But the artist himself had been so much moved during the minutes that followed that he could hardly feel sure of Paolo's behaviour.

It was a chilling thought, that Paolo might have understood and might have gone away feeling that his life had been saved almost by a miracle.

He would not come back, the cunning priest, in that case; he would not risk his precious skin in such company.

It was not to be expected--a priest was only human, after all, like any other man.

Marzio cursed his ill luck again as he bent over his work.