He was an artist! The habit of his whole existence could not cease to influence him--he could as soon have ceased to breathe.

Lucia watched him and felt something like love for her father.

Her sympathy was with him in both actions; in his silent prayer, in the inner privacy of his working-room, as well as in the inherent love of his art, from which he could not escape even when he was doing something contrary to the whole tenor of his life.

Lucia thought how Don Paolo's face would light up when she should tell him of what she had seen.

Then she wondered, with a delicate sense of respect for her father's secret feelings, whether she would have the right to tell any one what she had accidentally seen through the half-closed door of the studio.
Marzio moved again, and this time he rose to his feet and remained standing, so that the crucifix was completely hidden from her view.