it away."

"And the price? I must be able to tell the Cardinal."

"Oh, never mind the price. I will be content to take whatever he gives
me, since it is going. No price would represent the labour. Indeed,
Paolo, if it were any one but you, I would not let it go. Nothing but my
affection for you would make me give it to you. It is the gem of my
studio. Ah, how I worked at it ten years ago!"

"Thank you. I think I understand," answered the priest. "I am very much
obliged to you, Marzio, and I assure you it will be appreciated. I must
be going. Thank you for showing it to me. I will come and get it
to-night."

"Well, good-bye, Paolo," said Marzio. "Here is your umbrella."

As Don Paolo turned away to leave the room, the artist looked curiously
at the tonsure on his head, and his eyes followed it until Paolo had
covered it with his hat. Then he closed the door and went back to the
bench.

CHAPTER VIII

Lucia hastened homewards with the good news she bore. Her young nature
was elastic, and, in the sudden happiness of having secured
Gianbattista's recall, she quickly recovered from the shock she had
received. She did not reflect very much, for she had not the time. It
had all happened so quickly that her senses were confused, and she only
knew that the man she loved must be in despair, and that the sooner she
reached him the sooner she would be able to relieve him from what he
must be suffering. Her breath came fast as she reached the top of the
stairs, and she panted as she rang the bell of the lodging. Apparently
she had rung so loud in her excitement as to rouse the suspicions of old
Assunta, who cautiously peered through the little square that opened
behind a grating in the door, before she raised the latch. On seeing
Lucia she began to laugh, and opened quickly.

"So loud!" chuckled the old thing. "I thought it was the police or Sor
Marzio in a rage."

Lucia did not heed her, but ran quickly on to the sitting-room, where
the Signora Pandolfi was alone, seated on her straight chair and holding
her bonnet in her hand, the bonnet with the purple glass grapes; she was
the picture of despair. Lucia made haste to comfort her.

"Do not cry, mamma," she said quickly. "I have arranged it all. I have
seen papa. I have brought Tista's money. Papa wants him to stay after
all. Yes--I know you cannot guess how it all happened. I went in to ask
about the chickens, and then I asked about Tista, and he told me that I