"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!"

"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,