"Ho, ho!" chuckled the old man fondly; "you're just like me, Tonin: work is play when it happens to be stone-work. Do your cherries, if you have the mind." "Hurrah! I can finish them to-day, and I'll do a pear next, and--see, grandfather, by carnival-time I'll have plenty to sell," and throwing open the door of a small rude cupboard set in the branches of a stunted acacia, Tonin proudly displayed a collection of peaches, apples, and grapes which his skilful fingers had wrought out of fragments of stone left from old Pasino's cuttings. Next autumn, when all the villagers and country folk of the province would assemble at Asolo for their carnival and yearly frolic, Tonin would peddle his pretty fruit among the pleasure-seekers, confident of filling his purse-bag with coins in exchange for his wares. As he stood reviewing his handiwork, he smiled slyly at thought of the gifts he would buy for the two old people who adored him, and who had freely shared with him their roof and bread, from his earliest infancy. The stone-cutter's earnings were necessarily small, and for two years Tonin had assisted him regularly at his work, cutting, carrying, measuring, and delivering day by day. He seconded Pasino's efforts so intelligently, and labored through the long hours with such manly patience, that the scanty comforts in the Alpine cabin visibly increased, and all the while the boy was learning the use of the cunning edged tools which his grandfather wielded so dexterously. The lad's name, as it appeared on the parish register, was Antonio, but to the guileless aged pair who cared for him he was simply and always _Tonin_. Hoof-beats, accompanied by a shout from the roadway, caused the stone-cutter and the boy to hurry quickly to the hedgerow before the cabin. A mounted horseman wearing the livery of the Duke d'Asolo called out, as with difficulty he brought his spirited steed to a standstill,-- "Pasino, you are wanted at the villa. Something in the picture gallery needs to be done, and you are the only one to do it. The duke gives a great banquet to-night, and the room must be in readiness. Vittori sent me, and bids you to hurry as fast as you can." "I'll follow you at once. Come, Tonin, mayhap you can be of service at the villa also." Off galloped the messenger, and down the road marched Pasino Canova, bearing his tool-box upon his shoulder, while his barefooted grandson, similarly equipped, trudged cheerily by his side. The stone-cutter was frequently in demand at the Villa d'Asolo, for besides the craft of his trade, the old man understood something of the uses of plaster, stucco, and even marble. No other workman in this remote hill country was so skilled, and for many years he had received the friendly patronage of Giovanni Falier, Duke d'Asolo. On the way, Pasino stopped for an instant before the entrance of a gentleman's country residence. "This'" said he, "is the home of Toretto, the great, great sculptor."