orth the contempt of
those he had sought to terrify.

The position was galling in the extreme; for, like many artists who are
really remarkable in their profession, Marzio was very vain of his
intellectual superiority in other branches. It may be a question whether
vanity is not essential to any one who is forced to compete in
excellence with other gifted men. Vanity means emptiness, and in the
case of the artist it means that emptiness which craves to be filled
with praise. The artist may doubt his own work, but he is bitterly
disappointed if other people doubt it also. Marzio had his full share of
this kind of vanity, which, as in most cases, extended beyond the sphere
of his art. How often does one hear two or three painters or sculptors
who are gathered together in a studio, laying down the law concerning
Government, society, and the distribution of wealth. And yet, though
they make excellent statues and paint wonderful pictures, there are very
few instances on record of artists having borne any important part in
the political history of their times. Not from any want of a desire to
do so, in many cases, but from the real want of the power; and yet many
of them believe themselves far more able to solve political and social
questions than the men who represent them in the Parliament of their
country, or the persons who by innate superiority of tact have made
themselves the arbiters of society.

Marzio's vanity suffered terribly, for he realised the wide difference
that existed between his aims and the result actually produced. For this
reason he had determined to bring matters to a point of contention in
his household, in order to assert once and for all the despotic
authority which he believed to be his right. He knew well enough that in
proposing the marriage of Lucia with Carnesecchi, he had hit upon a plan
which Paolo would oppose with all his might. It seemed as though he
could not have selected a question more certain to produce a hot
contention. He had brought forward his proposal boldly, and had not
hesitated to make a most virulent personal attack on his brother when
the latter had shown signs of opposition. And yet, as he sat over his
drawing board, staring at the clouds of smoke that rose from his pipe,
he was unpleasantly conscious that he had not been altogether
victorious, that he had not played the part of the despot to the end, as
he had intended to do, that he had suddenly felt his inferiority to
P