ce!" he cried.

"They would be kicked into the middle of Montecitorio in a quarter of an
hour," answered the thin voice of the lawyer. "Our friend Marzio is
slightly mad, but he is a good fellow in theory. In practice that sort
of thing must be dropped into public life a little at a time, as one
drops vinegar into a salad, on each leaf. If you don't, all the vinegar
goes to the bottom together, and smells horribly sour."

While Marzio was holding forth to his friends, the family circle in the
Via dei Falegnami was enjoying a very pleasant evening in his absence.
The Signora Pandolfi presided at supper in a costume which lacked
elegance, but ensured comfort--the traditional skirt and white cotton
jacket of the Italian housewife. Lucia wore the same kind of dress, but
with less direful effects upon her appearance. Gianbattista, as usual
after working hours, was arrayed in clothes of fashionable cut, aiming
at a distant imitation of the imaginary but traditional English tourist.
A murderous collar supported his round young chin, and a very
stiffly-constructed pasteboard-lined tie was adorned by an exquisite
silver pin of his own workmanship--the only artistic thing about him.

Besides these members of the family, there was a fourth person at
supper, the person whom, of all others, Marzio detested, Paolo Pandolfi,
his brother the priest, commonly called Don Paolo. He deserves a word of
description, for there was in his face a fleeting resemblance to Marzio,
which might easily have led a stranger to believe that there was a
similarity between their characters. Tall, like his brother, the priest
was a little less thin, and evidently far less nervous. The expression
of his face was thoughtful, and the deep, heavily-ringed eyes were like
Marzio's, but the forehead was broader, and the breadth ascended higher
in the skull, which was clearly defined by the short, closely-cropped
hair and the smooth tonsure at the back. The nose was larger and of more
noble shape, and Paolo's complexion was less yellow than his brother's;
the features were not surrounded by furrows or lines, and the leanness
of the priest's face threw them into relief. The clean shaven upper lip
showed a kind and quiet mouth, which smiled easily and betrayed a sense
of humour, but was entirely free from any suggestion of cruelty. Don
Paolo was scrupulous of his appearance, and his cassock and mantle were
carefully brushed, and his white collar was immaculately cl