thing. I have a
matter of business with you, Marzio. That is what I came for this
evening. If you have done, we will speak of it."

"Business?" exclaimed Marzio in loud ironical tones. "This is a good
time for talking of business--as good as any other! What is it?"

"The Cardinal wants another piece of work done, a very fine piece of
work."

"The Cardinal? I will not make any more chalices for your cardinals. I
am sick of chalices, and monstrances, and such stuff."

"It is none of those," answered Don Paolo quietly. "The Cardinal wants a
magnificent silver crucifix. Will you undertake it? It must be your
greatest work, if you do it at all."

"A crucifix?" repeated Marzio, in a changed tone. The angry gleam faded
from his eyes, and a dreamy look came into them as he let the heavy lids
droop a little, and remained silent, apparently lost in thought. The
women ceased sobbing, and watched his altered face, while Gianbattista
sank down into a chair and absently fingered the pencil that had fallen
across the drawing-board.

"Will you do it?" asked Don Paolo, at last.

"A crucifix," mused the artist. "Yes, I will make a crucifix. I have
made many, but I have never made one to my mind. Yes, tell the Cardinal
that I will make it for him, if he will give me time."

"I do not think he will need it in less than three or four months,"
answered Don Paolo.

"Four months--that is not a long time for such a work. But I will try."

Thereupon Marzio, whose manner had completely changed, puffed at his
pipe until it burned freely, and then approached the table, glancing at
Gianbattista and Lucia as though nothing had happened. He drew the
drawing-board which the apprentice had been using towards him, and,
taking the pencil from the hand of the young man, began sketching heads
on one corner of the paper.

Don Paolo looked at him gravely. After the words Marzio had spoken, it
had gone against the priest's nature to communicate to him the
commission for the sacred object. He had hesitated a moment, asking
himself whether it was right that such a man should be allowed to do
such work. Then the urgency of the situation, and his knowledge of his
brother's character, had told him that the diversion might avert some
worse catastrophe, and he had quickly made up his mind. Even now he
asked himself whether he had done right. It was a question of theology,
which it would have taken long to analyse, and Don Paolo had other
matters to thi