iving vent
to his feelings. "Where will it end? He may have changed, he may be all
you say he is to-day, all that he was not yesterday, but do you really
believe he has given up his wild idea? It is not all as it should be,
and that is not his nature. It will come upon us suddenly with something
we do not expect. He will do something--I cannot tell what, but I know
him better than you do. He is cruel, he plots over his work, and then,
when all seems calm, the storm breaks. It will not end well."

"We must love each other, Tista. Then all will end well. Who can divide
us?"

"No one," answered the young maid firmly. "But many things may happen
before we are united for ever."

He was not subject to presentiments, and his self-confident nature
abhorred the prospect of trouble. He had arrived at his conclusion by a
logical process, and there seemed no escape from it. As he had told
Lucia, he knew the character of the chiseller better than the women of
the household could know it, for he had been his constant companion for
years, and was not to be deceived in his estimate of Marzio's temper. A
man's natural disposition shows itself most clearly when he is in his
natural element, at his work, busied in the ordinary occupations of his
life. To such a man as Marzio, the workshop is more sympathetic than the
house. Disagreeing on most points with his family, obliged to be absent
during the whole day, wholly absorbed in the production of works which
the women of his household could not thoroughly appreciate, because they
did not thoroughly understand the ideas which originated them, nor the
methods employed in their execution--under these combined circumstances
it was to be expected that the artist's real feelings would find
expression at the work-bench rather than in the society of his wife and
daughter. Seated by Marzio's side, and learning from him all that could
be learned, Gianbattista had acquired at the same time a thorough
knowledge of his instincts and emotions, which neither Maria Luisa nor
Lucia was able to comprehend.

Marzio was tenacious of his ideas and of his schemes. Deficient in power
of initiative and in physical courage, he was obstinate beyond all
belief in his adherence to his theories. That he should suddenly yield
to a devotional impulse, fall upon his knees before a crucifix and cry
_mea culpa_ over his whole past life, was altogether out of the
question. In Gianbattista's opinion it was almost as impo