ilence followed. Don Paolo could not find words
to express his admiration, and his wonder was mixed with a profound
feeling of devotion. The amazing reality of the figure, clothed at the
same time in a sort of divine glory, impressed itself upon him as he
gazed, and roused that mystical train of religious contemplation which
is both familiar and dear to devout persons. He lost himself in his
thoughts, and his refined features showed as in a mirror the current of
his meditation. The agony of the Saviour of mankind was renewed before
him, culminating in the sacrifice upon the cross. Involuntarily Paolo
bent his head and repeated in low tones the words of the Creed, "_Qui
propter nos homines et propter_ _nostram, salutem descendit de
coelis_," and then, "_Crucifixus etiam pro nobis_."

Marzio stood looking on, his hands in his pockets. His fingers grasped
the long sharp punch he had taken from the table after Gianbattista's
departure. His eyes fixed themselves upon the smooth tonsure at the back
of Paolo's head, and slowly his right hand issued from his pocket with
the sharp instrument firmly clenched in it. He raised it to the level of
his head, just above that smooth shaven circle in the dark hair. His
eyes dilated and his mouth worked nervously as the pale lips stretched
themselves across the yellow teeth.

Don Paolo moved, and turned to speak to his brother concerning the work
of art. Seeing Marzio's attitude, he started with a short cry and
stretched out his arm as though to parry a blow.

"Marzio!"

The artist had quickly brought his hand to his forehead, and the ghastly
affectation of a smile wreathed about his white lips. His voice was
thick.

"I was only shading my eyes from the sun. Don't you see how it dazzles
me, reflected from the silver? What did you imagine, Paolo? You look
frightened."

"Oh, nothing," answered the priest bravely. "Perhaps I am a little
nervous to-day."

"Bacchus! It looks like it," said Marzio, with an attempt to laugh.
Then he tossed the tool upon the table among the rest with an impatient
gesture. "What do you think of the crucifix?"

"It is very wonderful," said Paolo, controlling himself by an effort.
"When did you make it, Marzio? You have not had time--"

"I made it years ago," answered the chiseller, turning his face away to
hide his pallor. "I made it for myself. I never meant to show it, but I
believe I cannot do anything better. Will it do for your cardinal? Look
at th