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Updated: June 15, 2025
"That is the one I saw," she whispered to Gianbattista. The young man said nothing, but fixed his eyes upon the cross. "Papa," said Lucia timidly, "do you know?" "Yes. Is he alone?" asked Marzio in a tone which was not like his own. "There is Assunta," answered the young girl. "I will go to him," said the artist, and without further words he lifted the crucifix from the table and went out.
"There is nothing to be done but to go and face Marzio, and not leave him until he has changed his mind. You are afraid to meet him at midday. I will go now to the workshop and find him." "Oh, you are an angel, Paolo!" cried Maria Luisa, regaining her composure and replacing her handkerchief in her pocket. "Then we need not buy anything? What a relief!"
Good-bye, Tista." He pressed the young man's hand warmly, as though to thank him for his courageous defence, and then left the workshop. Marzio paid no attention to his departure. When the door was closed, and as Gianbattista was returning to his bench, the artist dropped his modelling tools and faced his apprentice. "You may go too," he said in a low tone, as though he were choking.
And gradually the shadows deepened more and more, and gathered into gloom till in the dark the black arms of the cross scarcely stood out from the darkness, and in the last lingering twilight he could see only the clear outline of the white head and outstretched hands, that seemed to emit a soft radiance gathered from the brightness of the departed day. Marzio struck a match and lit his lamp.
"It is very wonderful," said Paolo, controlling himself by an effort. "When did you make it, Marzio? You have not had time " "I made it years ago," answered the chiseller, turning his face away to hide his pallor. "I made it for myself. I never meant to show it, but I believe I cannot do anything better. Will it do for your cardinal? Look at the work.
Like every real Roman, Marzio thought of old Marforio as he strolled up the narrow street towards the Capitol, and regretted the lawless days of conspiracy and treacherous deeds when every man's hand was against his fellow. He wandered on, his eyes cast down, and his head bent. Some one jostled against him, walking quickly in the opposite direction.
He pictured to himself his wife and daughter listening respectfully to his harangues and beginning to practise his principles, Gianbattista, an eloquent member of the society in the inner room of the old inn, reformed, purged from his sneaking fondness for Paolo since Paolo would not be in the world any longer and ultimately married to Lucia, the father of children who should all be baptized in the name of Reason, and the worthy successor of himself, Marzio Pandolfi.
In real fact, Marzio took off his hat when he met the king in the street, paid his taxes with a laudable regularity, and increased the small fortune he had saved by selling sacred vessels to the priests against whom he inveighed.
The ladder slipped, Paolo ran to catch it, and it fell on him. He is badly hurt, but not dead; is that it, Gigia?" Maria Luisa nodded in the midst of a fit of weeping. "The surgeon has been, you say? Yes. And where is Paolo lying?" "In Tista's room," sobbed his wife. "They are with him now." Marzio stood still and hesitated.
The young man looked at his work, holding his tools in his hands, but hesitating to lay the point of the chisel on the silver, as he hesitated to believe the evidence of his memory. Marzio had risen early that morning, as has been said, and had left the house before any one but Gianbattista was up.
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