"Whose blood would you like, Sor Marzio ?" "Paolo's!" The chiseller spoke in a scarcely audible whisper, and bent low over his slate, modelling hard at the figure under his fingers.
"I thought so," muttered Gianbattista between his teeth.

Then he raised his voice a little and continued: "And have you the courage, Sor Marzio, to sit there and bargain with me to kill your brother, bribing me with the offer of your daughter's hand?
Why do you not kill him yourself, since you talk of such things ?" "Nonsense, my dear Tista--I was only jesting," said the other nervously.
"It is just like your folly to take me in earnest." The anger had died out of Marzio's voice and he spoke almost persuasively.
"I do not know," answered the young man.

"I think you were in earnest for a moment.

I would not advise you to talk in that way before any one else.

People might interpret your meaning seriously." "After all, you yourself were threatening to cut my throat last night," said Marzio, with a forced laugh.