Hold his body firmly — here and here — with all 
 your might, while I pull the joint into place. If his 
 head or spine are not injured the pain may bring him 
 to consciousness. That will be a good thing. Now, 
 ready — one, two, three, pull !" 
 
 The two men gave a vigorous jerk, and to Gianbat- 
 tista's surprise the arm fell back in a natural position, 
 but the injured priest's features expressed no pain. 
 He was evidently quite unconscious. A further ex- 
 amination led the surgeon to believe that the harm was 
 more serious. There was a bad bruise on one side of 
 the head, and more than one upon other parts of the 
 body. 
 
 " "Will he live ?" asked Gianbattista faintly, as he 
 sank back into his chair. 
 
 " Oh yes — probably. He is likely to have a brain 
 fever. One cannot tell. How old is he ?" 
 
 He asked one or two other questions, arranging the 
 patient's position with skilful hands while he talked. 
 Then he asked for paper and wrote a prescription. 
 
 " Nothing more can be done for the present," he 
 said. " You should put some ice on his head, and if 
 he recovers consciousness, so as to speak before I come 
 back, observe what he says. He may be in a delirium, 
 or he may talk quite rationally. Oue cannot telL 
 
222 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, x 
 
 Send for this medicine and give it to him if he is 
 conscious. Otherwise, only keep his head cool. I 
 will come back early in the evening. You are not 
 hurt yourself?" he inquired, looking at Gianbattista 
 curiously. 
 
 " No ; I am badly shaken, and my hands are a little 
 cut — that is all," answered the young man. 
 
 "What a beautiful thing youth is!" observed the 
 surgeon philosophically, as he went away. 
 
 Gianbattista remained alone in the sick-room, seated 
 upon his chair by the head of the bed. With anxious 
 interest and attention he watched the expressionless 
 face as the heavy breath came and went between the 
 parted lips. In the distance he could hear the sobbing 
 and incoherent talk of the two women, as the doctor 
 explained to them Paolo's condition, but he was now 
 too much dazed to give any thought to them. It 
 seemed to him that Don Paolo had sacrificed his life 
 for him, and that he had no other duty than to sit 
 beside the bed and watch his friend. All the impres- 
 sions of the afternoon were very much confused, and 
 the shock of the fall had told upon his nerves far more 
 severely than he had at first realised. His limbs 
 ached and his hands pained him ; at the same time 
 he felt dizzy, and the outline of Don Paolo's iace grew 
 indistinct as he watched it. He was roused by the 
 entry of Lucia, who had hastily laid aside her hat. 
 
CHAP. X JIAKZIO'3 CRUCIFIX 223 
 
 Her face was pale, and her dark eyes were swollen 
 with tears ; her liair was in disorder and was falling 
 about her neck. Gianbattista instinctively rose and 
 put his arm about the girl's waist as they stood to- 
 gether and looked at the sick man. He felt that it 
 was his duty to comfort her. 
 
 " The doctor thinks he may get well," he said. 
 
 " Who knows," she answered tearfully, and shook 
 her head, " Oh, Tista, he was our best friend !" 
 
 " It was in trying to save me " said the young 
 
 fellow. But he got no further. The words stuck in 
 his throat. 
 
 " If he lives I will be a son to him !" he added 
 presently. " I will never leave him. But perhaps — 
 perhaps he is too good to live, Lucia !" 
 
 " He must not die. I will take care of him," an- 
 swered Lucia. " You must pray for him, Tista, and I 
 will — -we all will !" 
 
 " Eh ! I will try, but I don't understand that kind 
 of thing as well as you," said Gianbattista dolefully. 
 " If you think it is of any use " 
 
 " Of course it is of use, my heart ; do not doubt it," 
 replied the young girl gravely. Then her features 
 suddenly quivered, she turned away, and, hiding her 
 fice on the pillow beside the priest's unconscious 
 head, she sobbed as though her .heart would 
 break. Gianbattista' knelt down at her side and 
 
224 MAEZIO'S CKUCIF1X CHAF. X 
 
 put his arm round her neck, whispering lovingly in 
 her ear. 
 
 The day was fading, and the last glow of the sun in 
 the south-western sky came through the small window 
 at the other end of the narrow room, illuminating the 
 simple furniture, the white hed coverings, the upturned 
 face of the injured man, and the two young figures 
 that knelt at the bedside. It was Gianbattista's room, 
 and there was little enough in it. The bare bricks, 
 with only a narrow bit of green drugget by the bed, 
 the plain deal table before the window, the tiny round 
 mirror set in lead, at which the apprentice shaved 
 himself, the crazy old chest of drawers — that was all. 
 The whitewashed walls were relieved by two or three 
 drawings of chalices and other church vessels, the 
 colour of the gold or silver, and of the gems, washed 
 into one half of the design and the other side left in 
 black and white. A little black cross hung above the 
 bedstead, with a bit of au olive branch nailed over it 
 — a reminiscence of the last Palm Sunday. There 
 were two nails in another part of the room, on which 
 some old clothes were hung — that was all. But the 
 deep light of the failing day shed a peaceful halo over 
 everything, and touched the coarse details of a hard- 
 working existence with the divine light of Heaven. 
 
 Lucia's sobbing ceased after a while, and, as the 
 sunset faded into twilight and dusk, the silence grew 
 
CHAP, x MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 225 
 
 more profound ; the sick man's breathing became 
 lighter, as though in his unconsciousness he were 
 beginning to rest after the day in which he had 
 endured so nrach. From the sitting-room beyond 
 the short passage the sound of Maria Luisa's voice, 
 moaning in concert with old Assunta, gradually 
 diminished till they were heard only at intervals, 
 and at last ceased altogether. The household of Marzio 
 Pandolfi was hushed in the presence of a great sorrow, 
 and awed by the anticipation of a great misfortune. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 Marzio, in ignorance of all that was happening at the 
 church, continued to work in the solitude of his studio, 
 and the current of his thoughts flowed on. in the same 
 channel. He tried to force his attention upon the 
 details of the design he meditated against his brother's 
 life, and for some time he succeeded. But another 
 influence had begun to work upon his brain, since the 
 moment when he had been frightened by the sound 
 behind him while he was examining the hole beneath 
 the strong box. He would not own to himself that 
 such a senseless fear could have produced a permanent 
 impression on him, and yet he felt disturbed and un- 
 settled, unaccountably discomposed, and altogether un- 
 comfortable. He could not help looking round from 
 time to time at the door, and more than once his eyes 
 rested for several seconds upon the safe, while a slight 
 shiver ran through his body and seemed to chill his 
 fingers. 
 
 But he worked on in spite of all this. The habit of. 
 the chisel was not to be destroyed by the fancied scare 
 
chap, xi MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 227 
 
 of a moment, and though his eyes wandered now and 
 then, they came back to the silver statue as keen as 
 ever. A little touch with the steel at one point, a 
 little burnishing at another, the accentuation of a line, 
 the deepening of a shadow — he studied every detail 
 with a minute and scrupulous care which betrayed his 
 love for the work he was doing. 
 
 And yet the uneasiness grew upon him. He felt 
 somehow as though Paolo were present in the room 
 with him, watching him over his shoulder, suggesting 
 improvements to be made, in that voice of his wliich 
 now rang distinctly in the artist's ear. His imagina- 
 tion woiked morbidly, and he thought of Paolo stand- 
 ing beside him, ordering him to do this or that against 
 his will, until he began to doubt his own judgment in 
 regard to what he was doing. He wondered whether 
 he should feel the same thing when Paolo was dead. 
 Again he looked behind him, and the idea that he was 
 not alone gained force. Nevertheless the room was 
 bright, brighter indeed in the afternoon than it ever 
 was in the morning, for the window was towards the 
 south, and though the first rays of the sun reached it 
 at about eleven in the morning, the buildings after- 
 wards darkened it again until the sun was in the west. 
 Moreover to-day, the weather had been changeable, 
 and it had rained a little about noon. Now the air 
 was again clear, and the workshop was lit up so that 
 
228 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, xi 
 
 the light penetrated even to the ancient cobwebs in 
 the corners, and touched the wax models and casts en 
 the shelves, and gilded the old wood of the door oppo- 
 site with rich brown gold. Marzio had a curtain of 
 dusty grey linen which he drew across the lower part 
 of the window to keep the sunshine off his work. 
 
 He was impatient with himself, and annoyed by the 
 persistency of the impression that Paolo was in some 
 way present in the place. As though to escape from 
 it by braving it he set himself resolutely to consider 
 the expediency of destroying his brother. The first 
 quick impulse in the morning had developed to a 
 purpose in the afternoon. He had constructed the 
 probable occurrences out of the materials of his imagin- 
 ation, and had done it so vividly as to frighten himself. 
 The fright had in some measure cooled his intention, 
 and had been now replaced by a new element in his 
 thoughts, by the apprehension for the future if the 
 deed were accomplished. He began to speculate upon 
 what would happen afterwards, wondering whether by 
 any means the murder could be discovered, and if in 
 that case it could ever be traced to him. 
 
 At the, first faint suggestion that such a thing as lie 
 Avas devising could possibly have another issue than 
 he had supposed, Marziq felt a cold sensation in his 
 heart, and his thoughts took a different direction. It 
 was all simple enough. To get Paolq into, ^e work- 
 
chap. XI MAKZIO'S CEUCIFIX" 229 
 
 shop alone — a. blow — the concealment of the dead 
 body until night — then the short three hundred yards 
 with the hand-cart — it seemed very practicable. Yes, 
 but if by any chance he should meet a policeman under 
 •those low trees in the Piazza de' Branca, what would 
 happen ? A man with a hand-cart, and with some- 
 thing shapeless upon the hand- cart, in the dark, hurry- 
 ing towards the river — such a man would excite the 
 suspicions of a policeman. Marzio might be stopped 
 and asked what he was taking away. Ho would 
 answer — what would he answer in such a case ? The 
 •hand-cart would be examined and found to contain a 
 dead priest. Besides, he reflected that the wheels 
 would make a terrible clatter in the silent streets at 
 night. Of course he might go out and walk down to 
 the river first and see if there was anybody in the way, 
 but even then he could not be sure of finding no one 
 when he returned with his burden. 
 
 But there was the cellar, after all. He could go 
 down in the night and bury his brother's body there. 
 No one ever went down, not even he himself. Who 
 would suspect the place 1 It would be a ghastly job, 
 the chiseller thought. He fancied how it would be in 
 the cold, damp vault with a lantern — the white face of 
 the murdered man. No, he shrank from thinking of it. 
 It was too horrible to be thought of until it should be 
 absolutely necessary. But the place was a good one. 
 
230 maezio's crucifix; chap. XI 
 
 And then when Paolo was buried deep under the 
 damp stones, who would be the first to ask for him ? 
 For two or three days no one would be much surprised 
 if he did not come to the house. Marzio would say 
 that he had met him in the street, and that Paolo had ex- 
 cused himself for not coming, on the ground of extreme 
 pressure of work. But the Cardinal, whom he served 
 as secretary, would ask for the missing man. He 
 would be the first. The Cardinal would be told that 
 Paolo had not slept at home, in his lodging high up 
 in the old palace, and he would send at once to 
 Marzio's house to know where his secretary was. 
 Well, he might send, Marzio would answer that he did 
 not know, and the matter would end there. 
 
 It would be hard to sit calmly at the bench all day 
 with Gianbattista at his side. He would probahly 
 look very often at the iron-bound box. Gianbattista 
 would notice that, and in time he would grow curious, 
 and perhaps explore the cellar. It would be a miser- 
 able ending to such a drama to betray himself by his 
 own weakness after it was all done, and Paolo was 
 gone for ever — a termination unworthy of Marzio, the 
 strong-minded freethinker. To kill a priest, and then 
 be as nervous and conscious as a boy in a scrape ! 
 The chiseller tried to laugh aloud in his old way, but 
 the effort was ineffectual, and ended in a painful twist- 
 ing of the lips, accompanied by a glance at the corner. 
 
chap. XI MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 231 
 
 It would not do ; he was weak, and was forced to 
 submit to the humiliation of acknowledging the fact 
 to himself. With a bitter scorn of his incapacity, he 
 began to wonder whether he could ever get so far as 
 to kill Paolo in the first instance. He foresaw that if 
 he did kill him, he could never get rid of him after- 
 wards. 
 
 Where do people go when they die ? The question 
 rose suddenly in the mind of the unbeliever, and 
 seemed to demand an answer. He had answered 
 often enough over a pint of wine at the inn, with 
 Gasparo Carnesecchi the lawyer and the rest of his 
 friends. Nowhere. That was the answer, clear enough. 
 When a man dies he goes to the ground, as a slaughtered 
 ox to the butcher's stall, or a dead horse to the 
 knacker's. That is the end of him, and it is of no use 
 asking any more questions. You might as well ask what 
 becomes of the pins that are lost by myriads of millions, 
 to the weight of many tons in a year. You might as 
 well inquire what becomes of anything that is old, or 
 worn out, or broken. A man is like anything else, 
 an agglomeration of matter, capable of a few more 
 tricks than a monkey, and capable of a few less than 
 a priest. He dies, and is swallowed up by the earth 
 and gives no more trouble. These were the answers 
 Marzio was accustomed to give to the question, 
 " Where do people go to when they die ? " Hitherto 
 
232 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX *JHAP. xi 
 
 they had satisfied him, as they appear to satisfy a very 
 small minority of idiots. 
 
 But what would become of Paolo when Marzio had 
 killed him ? Well, in time Lis body would become 
 earth, that was all. There was something else, how- 
 ever. Marzio was conscious to certainty that Paolo 
 would in some way or other be at his elbow ever 
 afterwards, just as he seemed to feel his presence this 
 afternoon in the workshop. What sort of presence 
 would it be ? Marzio could not tell, but he knew he 
 should feel it. It did not matter whether it were real 
 to others or not, it would be too real to him. He 
 could never get rid of the sensation ; it would haunt 
 him and oppress him for the rest of his life, and he 
 should have no peace. 
 
 How could it, if it were not a real thing ? Even 
 the priests said that the spirits of dead men did not 
 come back to earth ; how much more impossible must 
 it be in Marzio's view, since he denied that man had a 
 soul. It would then only be the effect of his imagina- 
 tion recalling constantly the past deed, and a thing 
 •which only existed in imagination did not exist at all. 
 If it did not exist, it could not be feared by a sensible 
 man. Consequently there was nothing to fear. 
 
 The conclusion contradicted the given facts from 
 which he had argued, and the chiseller was puzzled. 
 Jor the first time his method of reasoning did not 
 
chap. XI MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 233 
 
 satisfy him, and he tried to find out the cause. Was 
 it, he asked to himself, because there lingered in his 
 mind some early tradition of the wickedness of doing 
 murder ? Since there was no soul, there was no 
 absolute right and wrong, and everything must be 
 decided by the standard of expediency. It was a 
 mistake to allow people to murder each other openly, 
 of course, because people of less intellectual capacity 
 would take upon themselves to judge such cases in 
 their own way. But provided that public morality, the 
 darling of the real freethinker, were not scandalised, 
 there would be no inherent wrong in doing away 
 with Paolo. On the contrary, bis death would be a 
 benefit to the community at large, and an advantage 
 to Marzio in particular. Not a pecuniary advantage 
 either, for in Marzio's strange system there would have 
 been an immorality in murdering Paolo for his money 
 if he had ever had any, though it seemed right enough 
 to kill him for an idea. That is, to a great extent, 
 tbe code of those persons who believe in nothing but 
 what they call great ideas. The individuals who 
 murdered tbe Czar would doubtless have scrupled to 
 rob a gentleman in the street of ten francs. The same 
 reasoning developed itself in Marzio's brain. If his 
 brother had been rich, it would have been a crime to 
 murder him for his wealth. It was no crime to murder 
 him for an idea. Marzio said to himself that to get 
 
234 MABZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, xi 
 
 rid of Paolo would be to emancipate himself and his 
 family from the rule and interference of a priest, and 
 that such a proceeding was only the illustration on 
 a small scale of what lie desired for Lis country ; 
 consequently it was just, and therefore it ought to 
 be done. 
 
 Unfortunately for Lis logic, the continuity of his 
 deductions was blocked by a consideration which he 
 had not anticipated. That consideration could only be 
 described as fear for the future, and it had been forcibly 
 thrust upon him by the fright he had received while 
 he was examining the hole in the floor. In order to 
 neutralise it, Marzio had tried the experiment of 
 braving what he considered to be a momentary terror 
 by obstinately studying the details of the plan he 
 intended to execute. To his surprise he found that he 
 returned to the same conclusion as before. He came 
 back to that unaccountable fear of the future as surely 
 as a body thrown upwards falls again to the earth. 
 He went over it all in his mind again, twice, three 
 times, twenty times. As often as he reached the stage 
 at which he imagined Paolo dead; hidden, and buried 
 in a cellar, the same shiver passed through him as 
 he glanced involuntarily behind him. Why ? What 
 power could a dead body possibly exercise over a living 
 man in the full possession of his senses ? 
 
 Here was something which Marzio could not under- 
 
chap, xi MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 235 
 
 stand, but of which he was made aware by his own 
 feelings. The difficulty only increased in magnitude 
 as he faced it, considered it, and tried to view it from all 
 its horrible aspects. But he could not overcome it. 
 He might laugh at the existence of the soul and jest 
 about the future state after death ; he could not escape 
 from the future in this life if he did the deed he con- 
 templated. He should see the dead man's face by day 
 and night as long as he lived. 
 
 This forced conclusion was in logical accordance 
 with his original nature and developed character, for 
 it was the result of that economical, cautious disposition 
 which foresees the consequences of action and guides 
 itself accordingly. Even in the moment when he had 
 nearly killed Paolo that morning he had not been free 
 from this tendency. In the instant when, he had 
 raised the tool to strike he had thought of the means 
 of disposing of the body and of hindering suspicion. 
 The panorama of coming circumstances had presented 
 itself to his mind with the rapidity of a flash of light- 
 ning, but in that infinitesimal duration of time Paolo 
 had turned round, and the opportunity was gone. His 
 mind had worked quickly, but it had not gone to the 
 end of its reasoning. Now in the solitude of his 
 studio he had found leisure to follow out the results 
 to the last link of the chain. He saw clearly that 
 even if he eluded discovery after the crime, he could 
 
236 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, xi 
 
 never escape from the horror of his dead brother's 
 presence. 
 
 He laid the silver figure of the Christ straight 
 before him upon the leathern pad, and looked intently 
 at it, while his hands. played idly with the tools upon 
 the table. His deep-set, heavy eyes gazed fixedly at 
 the wonderful face, with an expression which had not 
 yet been there. There was no longer any smile upon, 
 his thin lips, and his dark emaciated features were 
 restful and quiet, almost solemn in their repose. 
 
 " I am glad I did not do it," he said aloud after, 
 some minutes. 
 
 Still he gazed at his work, and the impression stole 
 over him that but for a slight thing he might yet have 
 killed his brother. If he had left the figure more 
 securely propped upon the pad, it could not have 
 slipped upon the bench ; it could not have made that 
 small distinct sound just as he was examining the 
 place which was to have been his brother's grave ; he 
 would not have been suddenly frightened ; he would 
 not have gone over the matter in his mind as he had 
 done, from the point of view of a future fear; he 
 would have waited anxiously for another opportunity, 
 and when it presented itself he would have struck the 
 blow, and Paolo would have been dead, if not to-day, 
 to-morrow. There would have been a search which 
 might or might not have resulted in the discovery of 
 
CHAP. XI MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX 237 
 
 the body. Then there would have been the heart- 
 rending grief of his wife, of Lucia, and the black 
 suspicious looks of Gianbattista. The young man had 
 heard him express a wish that Paolo might disappear. 
 His home would have been a hell, instead of being 
 emancipated from tyranny as be had at first imagined. 
 Discovery and conviction would have come at last, the 
 galleys for life for himself, dishonour and contempt for 
 his family. 
 
 He remembered Paolo's words as he stood contem- 
 plating the crucifix just before that moment which had 
 nearly been his last. Qui propter rws homines et propter 
 nostram salutem — " Who for us men and for our sal- 
 vation came down from Heaven." In a strange revul- 
 sion of feeling Marzio applied the words to himself, 
 with an odd simplicity that was at once pathetic and 
 startling. 
 
 " If Christ had not died," he said to himself, " I 
 should not have made this crucifix. If I had not 
 made it, it would not have frightened me. I should 
 have killed my brother. It has saved me. ' For us 
 men and for our salvation ' — those are the words — for 
 my salvation, it is very strange. Poor Paolo ! If he 
 knew to what he owed his life he would be pleased. 
 Who can believe such things ? Who would have 
 believed this if I had told it ? And yet it is true." 
 
 For some minutes still he gazed at the figure. Then 
 
238 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. XI 
 
 lie shook himself as though to rouse his mind from a 
 trance, and took up his tools. He did not glance 
 behind him again, and, for the time at least, Lis 
 nervous dislike of the box in the corner seemed to 
 have ceased. He laboured with patient care, touching 
 and re-touching, believing that each tap of the hammer 
 should be the last, and yet not wholly satisfied. 
 
 The light waned, and he took down the curtain to 
 admit the last glows of the evening. He co.uld do no 
 more, art itself could have done no more to beautify 
 and perfect the masterpiece that lay upon the cushion 
 before him. The many hours he had spent in putting 
 the last finish upon the work had produced their result. 
 His hand had imparted something to the features of 
 the dying head which had not been there before, and 
 as he stood over the bench he knew that he had sur- 
 passed his greatest work. He went and fetched the 
 black cross from the shelf, and polished its smooth 
 surface carefully with a piece of silk. Then he took 
 the figure tenderly in his hands and laid it iu its 
 position. The small screws turned evenly in the 
 threads, fitting closely into their well-concealed places, 
 and the work was finished. Marzio placed the whole 
 crucifix upon the bench and sat down to look at it. 
 
 It made a strong impression upon him, this thing of 
 his own hands, and again he remained a long time 
 resting his chin upon his folded iingers and gazing. up 
 
chap, xi MAIIZIO'S CRCCIF.'X 2.°> 9 
 
 at the drooping lids. The shadows lay softly on the 
 modelled silver, so softly that the metal itself seemed 
 to tremble and move, and in his reverie Marzio could 
 almost have expected the divine eyes to open and look 
 into- his face. And gradually the shadows deepened 
 more and more, and gathered into gloom till in the 
 dark the black arms of the cross searcely stood out 
 from the darkness, and in the last lingering twilight 
 he could see only the clear outline of the white head 
 and outstretched hands, that seemed to emit a soft 
 radiance gathered from the brightness of the departed 
 day. 
 
 Marzio struck a match and lit his lamp. His 
 thoughts were so wholly absorbed that he had not 
 remembered the workmen, nor wondered why they 
 had not come back. After all, most of them lived in 
 the direction of the church, and if tliey had finished 
 their work late they would very probably go home 
 without returning to the shop. The chiseller wrapped 
 the crucifix in the old white cloth, and laid it in its 
 plain wooden box, but he did not screw the cover 
 down, merely putting it on loosely so that it could be 
 -removed. in a moment. He laid his tools in order, 
 mechanically, as he did every evening, and then he 
 extinguished the light and made his way to the door, 
 carrying the box under his arm. 
 
 The boy who alone had remained at work had 
 
240 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX Chap, xi 
 
 lighted a tallow candle, and was sitting dangling his 
 heels from his stool as Marzio came out. 
 
 " Still here ! " exclaimed the artist. 
 
 " Eh ! You did not tell me to go," answered the 
 lad. 
 
 Marzio locked the heavy outer door and crossed 
 over to his house, while the hoy went whistling down 
 the street in the dusk. Slowly the artist mounted the 
 stairs, pondering, as he went, on the many emotions of 
 the day, and at last repeating his conclusion, that he 
 was glad that he had not killed Paolo. 
 
 By a change of feeling which he did not wholly 
 realise, he felt for the first time in many years that he 
 would he glad to see his brother alive and well. He 
 had that day so often fancied him dead, lying on the 
 floor of the workshop, or buried in a dark corner of the 
 cellar, that the idea of meeting him, calm and well as 
 ever, had something refreshing in it. It was like the 
 waking from a hideous dream of evil to find that the 
 harm is still undone, to experience that sense of 
 unutterable relief which every one knows when the 
 dawn suddenly touches the outlines of familiar objects 
 in the room, and dispels in an instant the visions of 
 the night. 
 
 Paolo might not come that evening, but at least 
 Maria Luisa and Lucia would speak of him, and it 
 would be a comfort to hear his name spoken aloud. 
 
chap. XI MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 241 
 
 Marzio's step quickened with the thought, and in 
 another moment he was at the door. To his surprise 
 it was opened before he could ring, and old Assunta 
 came forward with her wrinkled fingers raised to her 
 lips. 
 
 "Hist! hist!" she whispered. "It goes a little 
 better — or at least " 
 
 " What ? Who 1 " asked Marzio, instinctively whis- 
 pering also. 
 
 " Eh ! You have not heard ? Don Paolo — they 
 have killed him ! " 
 
 " Paolo ! : ' exclaimed Marzio, staggering and leaning 
 against the door-post. 
 
 " He is not dead — not dead yet at least," went on 
 the old woman in low, excited tones. " He was in the 
 church with Tista — a ladder " 
 
 Marzio did not stop to hear more, but pushed past 
 Assunta with his burden under his arm, and entered 
 the passage. The door at the end was open, and he 
 saw his wife standing in the bright light in the sitting- 
 room, anxiously looking towards him as though she 
 had heard his coming. 
 
 " For God's sake, Gigia," he said, addressing her by 
 her old pet name, " tell me quickly what has hap- 
 pened ! " 
 
 The Signora Pandolfi explained as well as she could, 
 frequently giving way to her grief in passionate sobs. 
 
 K 
 
i^42 MARZIO'S CEUCIFIX chap, xi 
 
 She was incoherent, but tlie facts were so simple that 
 Marzio understood them. He was standing by the 
 table, his hand resting upon the wooden case he had 
 brought, and his face was very pale. 
 
 " Let me understand," he said at last. " Tista was 
 on the ladder. The ladder slipped, Paolo ran to catch 
 it, and it fell on him. He is badly hurt, but not 
 dead ; is that it, Gigia ? " 
 
 Maria Luisa nodded in the midst of a fit of weep- 
 ing. 
 
 " The surgeon has been, you say ? Yes. And where 
 is Paolo lying ? " 
 
 " In Tista's room," sobbed his wife. " They are with 
 him now." 
 
 Marzio stood still and hesitated. He was under the 
 influence of the most violent emotion, and his face 
 betrayed something of what he felt. The idea of 
 Paolo's death had played a tremendous part in his 
 thoughts during the whole day, and he had firmly 
 believed that he had got rid of that idea, and was to 
 realise in meeting his brother that it had all been a 
 dream. The news lie now heard filled him with horror. 
 It seemed as if the intense wish for Paolo's death had 
 in some way produced a material result without his 
 knowledge ; it was as though he had killed his brother 
 by a thought — as though he had had a real share in 
 his death. 
 
CHAP. XI MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX 243 
 
 He could hardly bear to go and see the wounded 
 man, so strong was the impression that gained posses- 
 sion of him. His fancy called up pictures of Paolo 
 lying wounded in bed, and he dreaded to face the sight. 
 He turned away from the table and began to walk up 
 and down the little room. In a corner his foot struck 
 against something — the drawing board on which he 
 had begun to sketch the night before. Marzio took it 
 up and brought it to the light. Maria Luisa stared at 
 him sorrowfully, as though reproaching him with in- 
 difference iu the general calamity. But Marzio looked 
 intently at the drawing. It was only a sketch, but it 
 was very beautifully done. He saw that his ideal was 
 still the same, and that upon the piece of paper he had 
 only reproduced the features he had chiselled ten years 
 ago, with an added beauty of expression, with just 
 those additions which to-day he had made upon the 
 original. The moment he was sure of the fact he laid 
 aside the board and opened the wooden case. 
 
 Maria Luisa, who was very far from guessing what 
 an intimate connection existed between the crucifix and 
 Paolo iu her husband's mind, looked on with increasing 
 astonishment as he took out the beautiful object and 
 set it upon the table in the light. But when she 
 saw it her admiration overcame her sorrow for one 
 moment. 
 
 " Bio mio I "What a miracle ! " she exclaimed. 
 
244 MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX CHAP. XI 
 
 " A miracle ? " repeated her husband, with a strange 
 expression. " Who knows ? Perhaps ! " 
 
 At that moment Gianbattista and Lucia entered 
 through the open door, and stood together watching 
 the scene without understanding what was passing. 
 The young girl recognised the crucifix at once. She 
 supposed that her father did not realise Paolo's con- 
 dition, and was merely showing the masterpiece to her 
 mother. 
 
 " That is the one I saw," she whispered to Gianbat- 
 tista. The. young man said nothing, but fixed his eyes 
 upon the cross. 
 
 " Papa," said Lucia timidly, " do you know ? " 
 
 " Yes. Is he alone ? " asked Marzio in a tone which 
 was not like his own. 
 
 " There is Assunta," answered the young girl. 
 
 " I will go to him," said the artist, and without 
 further words he lifted the crucifix from the table and 
 went out. His face was very grave, and his features 
 had something in them that none of the three had 
 seen before — something almost of grandeur. Gian- 
 battista and Lucia followed him. 
 
 " I will be alone with hiui," said Marzio, looking 
 back at the pair as he reached the door of the sick cham- 
 ber. He entered and a moment afterwards old Assunta 
 came out and shuffled away, holding her apron to her 
 eyes. 
 
CHAP. XI MAEZIO'S CEUC1FIX 245 
 
 Marzio went in. There was a small shaded lamp 
 on the deal table, which illuminated the room with a 
 soft light. Marzio felt that he could not trust himself 
 at first to look at his brother's face. He set the crucifix 
 upon the old chest of drawers, and put the lamp near " 
 it. Then he remained standing before it with his back 
 to the bed, and his hands in the pockets of his blouse. 
 He could hear the regular breathing which told that 
 Paolo was still alive. For a long time he could not 
 turn round ; it was as though an unseen power held 
 him motionless in his position. He looked at the 
 crucifix. 
 
 " If he wakes," he thought, " he will see it. It will 
 comfort him if he is going to die ! " 
 
 "With his back still turned towards the bed, he 
 moved to one side, until he thought that Paolo could 
 see what he had brought, if consciousness returned. 
 Very slowly, as though fearing some horrible sight, he 
 changed his position and looked timidly in the direc- 
 tion of the sick man. At last he saw the pale upturned 
 face, and was amazed that such an accident should have 
 produced so little change in the features. He came 
 and stood beside the bed. 
 
 Paolo had not moved since the surgeon had left ; he 
 was lying on his back, propped by pillows so that his 
 face was towards the light. He was pale now, for the 
 flush that had been in his cheeks had subsided ; his 
 
246 MAEZIO'S CEUC1FIX CHAP. XI 
 
 eyelids, -which had been half open, had dropped and 
 closed, so that he seemed to be sleeping peacefully, 
 ready to wake at the slightest sound. 
 
 Marzio stood and looked at him. This was the man 
 he had hated through so many years of boyhood aud 
 manhood — the man who had faced him and opposed 
 him at every step — who had stood up boldly before 
 him in his own house to defend what he believed to be 
 right. This was Paolo, whom he had nearly lolled 
 that morning. Marzio's right hand felt the iron tool 
 in the pocket of his blouse, and his fingers trembled as 
 he touched it, while his long arms twitched nervously 
 from the shoulder to the elbow. He took it out, looked 
 at it, and at the sick man's face. He asked himself 
 whether he could think of using it as he had meant to, 
 and then he let it fall upon the bit of green drugget 
 by the bedside. 
 
 That was Paolo — it would not need any sharpened 
 weapon to kill him now. A little pressure on the 
 throat, a pillow held over his face for a few moments, 
 and it would all be over. And what for ? To be pur- 
 sued for ever by that same white face ? No. It was 
 not worth while, it had never been worth while, even 
 were that all. But there was something else to be. 
 considered. Paolo might now die of his accident, in 
 his bed. There would be no murder done in that case, 
 no haunting horror of a presence, no discovery to be 
 
chap, xi MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX- 247 
 
 feared, since there would have been no evil. Let him 
 die, if he was dying ! 
 
 But that was not all either. What would it be 
 when Paolo should be dead ? Well, he had his ideas, 
 of course. They were mistaken ideas. Were they ? 
 Perhaps, who coidd tell ? But he was not a bad man, 
 this Paolo. He had never tried to wring money out of 
 Mai-zio, as some people did. On the contrary, Marzio 
 still felt a sense of .humiliation when he thought how 
 much he owed to the kindness of this man, his brother, 
 lying here injured to death, and powerless to help him- 
 self or to save himself. Powerless ? yes — utterly so. 
 How easy it. would be, after all, to press a pillow on 
 the unconscious face. There would probably not even 
 be a struggle. Who should save him, or who could 
 know of it ? And yet Marzio did not want to do it, 
 as he had wished to a few hours ago. As he looked 
 down on the pale head he realised that he did not 
 want Paolo to die. Standing on the sharp edge of the 
 precipice where life ends and breaks off, close upon the 
 unfathomable depths of eternity, himself firmly standing 
 and fearing no fall, but seeing his brother slipping over 
 the brink, he would put out his hand to save him, to 
 draw him back. He would not have Paolo die. 
 
 He gazed upon the calm features, and he knew that 
 he feared lest they should be still for ever. The 
 breath came more softly, more and more faintly, Marzio 
 
248 MAKZIO'S CRUCIFIX chap, xi 
 
 thought. He bent down low and tried to feel the 
 warm air as it issued from the lips. His fears grew 
 to terror as the life seemed to ebb away from the 
 white face. In the agony of his apprehension, Marzio 
 inadvertently laid his hand upon the injured shoulder, 
 unconsciously pressing his weight upon the place. 
 
 With a faint sigh the priest's eyes opened and 
 seemed to gaze for a moment on the crucifix standing 
 in the bright light of the lamp. An expression of 
 wonderful gentleness and calm overspread the refined 
 features. 
 
 " Qui propter nos homines et propter nostram salutem 
 descendit de coelis." 
 
 The words came faintly from the dying man's lips, 
 the last syllables scarcely audible in the intense still- 
 ness. A deathly pallor crept quickly over the smooth 
 forehead and thin cheeks. Marzio looked for one 
 instant more, and then with a loud cry fell upon his 
 knees by the bedside, his long arms extended across 
 his brother's body. The strong hot tears fell upon the 
 bed coverings, and his breast heaved with passionate 
 sobbing. 
 
 He did not see that Paolo opened his eyes at the 
 sound. . He did not notice the rush of feet in the 
 passage without, as Maria Luisa and Lucia and Gian- 
 battista ran to the door, followed by old Assunta 
 holding up her npron to her eyes. 
 
chap. XI MAftZIO'S CRUCIFIX 249 
 
 " Courage, Sor Marzio," said Gianbattista, drawing 
 the artist back from the bed. "You will disturb him. 
 Do you not see that he is conscious at last ?" 
 
 Lucia was arranging the pillows under Paolo's head, 
 and Maria Luisa was crying with joy. Marzio sprang 
 to his feet and stared as though he could not believe 
 what he saw. Paolo turned his head and looked 
 kindly at his brother. 
 
 " Courage, Marzio," he said, " I have been asleep, I 
 believe — what has happened to me ? Why are you 
 all crying ? " 
 
 Marzio 's tears broke out again, mingled with incoher- 
 ent words of joy. In his sudden happiness he clasped 
 the two persons nearest to him, and hugged them and 
 kissed them. These two chanced to be Lucia and 
 Gianbattista. Paolo smiled, but the effort of speaking 
 had tired him. 
 
 "Well," said Marzio at last, with a kinder smile 
 than had been on his face for many a day — " very 
 well, cliildren. For Paolo's sake you shall have your 
 own way." 
 
 Half an hour later the surgeon made his visit and 
 assured them all that there was no serious injury, nor 
 any further danger to be feared. The patient had 
 been very badly stunned, that was all. Marzio re- 
 mained by his brother's side. 
 
 " You see, Tista," said Lucia when they were in the 
 
250 MAUZIO's CRUCIFIX ; CHAr. xr 
 
 sitting-room, " I was quite right about the crucifix auJ 
 the rest." 
 
 " Of course," assented the Signers PancLoU^ though 
 she did not understand the allusion in the least. K Of 
 course you are all. of you right. But what a day this 
 has been, cari miei .' What a day! Dear, dear!" 
 She spread out her fat hands upon her knees, looking 
 the picture of solid contentment. 
 
 THE END 
 
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 calm and ideal contemplation of life ; of all that is pure and noble in 
 character ; of the great contentment that such an attainment leads to. 
 He is an author who should be very acceptable to women— especially to 
 young women— who are impulsive and eager in Christian work."— 
 Brooklyn Citizen. 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO., NEW YORK. 
 
A Companion Series to "Ward's English Poets." 
 A HISTORY OF 
 
 ENGLISH LITERATURE 
 
 In Four Volumes. 
 
 Student's Edition, each, $1.00 ; Cabinet Edition, cloth, 
 gilt top, each, $1.75. 
 
 1. — Pre-Elizabethan Period. By Rev. Stopford Brooke. 
 
 In Press. 
 2. — Age of Elizabeth. By George Saintsbury. Ready. 
 
 3. — The Literature of the Eighteenth Century. By Edmund 
 Gosse. In Press. 
 
 4. — Modern Period. By Edward Dowden. In Press. 
 
 PRESS NOTICES OF THE VOLUIE 01 ELIZABETHAN LITERATURE. 
 
 "Mr. Saintsbury has undertaken the rOle of adviser, and performs it with 
 admirable tact. The lesser Elizabethan literature marches in his pages at the 
 side of the great familiar works of Shakespeare, Spenser, Milton, Bacon, and 
 the re-t. He illustrates his critical opinions by well-chosen extracts, which 
 
 form an instructive anthology Looking at Mr. Saintsbnry'scriticism 
 
 as a whole, allowing for the vast tract of country it traverses, we regard it as 
 a healthy stimulaut for those who arc studying, or are preparing to study, 
 Elizabethan literature. 1 ' — London Athenaeum. 
 
 "Mr. Saintsbury has produced a most useful first-hand survey— comprehen- 
 sive, compendious, and spirited— of that unique period of literary history when 
 'all the muses still were in tneir prime." One knows not where else to look for 
 so well-proportioned and well-ordered a conspectus of the astonishingly varied 
 and rich products of the teeming English mind during the century that begins 
 with Tottei's Miscellany and the birth of Bacon, and closes with the Restora- 
 tion If , as there is good reason to hope, the other authors of this 
 
 literary history do their parts as thoroughly as Mr Saintsbury has done his, 
 the result will be a more satisfactory survey of the whole field of our literature 
 than we have hitherto possessed."— M. B. Andeusoh, in TheDial. 
 
 "Within comparatively brief limits, the greatest century of English literary 
 production is described with sufficient fullness to satisfy the student of English 
 literature, and with sufficient interest to hold the attention of one who desires 
 
 chiefly to get a clear conception of the general drift of the time 
 
 This latest history, when completed, promises to be the most satisfactory 
 history of English literature that has yet been written."— Christian Union. 
 
 " Will be valuable both to the student and to the general reader ; and if the 
 other volumes of the series are equally well done, the whole work will be the 
 standard history of English literature."— Science. 
 
 " A thoroughly delightful book. Mr. Saintsbury is recognized as one of the 
 best critics in England, and he has here a subject exactly suited to him. The 
 Elizabethan literature, for quality and quantity taken together, is unequaled 
 by any similar body of writings in the world."— Epoch. 
 
 MACM1LLAN & CO., NEW YORK. 
 
MACMILLAN AND CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 '•'•No library will be complete without iV— Commercial Advertises. 
 "J. Library in themselves." — Christian Union. 
 
 COMPLETE IN FOUR VOLUMES. 
 Students Edition, in box, $4.00 : Each Vol. $1J00. 
 Cabinet " " $5.00: Sold in sets only. 
 
 THE ENGLISH POETS. 
 
 SELECTIONS, 
 
 With Critical Introductions by Various Writers* 
 
 and a General Tntroduciion by 
 
 EDITED BY THOMAS HUMPHRY WARD, M.A. 
 
 Vol. I.— CHAUCER TO DONNE. 
 
 Vol. II.— BEN JONSON TO DRYDEN. 
 
 Vol. III.— ADDISON TO BLAKE. 
 
 Vol. IV.— WORDSWORTH TO ROSSETTI. 
 
 " AH lovers of poetry, all students of literature, all renders will welcome the 
 
 volumes of * The English Poets' . Mr. Matthew Arnold has written a most 
 
 delightful introduction, full of wise thought and poetic sensibility . Very 
 
 few books can be named in which so much that is precious can be had in so little 
 space and for so little money." — Tfie Philadelphia Times. 
 
 "Altogether it would be difficult to select four volumes of any kind better worth 
 owning and studying than these." — Nation. 
 
 " Mr. Ward gives us the gennine thing, the pure gold, and not a bare description 
 of how it looks. These four volumes ought to be placed in every library, and if 
 possible, in the hands of every student of English " — Churchman. 
 
 "This work is the completest and best of the kind in the English language. 11 — 
 Christian at Work. 
 
 " The bpst collection ever made. * * * A nobler library of poetry and 
 criticism is not to be found in the whole range of English literature." — N. Y. 
 Evening Mail. 
 
 "For the young, no work they will meet with can give them so good a view of 
 Jihe large and rich inheritance that lies open to them in the poetry of their country.' 1 
 *~tT. C. Shatrpy in "Academy.' 1 '' 
 
 "Mr. Arnold's delightful introduction to Ward's English Poets— perhaps the 
 very best collection of the kind ever made, and certainly edited in the most 
 admirable manner."— Unitarian HevLzo. 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO., NEW YORK.