Of course, I asked nothing better, and we agreed to wait until she was old enough.  We discussed the matter a thousand times.  We settled the details.  I agreed to go on working for the same small wages instead of leaving you, as I might have done, to seek my fortune elsewhere.  You see I am calm, I acknowledge that I was grateful to you for having taught me so much, and I am grateful still.  You have just given me another proof of your confidence in putting this work into my hands to finish.  I am grateful for that.  Well, we have talked of the marriage often; I have lived in your house; I have seen Lucia every day, for you have let us be together as much as we pleased; the result is that I not only am more anxious to marry her than I was before—­I love her; I am not ashamed to say so.  I know you laugh at women and say they are no better than monkeys with parrots’ heads.  I differ from you.  Lucia is an angel, and I love her as she loves me.  What happens?  One day you take an unreasonable dislike for me, without even warning me of the fact, and then, suddenly, last night, you come home and say she is to marry the Avvocato Gasparo Carnesecchi.  Now, for a man who has taught me that there is no God but reason, all this strikes me as very unreasonable.  Honestly, Sor Marzio, do you not think so yourself?”

Marzio looked at his apprentice and frowned, as though hesitating whether to lose his temper and launch into the invective style, or to answer Gianbattista reasonably.  Apparently he decided in favour of the more peaceable course.

“It is unworthy of a man who follows reason to lose his self-control and indulge in vain threats,” he answered, assuming a grand didactic air.  “You attempt to argue with me.  I will show you what argument really means, and whither it leads.  Now answer me some questions, Tista, and I will prove that you are altogether in the wrong.  When a man is devoted to a great and glorious cause, should he not do everything in his power to promote its success against those who oppose it?”

“Undoubtedly,” assented Gianbattista.

“And should not a man be willing to sacrifice his individual preferences in order to support and to further the great end of his life?”

“Bacchus!  I believe it!”

“Then how much the more easy must it be for a man to support his cause when there are no individual preferences in the way!” said Marzio triumphantly.  “That is true reason, my boy.  That is the inevitable logic of the great system.”

“I do not understand the allegory,” answered Gianbattista.

“It is as simple as roasted chestnuts,” returned Marzio.  “Even if I liked you, it would be my duty to prevent you from marrying Lucia.  As I do not like you—­you understand?”

“I understand that,” replied the young man.  “For some reason or other you hate me.  But, apart from the individual preferences, which you say it is your duty to overcome, I do not see why you are morally obliged to hinder our marriage, after having felt morally obliged to promote it?”