Marzio struck a match and lit his lamp. His
thoughts were so wholly absorbed that he had not
remembered the workmen, nor wondered why they
had not come back. After all, most of them lived in
the direction of the church, and if tliey had finished
their work late they would very probably go home
without returning to the shop. The chiseller wrapped
the crucifix in the old white cloth, and laid it in its
plain wooden box, but he did not screw the cover
down, merely putting it on loosely so that it could be
-removed. in a moment. He laid his tools in order,
mechanically, as he did every evening, and then he
extinguished the light and made his way to the door,
carrying the box under his arm.
The boy who alone had remained at work had



240 MAEZIO'S CRUCIFIX Chap, xi

lighted a tallow candle, and was sitting dangling his
heels from his stool as Marzio came out.
" Still here ! " exclaimed the artist.
" Eh ! You did not tell me to go," answered the
lad.
Marzio locked the heavy outer door and crossed
over to his house, while the hoy went whistling down
the street in the dusk. Slowly the artist mounted the
stairs, pondering, as he went, on the many emotions of
the day, and at last repeating his conclusion, that he
was glad that he had not killed Paolo.
