Marianna walked at the tail of the cart. While her brother was talking she had lifted the box in the hope that it might, after all, be only the empty one that he was bringing back; but the weight of it told her the truth she had read in Armando’s face. “The beast!” she said, “to refuse such a fine thing as that. What did----” Armando signalled silence, and pointed to Sebastiano, who walked ahead. By this time Bertino understood, and he too exclaimed: “The beast!” “Who’s a beast?” asked the muleteer. “That art merchant, whoever he is. Bah! What would you have? In this country a fellow has no chance. What a fool one is to stay here!” “No, no; the country is good,” said Sebastiano, shaking his head and jerking a thumb toward Armando. “But what can you expect when one keeps his Saint Peters a whole year?” The others exchanged knowing glances and followed on in silence. The rest of the way it was plain to all who saw Bertino pass that he was thinking very hard, and with the product of this mental exertion he was fairly bursting by the time they reached Armando’s home, for he had not dared to speak in presence of the carrier. When Juno and the Peacock had been restored to their birthplace he began: “Now, listen to me, _amici_, for I have an idea. I am going to America. Is not that so?” “Yes; you are going to America. Well?” “Patience. You know that as the assistant of my uncle in his great shop in New York I shall be rather a bigger man than I am here. Who knows what I may become?” “Ah, _si_; who knows?” said Marianna. “Listen. Now, let us have a thought together. Here is Armando. He is a fine sculptor. We know that. The proof is here.” He tapped the big box. “But in Genoa they are too stupid and too poor to buy his magnificent work. Now, in America people are neither stupid nor poor. Why can he not make a fortune in America?” “I can’t go to America,” said Armando. “No; he can’t go to America,” chimed in Marianna. “What a foolish idea!” “Excuse me. Who wants him to go to America? He stays in Cardinali and makes statues. I go to New York and sell them. Now, my dears, do you see which way the swallow is flying?” “But----” “But----” “But nothing. Do you think that I, who sail for America to-morrow, do not know what I am about? Listen. What do you suppose I was doing on the way up? Well, I was thinking. I have thought it all out. I ask you this, Armando: Juno and the Peacock you made from a photograph? Very well; can you not make other things from photographs? From New York I shall send you the picture of some great American; some one as great as--as great as----” “Crespi,” suggested Armando, now interested in the project. “Crespi? No, no. Some one greater, like--like----” “D’Annunzio,” Armando ventured again. “Bah! Who is he? I mean some one very great, like----” “I know!” cried Marianna. “Like the Pope!”