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 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."