He saw Maddalena take up a modeling tool which lay on a table near her, and begin to help Fabio in altering the arrangement of the hair in his bust.  The young man watched what she was doing earnestly enough for a few moments; then his attention wandered away to Nanina.  She looked at him reproachfully, and he answered by a sign which brought a smile to her face directly.  Maddalena surprised her at the instant of the change; and, following the direction of her eyes, easily discovered at whom the smile was directed.  She darted a glance of contempt at Nanina, threw down the modeling tool, and turned indignantly to the young sculptor, who was affecting to be hard at work again.

“Signor Fabio,” she said, “the next time you forget what is due to your rank and yourself, warn me of it, if you please, beforehand, and I will take care to leave the room.”  While speaking the last words, she passed through the doorway.  Father Rocco, bending abstractedly over his plaster mixture, heard her continue to herself in a whisper, as she went by him, “If I have any influence at all with my father, that impudent beggar-girl shall be forbidden the studio.”

“Jealousy on the other side,” thought the priest.  “Something must be done at once, or this will end badly.”

He looked again at the glass, and saw Fabio, after an instant of hesitation, beckon to Nanina to approach him.  She left her seat, advanced half-way to his, then stopped.  He stepped forward to meet her, and, taking her by the hand, whispered earnestly in her ear.  When he had done, before dropping her hand, he touched her cheek with his lips, and then helped her on with the little white mantilla which covered her head and shoulders out-of-doors.  The girl trembled violently, and drew the linen close to her face as Fabio walked into the larger studio, and, addressing Father Rocco, said: 

“I am afraid I am more idle, or more stupid, than ever to-day.  I can’t get on with the bust at all to my satisfaction, so I have cut short the sitting, and given Nanina a half-holiday.”

At the first sound of his voice, Maddalena, who was speaking to her father, stopped, and, with another look of scorn at Nanina standing trembling in the doorway, left the room.  Luca Lomi called Fabio to him as she went away, and Father Rocco, turning to the statuette, looked to see how the plaster was hardening on it.  Seeing them thus engaged, Nanina attempted to escape from the studio without being noticed; but the priest stopped her just as she was hurrying by him.

“My child,” said he, in his gentle, quiet way, “are you going home?”

Nanina’s heart beat too fast for her to reply in words; she could only answer by bowing her head.

“Take this for your little sister,” pursued Father Rocco, putting a few silver coins in her hand; “I have got some customers for those mats she plaits so nicely.  You need not bring them to my rooms; I will come and see you this evening, when I am going my rounds among my parishioners, and will take the mats away with me.  You are a good girl, Nanina—­you have always been a good girl—­and as long as I am alive, my child, you shall never want a friend and an adviser.”