tiff high
collar and the cheeked clothes which suggested the garments of the
English tourist. He was then a different person, and, in accordance with
the change, he would smoke a cigarette and pull his cuffs over his
hands, like a real gentleman, adjusting the angle of his hat from time
to time, and glancing at his reflection in the shop windows as he passed
along. But work was work; it was a pity to spoil good clothes with
handling tools and castings, and jostling against the men, and,
moreover, the change affected his nature. He could not handle a hammer
or a chisel when he felt like a real gentleman, and when he felt like an
artisan he must enjoy the liberty of being able to tuck up his sleeves
and work with a will. At the present moment, too, he was proud of being
in sole charge of the work, and he could not help thinking what a fine
thing it would be to be married to Lucia and to be the master of the
workshop. With the sanguine enthusiasm of a very young man who loves his
occupation, he put his whole soul into what he was to do, assured that
every skilful stroke of the hammer, every difficulty overcome, brought
him nearer to the woman he loved.

Marzio entered the inner studio when Gianbattista was gone, leaving a
boy who was learning to cut little files--the preliminary to the
chiseller's profession--in charge of the outer workshop. The artist shut
himself in and bolted the door, glad to be alone with the prospect of
not being disturbed during the whole afternoon. He seemed not to
hesitate about the work he intended to do, for he immediately took in
hand the crucifix, laid it upon the table, and began to study it, using
a lens from time to time as he scrutinised each detail. His rough hair
fell forward over his forehead, and his shoulders rounded themselves
till he looked almost deformed.

He had suffered very strong emotions during the last twenty-four
hours--enough to have destroyed the steadiness of an ordinary man's
hand; but with Marzio manual skill was the first habit of nature, and it
would have been hard to find a mental impression which could shake his
physical nerves. His mind, however, worked rapidly and almost fiercely,
while his eyes searched the minute lines of the work he was examining.

Uppermost in his thoughts was a confused sense of humiliation and of
exasperation against his brother. The anger he felt had nearly been
expressed in a murderous deed not more than two or three hours earlier,
and