“I must follow the direction toward which it points.”
“Just what is this ‘big thing’ you have undertaken?” interrupted Uncle Peabody. “You forget that I have not yet been taken into your confidence.”
Armstrong turned to his questioner seriously. “I have really stumbled upon something which has not been done before and which ought to have been undertaken long ago. You see, Cerini has there at the library hundreds of letters which belong to the Buonarroti archives. Many of them were written by Michelangelo, and many more were written to him. The correspondence is between him and men in all walks of life—popes, kings, princes, tradesmen, and even some from the workmen in the Carrara quarries.”
“And you and Miss Thayer are translating these letters?” Uncle Peabody anticipated.
“Yes; but that is not the work which most interests me, except indirectly. Any number of volumes have been published upon the life and manners and customs of every age before and since that in which Michelangelo lived, yet practically nothing concerning this particular period. The artistic importance of the epoch has been written up with minute detail, but the intimate life of the people and its significance seems to have been wholly overlooked—probably because it was overshadowed. Very few of these letters have ever been printed, and they ought to form the basis of a great work upon this subject. Cerini has turned them over to me to see what I can do with them. At first I started with the idea of going through everything myself, but that would be a hopeless task unless we plan to live in Florence indefinitely. Now, Miss Thayer reads over the letters and takes out the important data, leaving me free to work on the book itself. We are really making splendid progress, and I shall be bitterly disappointed if Miss Thayer has to go away and leave me to finish it alone.”
“I am sure Inez will stay as long as she can, Jack,” Helen said, quietly. “She knows how welcome she has been, but we must not urge her beyond what she thinks is best.”
She broke off suddenly; then, with an assumed nonchalance, said: “I wonder if I could not help in some way and thus get the work completed just that much sooner. Of course, I don’t understand Italian, but perhaps I could do some copying or something. Don’t you think three would accomplish more than two, Jack, even if one of them was a weak sister?”
Helen looked over to her husband with obvious expectancy, but she could not fail to notice the momentary hush.
“I know how ridiculous my proposition sounds,” she continued, bravely, “but I would really like to try.”
“Why, of course,” Armstrong replied, hastily. “Miss Thayer’s suggestion to leave and your willingness at last to come to my rescue have combined to give me two unexpected shocks—one unpleasant, the other delightful. Let me see. Miss Thayer and I have been developing a kind of team work, so this means a little readjustment.”