There was colour in his cheeks, too--that rich colour which dark men sometimes have in their youth.

He was of middle height, strong and compactly built, with large, well-made hands that seemed to have more power in them, if less subtle skill, than those of Maestro Marzio.
"Remember what I told you about the second indentation of the acanthus," said the elder workman, without looking round; "a light, light hand--no holes in this work!" Gianbattista murmured a sort of assent, which showed that the warning was not wanted.

He was intent upon the delicate operation he was performing.

Again the hammers beat irregularly.
"The more I think of it," said Marzio after the pause, "the more I am beside myself.

To think that you and I should be nailed to our stools here, weekdays and feast-days, to finish a piece of work for a scoundrelly priest--" "A cardinal," suggested Gianbattista.
"Well! What difference is there?
He is a priest, I suppose--a creature who dresses himself up like a pulcinella before his altar--to--" "Softly!" ejaculated the young man, looking round to see whether the door was closed.
"Why softly ?" asked the other angrily, though his annoyance did not seem to communicate itself to the chisel he held in his hand, and which continued its work as delicately as though its master were humming a pastoral.