red Gianbattista, with a quiet smile.

"I should think not," assented Marzio proudly; then catching sight of
the expression on the young man's face, he turned sharply upon him. "You
are mocking me, you good-for-nothing!" he cried angrily. "You are
laughing at me, at your master, you villain you wretch, you sickly
hound, you priest-ridden worm! It is intolerable! It is the first time
you have ever dared; do you think I am going to allow you to think for
yourself after all the pains I have taken to educate you, to teach you
my art, you ungrateful reptile?"

"If you were not such a great artist I would have left you long ago,"
answered the apprentice. "Besides, I believe in your principles. It is
your expression of them that makes me laugh now and then; I think you go
too far sometimes!"

"As if any one had ever gone far enough" exclaimed Marzio, somewhat
pacified, for his moods were very quick. "Since there are still men who
are richer than others, it is a sign that we have not gone to the
end--to the great end in which we believe. I am sure you believe in it
too, Tista, don't you?"

"Oh yes--in the end--certainly. Do not let us quarrel about the means,
Maestro Marzio. I must do another leaf before dinner."

"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