Moreover, if he forgot to grasp it very
firmly, the vibration of the blow made the palms of his hands sting
till they were numb. At regular intervals the men changed places,
Masin held the drill and Malipieri took the hammer. Every now and then
they raked out the dust from the deepening hole with a little round
scoop made for the purpose and riveted to the end of a light iron rod
a yard long.
Hour after hour they toiled thus together, far down under the palace,
in the damp, close air, that was cold and yet stifling to breathe. The
hole was now over two feet deep.
Suddenly, as Masin delivered a heavy blow, the drill ran in an inch
instead of recoiling in Malipieri's tight hold.
"Bricks," said Masin, resting on the haft of the long hammer.
Malipieri removed the drill, took the scoop and drew out the dust and
minute chips. Hitherto the stuff had been grey, but now, as he held
his hand under the round hole to catch what came, a little bit of dark
red brick fell into his palm. He picked it out carefully and held it
close to the bright unshaded lamp.
"Roman brick," he said, after a moment.
"We are not in Milan," observed Masin, by way of telling his master
that he did not understand.
"Ancient Roman brick," said Malipieri. "It is just what I expected.
This is part of the wall of an old Roman building, built of bricks and
faced with travertine.
Pages:
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126