“Tista,” began, Lucia, coming forward and laying her fingers on his curly hair, “what did all that mean last night?  Have you understood?”

“Who understands that lunatic!” exclaimed Gianbattista, passing his arm round the girl’s waist, and drawing her to him.  “I only understand one thing, we must be married as soon as possible and be done with it.  Is it not true, Lucia?”

“I hope so,” answered his companion, with a blush and a sigh.  “But I am so much afraid.”

“Do not be afraid, leave it all to me, I will protect you, my darling,” replied the young man, tapping his breast with the ready gesture of an Italian, as though to prove his courage.

“Oh, I am sure of that!  But how can it be managed?  Of course he cannot force me to marry Carnesecchi, as Uncle Paolo explained to him.  But he will try, and he is so bad!”

“Let him try, let him try,” repeated Gianbattista.  “I made a bargain with him last night after you had gone to bed.  Do you know what I told him?  I told him that I would stay with him, but that if you married any one but me, I would cut his throat—­Sor Marzio’s throat, do you understand?”

“Oh, Tista!” cried Lucia.  “How did you ever have the courage to tell him such a thing?  Besides, you know, you would not do it, would you?”

“Do not trouble yourself, he saw I was in earnest, and he will think twice about it.  Besides, he said yesterday that I might have you if I would take you away.”

“A nice thing for a father to say of his daughter!” exclaimed the girl angrily.  “And what did you answer him then, my love?”

“Oh!  I said that I had not the slightest objection to the proceeding.  And then he tried to prove to me that we should starve without him, and then he swore at me like a Turk.  What did it matter?  He said I was changed.  By Diana!  Any man would change, just for the sake of not being like him!”

“How do you mean that you are changed, dear?” asked Lucia anxiously.

“Who knows?  He said I fawned on Don Paolo like a dog, instead of hating the priests as I used to do.  What do you think, love?”

“I think Uncle Paolo would laugh at the idea,” answered the girl, smiling herself, but rather sadly.  “I am afraid you are as bad as ever, in that way.”

“I am not bad, Lucia.  I begin to think I like Don Paolo.  He was splendid last night.  Did you see how he stared your father out of countenance, and then turned him into a lamb with the order for the crucifix?  Don Paolo has a much stronger will than Sor Marzio, and a great deal more sense.  He will make your father change his mind.”

“Of course it would be for the better if we could be married without any objection, and I am very glad you are growing fond of Uncle Paolo.  But I have seen it for some time.  He is so good!”

“Yes.  That is the truth,” answered Gianbattista in meditative tone.  “He is too good.  It is not natural.  And then he has a way of making me feel it.  Now, I would have strangled Sor Marzio last night if your uncle had not been there, but he prevented me.  Of course he was right.  Those people always are.  But one hates to be set right by a priest.  It is humiliating!”