--that was all. But
the deep light of the failing day shed a peaceful halo aver everything,
and touched the coarse details of a hardworking existence with the
divine light of Heaven.

Lucia's sobbing ceased after a while, and, as the sunset faded into
twilight and dusk, the silence grew more profound; the sick man's
breathing became lighter, as though in his unconsciousness he were
beginning to rest after the day in which he had endured so much. From
the sitting-room beyond the short passage the sound of Maria Luisa's
voice, moaning in concert with old Assunta, gradually diminished till
they were heard only at intervals, and at last ceased altogether. The
household of Marzio Pandolfi was hushed in the presence of a great
sorrow, and awed by the anticipation of a great misfortune.

CHAPTER XI

Marzio, in ignorance of all that was happening at the church, continued
to work in the solitude of his studio, and the current of his thoughts
flowed on in the same channel. He tried to force his attention upon the
details of the design he meditated against his brother's life, and for
some time he succeeded. But another influence had begun to work upon his
brain, since the moment when he had been frightened by the sound behind
him while he was examining the hole beneath the strong box. He would not
own to himself that such a senseless fear could have produced a
permanent impression on him, and yet he felt disturbed and unsettled,
unaccountably discomposed, and altogether uncomfortable. He could not
help looking round from time to time at the door, and more than once his
eyes rested for several seconds upon the safe, while a slight shiver ran
through his body and seemed to chill his fingers.

But he worked on in spite of all this. The habit of the chisel was not
to be destroyed by the fancied scare of a moment, and though his eyes
wandered now and then, they came back to the silver statue as keen as
ever. A little touch with the steel at one point, a little burnishing at
another, the accentuation of a line, the deepening of a shadow--he
studied every detail with a minute and scrupulous care which betrayed
his love for the work he was doing.

And yet the uneasiness grew upon him. He felt somehow as though Paolo
were present in the room with him, watching him over his shoulder,
suggesting improvements to be made, in that voice of his which now rang
distinctly in the artist's ear. His imagination worked morbidly, and he
t