Don Paolo smiled, and Lucia looked sympathetically from him to her mother.

“I am afraid that half a dozen handkerchiefs would have a bad effect,” said the priest.  “Either he would see that you are not in earnest, and then he would be very angry, or else he would be deceived and would think that you were really buying the outfit.  In that case you would have done harm.  This thing must not go any further.  The idea must be got out of his head as soon as possible.”

“But if I do nothing at all before dinner he will be furious—­he will cry out that we are all banded together against him—­”

“So we are,” said Don Paolo simply.

“Oh dear, oh dear!” moaned the Signora Pandolfi, looking for her handkerchief in the anticipation of fresh tears.

“Do not cry, mamma.  It is of no use,” said Lucia.

“No, it is of no use to cry,” assented the priest.  “There is nothing to be done but to go and face Marzio, and not leave him until he has changed his mind.  You are afraid to meet him at midday.  I will go now to the workshop and find him.”

“Oh, you are an angel, Paolo!” cried Maria Luisa, regaining her composure and replacing her handkerchief in her pocket.  “Then we need not buy anything?  What a relief!”

“I told you Uncle Paolo would know what to do,” said Lucia.  “He is so good—­and so courageous.  I would not like to face papa this morning.  Will you really go, Uncle Paolo?” The young girl went and took down his cloak and hat from a peg on the wall, and brought them to him.

“Of course I will go, and at once,” he answered.  “But I must give you a word of advice.”

“We will do everything you tell us,” said the two women together.

“You must not ask him any questions, nor refer to the matter at all when he comes home.”

“Diana!  I would as soon speak of death!” exclaimed the Signora Pandolfi.

“And if he begins to talk about it you must not answer him, nor irritate him in any way.”

“Be easy about that,” answered the fat lady.  “Never meddle with sleeping dogs—­I know.”

“If he grows very angry you must refer him to me.”

“Oh, but that is another matter!  I would rather offer pepper to a cat than talk to him of you.  You would see how he would curse and swear and call you by bad names.”

“Well, you must not do anything to make him swear, because that would be a sin; but if he only abuses me, I do not mind.  He will do that when I talk to him.  Perhaps after all, if he mentions the matter, you had better remain silent.”

“Eh! that will be easy.  He talks so much, and he talks so fast, never waiting for an answer.  But are you not afraid for yourself, dear Paolo?”

“Oh, he will not hurt me—­I am not afraid of him,” answered the priest.  “He will talk a little, he will use some big words, and then it will be finished.  You see, it is not a great thing, after all.  Take courage, Maria Luisa, it will be a matter of half an hour.”