"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
characteristic 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, together with a strong desire to show his work as soon as it
was presentable.

"It is a masterpiece!" exclaimed Gianbattista. "What detail! I shall
never be able to finish anything 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 am always in a bad humour," grumbled Marzio, rising and
walking about the brick 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