political creed and extreme free thought, Gianbattista had fallen, into
the way of asking questions 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 comparing
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 exaggeration 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
Gianbattista had grown more quiet during the last year, and he hoped
that his marriage with Lucia would complete the change. To see her
thrown into 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 subject would not even be broached for some time to come.

Marzio continued to draw in silence, and after a 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