, still watching him,
saw that he laid the cross down upon the table, and covered it with a
towel--the same one in which it had been wrapped.

"Come in," he called out "What is the matter?"

"I only came for a moment, papa," answered Lucia, entering the room and
glancing about her as she came forward. "Mamma sent me in to ask you
about the chickens--there are chickens for dinner--she wanted to know
whether you would like them roasted or boiled with rice."

"Roasted," replied Marzio, taking up a chisel and pretending to be busy.
"It is Gianbattista who likes them boiled."

"Thank you, I will go home and tell her. Papa--" the girl hesitated.

"What is the matter?"

"Papa, you are not angry any more as you were last night?"

"Angry? No. What makes you ask such a question? I was not angry last
night, and I am not angry now. Who put the idea into your head?"

"I am so glad," answered Lucia. "Not with me, not with Tista? I am so
glad! Where is Tista, papa?"

"I have not the slightest idea. You will probably not see Tista any
more, nor Gianbattista, nor his excellency the Signorino Bordogni"

Lucia turned suddenly pale, and rested her hand upon the old straw chair
on which Don Paolo had sat during his visit.

"What is this? What do you tell me? Not see Tista?" she asked quickly.

"Gianbattista had the bad taste to attack me this morning--here--in my
own studio," said Marzio, turning round and facing his daughter. "He put
his hands upon my face, do you understand? He would have stabbed me with
a chisel if Paolo had not interfered. Do you understand that? Out of
deference for your affections I did not kill him, as I might have done.
I dismissed him from my service, and gave him an hour to take his
effects out of my house. Is that clear? I offered him his money. He
threw it in my face and spat at me as he went out. Is that enough? If I
find him at home when I come to dinner I will have him turned out by the
police. You see, you are not likely to set eyes on him for a day or two.
You may go home and tell your mother the news, if she has not heard it
already. It will be sauce for her chickens."

Lucia leaned upon the chair during this speech, her black eyes growing
wider and wider, and her face turning whiter at every word. To her it
seemed, in this first moment, like a hopeless separation from the man
she loved. With a sudden movement she sprang forward, and fell on her
knees at Marzio's feet.

"Oh, my father, I be