Marzios Crucifix and Zoroaster | Page 7

thump a piano and to squeal so that I can hear her in
the shop opposite, and it is better than hanging about the church all the
morning, or listening to Paolo's drivelling talk. By all means keep her
in the kitchen."
It was hard to say whether Signora Pandolfi was puffing or sighing as
she paused for breath upon the landing, but there was probably
something of both in the labour of her lungs. She was used to Marzio.
She had lived with him for twenty years, and she knew his moods and
his ways, and detected the coming storm from afar. Unfortunately, or
perhaps fortunately, for her, there was little variety in the sequence of
his ideas. She was accustomed to his beginning at the grumbling stage
before dinner, and proceeding by a crescendo movement to the pitch of
rage, which was rarely reached until he had finished his meal, when he
generally seized his hat and dragged Gianbattista away with him,
declaring loudly that women were not fit for human society. The daily
excitement of this comedy had long lost its power to elicit anything
more than a sigh from the stout Maria Luisa, who generally bore
Marzio's unreasonable anger with considerable equanimity, waiting for
his departure to eat her boiled beef and salad in peace with Lucia, while

old Assunta sat by the table with the cat in her lap, putting in a word of
commiseration alternately with a word of gossip about the lodgers on
the other side of the landing. The latter were a young and happy pair:
the husband, a chorus singer at the Apollo, who worked at glove
cleaning during the day time; his wife, a sempstress, who did repairs
upon the costumes of the theatre. Their apartments consisted of two
rooms and a kitchen, while Marzio and his family occupied the rest of
the floor, and entered their lodging by the opposite door.
Maria Luisa envied the couple in her sleepy fashion. Her husband was
indeed comparatively rich, and though economical in his domestic
arrangements, he had money in the bank enough to keep him
comfortably for the rest of his days. His violence did not extend beyond
words and black looks, and he was not miserly about a few francs for
dress, or a dinner at the Falcone two or three times a year. But in the
matter of domestic peace his conduct left much to be desired. He was a
sober man, but his hours were irregular, for he attended the meetings of
a certain club which Maria Luisa held in abhorrence, and brought back
opinions which made her cross herself with her fat fingers, shuddering
at the things he said. As for Gianbattista Bordogni, who lived with
them, and consequently received most of his wages in the shape of
board and lodging, he loved Lucia Pandolfi, his master's daughter, and
though he shared Marzio's opinions, he held his tongue in the house. He
understood how necessary to him the mother's sympathy must be, and,
with subtle intelligence, he knew how to create a contrast between
himself and his master by being reticent at the right moment.
Lucia opened the door in answer to the bell her father had rung, and
stood aside in the narrow way to let members of the household pass by,
one by one. Lucia was seventeen years old, and probably resembled her
mother as the latter had looked at the same age. She was slight, and tall,
and dark, with a quantity of glossy black hair coiled behind her head.
Her black eyes had not yet acquired that sleepy look which advancing
life and stoutness had put into her mother's, as a sort of sign of the
difficulty of quick motion. Her figure was lithe, though she was not a
very active girl, and one might have predicted that at forty she, too,
would pay her debt to time in pounds of flesh. There are thin people

who look as though they could never grow stout, and there are others
whose leisurely motion and deliberate step foretells increase of weight.
But Gianbattista had not studied these matters of physiological
horoscopy. It sufficed him that Lucia Pandolfi was at present a very
pretty girl, even beautiful, according to some standards. Her thick hair,
low forehead, straight classic features, and severe mouth fascinated the
handsome apprentice, and the intimacy which had developed between
the two during the years of his residence under Marzio's roof, from the
time when Lucia was a little girl to the present day, had rendered the
transition from friendship to love almost imperceptible to them both.
Gianbattista was the last of the party to enter the lodging, and as he
paused to shut the door, Lucia was still lingering at the threshold.
"Hist! They