his word," suggested Gianbattista.

"Just so--it would be a fine affair!" exclaimed Lucia ironically.

"After all, he said so," argued the young man. "What does it matter
whether he meant it?"

"Things are going badly for us," sighed his companion. "It was different
a year ago. You must have done something to displease him, Tista. I wish
I knew!" Her dark eyes suddenly assumed an angry expression, and she
drew in her red lips.

"Wish you knew what?" inquired the apprentice, in a colder tone.

"Why he does not think about it as he used to. He never made any
objections until lately. It was almost settled."

Gianbattista glanced significantly at Don Paolo, shrugged his shoulders,
and went on drawing.

"What has that to do with it?" asked Lucia impatiently.

"It is enough for your father that it would please his brother. He would
hate a dog that Don Paolo liked."

"What nonsense!" exclaimed the girl. "It is something else. Papa sees
something--something that I do not see. He knows his own affairs, and
perhaps he knows yours too, Tista. I have not forgotten the other
evening."

"I!" ejaculated the young man, looking up angrily.

"You know very well where I was--at the Circolo Artistico. How do you
dare to think--"

"Why are you so angry if there is no one else in the case?" asked Lucia,
with a sudden sweetness, which belied the jealous glitter in her eyes.

"It seems to me that I have a right to be angry. That you should suspect
me after all these years! How many times have I sworn to you that I went
nowhere else?"

"What is the use of your swearing? You do not believe in anything--why
should you swear? Why should I believe you?"

"Oh--if you talk like that, I have finished!" answered Gianbattista.
"But there--you are only teasing me. You believe me, just as I believe
you. Besides, as for swearing and believing in something besides
you--who knows? I love you--is not that enough?"

Lucia's eyes softened as they rested on the young man's face. She knew
he loved her. She only wanted to be told so once more.

"There is Marzio," said Don Paolo, as a key rattled in the latch of the
outer door.

"At this hour!" exclaimed the Signora Pandolfi, suddenly waking up and
rubbing her eyes with her fat fingers.

CHAPTER III

Marzio, having divested himself of his heavy coat and hat, appeared at
the door of the sitting-room.

Everybody looked at him, as though to discern the signs of his temper,
and no on