The Professore was quite impressed as he watched the master printer demonstrate his new press, a machine that only a week ago was being removed in pieces and parts from the hold of an English merchantman.

"It is a fine addition to your new and improved printing house, Don Cesare. I am intrigued by the system of gears to turn the cylinders. It seems quite an advancement over the old style roller presses I was familiar with in Torino, not all that long ago."

The Master printer, Don Cesare smiled as he showed the Professore how easily he turned the handles of the press, pulling the bed forward with little effort, smoothly feeding the paper under the inked copper plate.

"I am indebted to you, Signore, for your help in securing the financing for these new machines and all the new type. I have every confidence you will not be disappointed with the returns on your investment as we move into full production."

"Ah, well, investments are one thing," replied the Professore, "but the greatest reward will be in seeing the impact of the publications and prints you soon will be churning out with greater speed and efficiency...and at a more affordable cost to those who will benefit from your enhanced productivity, no?"

The master printer nodded as the gears turned and the paper slid through the roller press. I can assure you I will not miss our poor old Gutenberg press...may she rest in peace."

"What did you do with the beast? She was old enough to be far better suited to a place in a cabinet of curiosities than on the shop floor of a modern printing house."

"Ah, the apprentices hauled it off. They may have sold it for scrap, or maybe they are hiding it somewhere to start a competing business of their own. I don't really care," answered Don Cesare. "If that is their plan, then good luck to them is all I can say."

When the bed reached the end of its trip, the printer pulled off the finished print and began examining it, looking for flaws. As he held it up by the window to scrutinize, he frowned slightly and said in a quiet and very serious tone, "speaking of headstrong young men, what of those two fellows, Signor Dieter and Don Mercurio? As the elder Magistrato shouldn't you try to dissuade them from this foolishness?"

Don Aldo merely shrugged and sighed. "There are limits to what I can do in these matters of honor..."

Before the Professore could finish his sentence, a soldier of the Guardia came rushing in, somewhat out of breath, his white uniform coat stained with the perspiration of his exertions. "Magistrato," he huffed, "Don Alfonso sends his regards and wishes to inform you that a brig has arrived with a guest of significance from North Africa, and this gentleman has news for you...news, he says, that you will find to be a disappointment...in fact, a tragedy of some consequence, it seems..."

The Printer and the Profressore looked at each other, and as if at a signal, both sighed and shrugged, almost in unison.

"Many thanks for the demonstration, Don Cesare," said Don Aldo with only a hint of resignation in his voice. "It would seem I shall have to call again some other time to see the new English common press at work."

The Printer nodded and moved to the line to hang the print to dry. The Professore meanwhile turned back to the soldier of the Guardia once more. "Come, my good fellow...would you be so kind as to show me to this guest that I may hear his information first-hand?"

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