Pretty, that — an artist's brother with silver buckles !
I told him to go to the devil, his father, for his orna-
ments. Why does he not steal an old pair from the
cardinal, his bondmaster ? Not good enough, I sup-
pose — beast !"

Marzio laid aside his hammer and chisel, and lit
the earthen pipe with the rough wooden stem that lay
beside him. Then he examined the beautiful head of
the angel he had been making upon the body of the
ewer. He touched it lovingly, loosed the cord, and
lifted the piece from the pad, turning it towards the
light and searching critically for any defect in the.
modelling of the little face. He replaced it on the
table, and selecting a very fine -pointed punch, laid
down his pipe for a moment and set about putting the
tiny pupils into the eyes. Two touches were enough.;
He began smoking again, and contemplated what he
had done. It was the body of a large silver ewer of
which Gianbattista was ornamenting the neck and
mouth, which were of a separate piece. Amongst the
intricate arabesques little angels' heads were embossed,
and on one side a group of cherubs was bearing a



CHAP, t MABZIO'S CRUCIFIX" 11

" monstrance " -with the sacred Host through silver
clouds. A hackneyed subject on church vessels, but
which had taken wonderful beauty under the skilled
fingers of the artist, who sat cursing the priest who
was to use it, while expending his best talents on its
perfections.
