ht of it before, in all the years, as a means of freeing
himself effectually from the despotism he detested. It was a despotism,
he reflected, and no other word expressed it. He recalled many scenes in
his home, in which Paolo had interfered. He remembered how one Sunday,
in the afternoon, they had all been together before going to walk in
the Corso, and how he had undertaken to demonstrate to Maria Luisa and
Lucia the folly of wasting time in going to church on Sundays. He had
argued gently and reasonably, he thought. But suddenly Paolo had
interrupted him, saying that he would not allow Marzio to compare a
church to a circus, nor priests to mountebanks and tight-rope dancers.
Why not? Then the women had begun to scream and cry, and to talk of his
blasphemous language until he could not hear himself speak. It was
Paolo's fault. If Paolo had not been there the women would have listened
patiently enough, and would doubtless have reaped some good from his
reasonable discourse. On another occasion Marzio had declared that Lucia
should never be taught anything about Christianity, that the definition
of God was reason, that Garibaldi had baptized one child in the name of
Reason and that he, Marzio, could baptize another quite as effectually.
Paolo had interfered, and Maria Luisa had screamed. The contest had
lasted nearly a month, at the end of which tune, Marzio had been obliged
to abandon the uneven contest, vowing vengeance in some shape for the
future.

Many and many such scenes rose to his memory, and in every one Paolo was
the opposer, the enemy of his peace, the champion of all that he hated
and despised. In great things and small his brother had been his
antagonist from his early manhood, through eighteen years of married
life to the present day. And yet, without Paolo, he could hardly have
hoped to find himself in his present state of fortune.

This was one of the chief sources of his humiliation in his own eyes.
With such a character as his, it is eminently true that it is harder to
forgive a benefit than an injury. He might have felt less bitterly
against his brother if he had not received at his hands the orders and
commissions which had turned into solid money in the bank. It was hard
to face Paolo, knowing that he owed two-thirds of his fortune to such a
source. If he could get rid of the priest he would be relieved at once
from the burden of this annoyance, of this financial subjection, as well
of all that em