ou play
every day in your churches, everybody who is fool enough to drop a coin
into your greedy palm! What right have you to talk to men? Do you work?
Do you buy? Do you sell? You are worse than those fine gentlemen who do
nothing because their fathers stole our money, for you live by stealing
it yourselves! And you set yourselves up as judges over an honest man to
tell him what he is to do with his daughter? You fool, you thing in
petticoats, you deceiver of women, you charlatan, you mountebank, go! Go
and perform your antics before your altars, and leave hardworking men
like me to manage their families as they can, and to marry their
daughters to whom they will!"

Marzio had rolled off his string of invective in such a tone, and so
rapidly, that it had been impossible to interrupt him. The two women
were sobbing bitterly. Gianbattista, pale and breathing hard, looked as
though he would throttle Marzio if he could reach him, and Don Paolo
faced the angry artist, with reddening forehead, folding his arms and
straining his muscles to control himself. When Marzio paused for breath,
the priest answered him with an effort.

"You may insult me if it pleases you," he said, "it is nothing to me. I
cannot prevent your uttering your senseless blasphemies. I speak to you
of the matter in hand. I tell you simply that in treating these two, who
love each other, as you are treating them, you are doing a thing
unworthy of a man. Moreover, the law protects your daughter, and I will
see that the law does its duty."

"Oh, to think that I should have such a monster for a husband," groaned
the fat Signora Pandolfi, still rocking herself in her chair, and hardly
able to speak through her sobs.

"You will do a bad day's work for yourself and your art when you try to
separate us," said Gianbattista between his teeth.

Marzio laughed hoarsely, and turned his back on the rest, beginning to
fill his pipe at the chimney-piece. Don Paolo heard the apprentice's
words, and understood their meaning. He went and laid his hand on the
young man's shoulder.

"Do not let us have any threats, Tista," he said quietly. "Sor Marzio
will never do this thing--believe me, he cannot if he would."

"Go on," cried Marzio, striking a match. "Go on--sow the seeds of
discord, teach them all to disobey me. I am listening, my dear Paolo."

"All the better, if you are," answered the priest, "for I assure you I
am in earnest. You will have time to consider this