e work. It is as fine as anything of the kind in the world, though
I say it. Yes--it is cast. Of course, you do not understand the art,
Paolo, but I will explain it all to you in a few minutes--"

Marzio talked very fast, almost incoherently, and he was evidently
struggling with an emotion. Paolo, standing back a little from the
bench, nodded his head from time to time.

"It is all very simple," continued the artist, as though he dared not
pause for breath. "You see one sometimes makes little figures of real
_repousse_, half and half, done in cement and then soldered together so
that they look like one piece, but it is impossible to do them well
unless you have dies to press the plate into the first shape--and the
die always makes the same figure, though you can vary the face and twist
the arms and legs about. Cheap silver crucifixes and angels and those
things are all made in that way, and with care a great deal can be done,
of course, to give them an artistic look."

"Of course," assented Don Paolo, in a low voice. He thought he
understood the cause of his brother's eloquence.

"Yes, of course," continued Marzio, as rapidly as before. "But to make a
really good thing like this, is a different matter. A very different
matter. Here you must model your figure in wax, and make moulds of the
parts of it, and chisel each part separately, copying the model. And
then you must join all the parts together with silver-soldering, and go
over the lines carefully. It needs the most delicate handling, for
although the casting is very heavy it is not like working on a chalice
that is filled with cement and all arranged for you, that can be put in
the fire, melted out, softened, cooled, and worked over as often as you
please. There is no putting in the fire here--not more than once after
you have joined the pieces. Do you understand me? Why do you look at me
in that way, Paolo? You look as though you did not follow me."

"On the contrary," said the priest, "I think I understand it very
well--as well as an outsider can understand such a process. No--I merely
look at the finished work. It is superb, Marzio--magnificent! I have
never seen anything like it."

"Well, you may have it to-night," said Marzio, turning away, and
walking about the room. "I will touch it over. I can improve it a
little. I have learned something in ten years. I will work all to-day,
and I will bring it home this evening to show Maria Luisa. Then you may
take