"
"And who is he! (Unwind me a yard or two of that black lace.)"
"The master-sculptor, Luca Lomi--an old family, once noble, but
down in the world now. The master is obliged to make statues to
get a living for his daughter and himself."
"More of the lace--double it over the bosom of the dress. And how
is sitting to this needy sculptor to make your fortune?"
"Wait a minute. There are other sculptors besides him in the
studio. There is, first, his brother, the priest--Father Rocco,
who passes all his spare time with the master. He is a good
sculptor in his way--has cast statues and made a font for his
church--a holy man, who devotes all his work in the studio to the
cause of piety."
"Ah, bah! we should think him a droll priest in France. (More
pins.) You don't expect _him_ to put money in your pocket,
surely?"
"Wait, I say again. There is a third sculptor in the
studio--actually a nobleman! His name is Fabio d'Ascoli. He is
rich, young, handsome, an only child, and little better than a
fool. Fancy his working at sculpture, as if he had his bread to
get by it--and thinking that an amusement! Imagine a man
belonging to one of the best families in Pisa mad enough to want
to make a reputation as an artist! Wait! wait! the best is to
come. His father and mother are dead--he has no near relations in
the world to exercise authority over him--he is a bachelor, and
his fortune is all at his own disposal; going a-begging, my
friend; absolutely going a-begging for want of a clever woman to
hold out her hand and take it from him.
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