Gianbattista entered the sitting-room, and, from the young girl’s radiant expression, he guessed that some favourable change had taken place in his position, or in the positions of them both.  Lucia began to tell him what had passed, and gave much the same account as she had given to her mother, though some of the intonations were softer, and accompanied by looks which told her happiness.  When she had explained the situation she paused for an answer.  Gianbattista stood beside her and held her hand, but he looked out of the window, as though uncertain what to say.

“Here is the money,” said Lucia.  “You will take it, won’t you?  Then it will be all settled.  What is the matter, Tista?  Are you not glad?”

“I do not trust him,” answered the young man.  “It is not like him to change his mind like that, all in a minute.  He means some mischief.”

“What can he do?”

“I do not know.  I feel as if some evil were coming.  Patience!  Who knows?  You are an angel, Lucia, darling.”

“Everybody is telling me so to-day,” answered the young girl.  “Papa, you—­”

“Of course.  It is quite true, my heart, and so every one repeats it.  What do you think?  Will he come home to dinner?  It is only eleven o’clock—­perhaps I ought to go back and work at the ewer.  Somehow I do not want to see him just now—­”

“Stay with me, Tista.  Besides, you were packing up your belongings to go away.  You have a right to take an hour to unpack them.  Tell me, what is this idea you have that papa is not in earnest?  I want to understand it.  He was quite in earnest just now—­so good, so good, like sugar!  Is it because you are still angry with him, that you do not want to see him?”

“No—­why should I still be angry?  He has made reparation.  After all, I took a certain liberty with him.”

“That is all the more reason.  If he is willing to forget it—­but I could tell you something, Tista, something that would persuade you.”

“What is it, my treasure?” asked Gianbattista with a smile, bending down to look into her eyes.

“Oh, something very wonderful, something of which you would never dream.  I could scarcely believe my eyes.  Imagine, when I went to find him just now, the door was open.  I looked through before I went in, to see if you were there.  Do you know what papa was doing?  He was kneeling on the floor before a beautiful crucifix, such a beautiful one.  I think he was saying prayers, but I could not see his face.  He stayed a long time, and then when I knocked he covered it up, was not that strange?  That is the reason why I persuaded him so easily to change his mind.”

Gianbattista smiled incredulously.  He had often seen Marzio kneel on the floor to get a different view of a large piece of work.

“He was only looking at the work,” he answered.  “I have seen him do it very often.  He would laugh if he could hear you, Lucia.  Do you imagine he is such a man as that?  Perhaps it would not do him any harm—­a little praying.  But it is a kind of medicine he does not relish.  No, Lucia, you have been deceived, believe me.”