arefully with an amalgam of mercury and gold, and putting it into
a gentle, steady fire, until the mercury had evaporated, tearing only
the dull gold in an even deposit on the surfaces. Then the finishing,
the burnishing of the high lights, and the cleaning of the portions
which were to remain dull. Sometimes the gilding of a piece failed, and
had to be begun again, and there was endless trouble in saving the gold,
as well as in preventing the workmen from stealing the amalgam. It was
slow and troublesome work, and Marzio cared little for it, though his
artistic instinct restrained him from allowing it to leave the workshop
until it had been perfected to the highest degree.

At present the artist stood in the outer room among the wrapped pieces,
his pipe in his mouth and his hands in his pockets. A moment after
Gianhattista had entered, two carts rolled up to the door and the
loading began.

"Take the drills and some screws to spare," said Marzio, looking into
the bag of tools the foreman had prepared. "One can never tell in these
monstrous things."

"It will be the first time, if we have to drill a new hole after you
have fitted a piece of work, Maestro Marzio," answered the foreman, who
had an unlimited admiration for his master's genius and foresight.

"Never mind; do as I tell you. We may all make mistakes in this world,"
returned the artist, giving utterance to a moral sentiment which did not
influence him beyond the precincts of the workshop. The workman obeyed,
and added the requisite instruments to the furnishing of his leather
bag.

"And be careful, Tista," added Marzio, turning to the apprentice. "Look
to the sockets in the marble when you place the large pieces. Measure
them with your compass, you know; if they are too loose you have the
thin plates of brass to pack them; if they are tight, file away, but
finish and smooth it well Don't leave anything rough."

Gianbattista nodded as he lent a helping hand to the workmen who were
carrying the heavy pieces to the carts.

"Will you come to the church before night?" he asked.

"Perhaps. I cannot tell. I am very busy."

In ten minutes the pieces were all piled upon the two vehicles, and
Gianbattista strode away on foot with the workmen. He had not thought of
changing his dress, and had merely thrown an old overcoat over his grey
woollen blouse. For the time, he was an artisan at work. When working
hours were over, and on Sundays, he loved to put on the s