to go to the churches and study, Tista. Everything is useful in our
art--pictures, statues, mosaics, metal-work. Now I believe there is not
a really good crucifix, nor a crucifixion, in Rome. 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 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 things of the kind are not much better either.
Works of art, perhaps, but not satisfactory. Even Michael Angelo's
_Pietà_ 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 slate, 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.