"Ah!" interposed Salvator, "there can be no question of enmity in a case like this. You are in danger, and that is sufficient reason why the honourable Antonio should devote all his skill to your service. Take hold of him, friend Antonio."
Together they lifted the old man up softly and carefully, and carried him--crying out over the suffering which his broken leg caused him--to Salvator's lodgings.
Dame Caterina declared she had felt quite certain that something was going to happen, and consequently hadn't been able to go to bed. And when she saw the old gentleman and heard what had happened to him, she broke out into reproaches as to his works and ways. "I know well enough, Signor Pasquale, who it was that you were taking home, as usual. You think, as long as you have your pretty niece Marianna at home with you, you don't require any woman to do anything there, and you most shamefully and God-defiantly misuse that poor creature of a Pitichinaccio, whom you dress up in woman's clothes. But remember,ogni carne ha il mio osso--every flesh has its own bones. If you have a girl in the house, you can't do without women.Fate il passo secondo il gamba--don't stretch your legs farther than the bedcover goes, and don't do more, nor less, than what is right for your Marianna. Don't shut her up like a prisoner. Don't turn your house into a gaol.Asino punto convien che trotti--one who has started on the road must go along. You have a pretty niece, and you must arrange your life accordingly; that's to say, you mustn't do what she doesn't wish. But you are an ungallant, hard-hearted man, and (I'm afraid I must say, at your time of life), amorous and jealous into the bargain. You must pardon me for saying all this straight out to your face, but you knowchi ha nel petto fiele, non pu sputar miele--what the heart is full of comes out at the lips. If you don't die of this accident of yours--as, at your time of life, it is to be feared you will--I hope it will be a warning to you, and you'll leave your niece at liberty to do what she wishes, and marry the charming young gentleman whom I think I know about."
Thus did the stream of Dame Caterina's words flow on, whilst Salvator and Antonio carefully undressed the old gentleman and laid him on the bed. Dame Caterina's words were dagger-thrusts, which went deep into his heart; but, whenever he tried to get in a word between them, Antonio impressed on him that anything in the nature of talking was fraught with the utmost danger, so that he was obliged to swallow the bitter pill of her utterances. Salvator at length sent her away to get some iced water, which Antonio had ordered.
Salvator and Antonio convinced themselves that the fellow whom they had employed had done his business most admirably. Beyond one or two blue marks, Capuzzi had not suffered the slightest damage, frightful as his tumble had the appearance of being. Antonio carefully put splints and bandages on his right foot and leg, so that he could not move; and at the same time they wrapped him in cloths soaked in iced water, on the pretext of keeping off fever, so that he shivered as if he were in an ague.
"My good Signor Antonio," he said, in faint accents, "tell me, is it all over with me? Am I a dead man?"
"Do not excite yourself, Signor Pasquale," said Antonio.
"As you bore the first application of the bandages so well, and did not fall into a faint, I hope all danger is over; but the most careful nursing is absolutely essential. The most important point is that the surgeon must not let you be out of his sight for a moment."
"Ah, Antonio!" whined the old gentleman, "you know how fond I am of you--what a high opinion I have of your talent! Don't leave me--give me your dear hand! That is it! My dear, good son, you won't go away from me, will you?"
"Although I am no longer a surgeon," said Antonio, "although I have cast away the abominable slavery of that calling to the four winds of heaven, I do not mind making an exception in your case, Signor Pasquale, and I undertake to cure you. The only thing which I ask of you in return is, that you will give me back your friendship--your confidence; you have been a little hard towards me."
"Say nothing about that," whispered the old fellow; "do not let us allude to it, dear Antonio."
"Your niece," said Antonio, "will be half-dead with anxiety at your not having come home. All things considered, you are wonderfully strong and well, and we will move you to your own house as soon as it is daylight. When we have got you there, I will have another look at your bandages, and see to the bed upon which you are to be laid; and I will tell your niece all that will be necessary to do in your case, so that you may very soon be quite better."
The old gentleman heaved a very deep sigh, closed his eyes, and remained silent for some moments. He then stretched his hand out toward Antonio, drew him close to him, and said, in a whisper: "Tell me, dearest Antonio, I am right, am I not, in supposing that all that about Marianna--my niece--was merely your fun--the sort of jesting which gets into young fellows' heads?"
"I beg you," said Antonio, "not to think about matters of that sort at such a time as this. Put them out of your head altogether. It is certainly true that your niece did attract my eyes a little; but I have very different matters in my mind at present. And--I must tell you quite candidly--I am very glad that you sent me and my foolish attempt to the right about so speedily. I thought I was in love with Marianna, but it was merely that I saw in her a splendid model for my Magdalene. I presume that is why I have become completely indifferent to her since my picture was finished. I have no longer the slightest interest in her."
"Antonio!" cried the old gentleman; "Antonio, blessed of heaven! you are my comfort, my help, my consolation! If you are not in love with Marianna, my troubles are at an end."
"To tell you the truth, Signor Pasquale," said Salvator, "if one did not know you to be a serious man, of great intelligence, very well aware what is suitable to his advanced period of life, one would be disposed to fancy that you were idiot enough to be in love with this niece of yours (a child of sixteen) yourself."
The old man closed his eyes again, and groaned and lamented over the terrible sufferings he was enduring, which had returned with double force.
The morning-red came streaming through the window. Antonio told the old gentleman it was time to take him to his own house in Strada Ripetta. He answered with a deep, melancholy sigh. Salvator and Antonio lifted him out of bed, and wrapped him in a large cloak of Dame Caterina's, which had been her husband's. The old gentleman implored, for the love of all the saints, that the shameful ice-cloths which were upon his bald head should be taken away, and that he should wear his periwig and plumed hat; also that Antonio should, as far as possible, arrange his moustaches, so that Marianna should not be too much alarmed by his appearance. Two bearers, with a litter, were waiting at the door. Dame Caterina, continually scolding at the old gentleman, and quoting proverbs plentifully, brought down bedding, in which, carefully packed, and attended by Salvator and Antonio, he was got home to his own house.
When Marianna saw her uncle in this terrible condition, she gave a loud cry, and a flood of tears burst from her eyes. Without paying any attention to her lover, who was present, she took the old man's hands, pressed them to her lips, and lamented over the sad misfortune which had befallen him. Such was this good girl's compassion for the old fellow who tortured her with his insane fondness for her. All the same the inborn nature of woman within her displayed itself, for a few significant looks of Salvator's were amply sufficient to let her understand the whole position of matters. It was only then that she gave a stolen glance at the happy Antonio, blushing deeply as she did so, and it was marvellous to see how a somewhat roguish smile victoriously dispelled her tears. On the whole, Salvator had never thought that she was so delightful, so wonderfully lovely (notwithstanding the Magdalene picture) as he now found her actually to be. And whilst he almost envied Antonio his good fortune, he felt doubly the necessity of getting the poor girl out of the clutches of the accursed Capuzzi, at whatever cost.
The latter, welcomed in this charming manner (which he by no means deserved) by his delightful niece, forgot his troubles; he smiled, and ogled, working his lips so that his moustaches went up and down; and he groaned and whined, not so much from pain as from amorousness.
Antonio skilfully prepared the bed for his patient, and when he had been laid down upon it, tightened the bandages--and did so to such an extent on the left leg, that the old gentleman had, perforce, to lie as motionless as a wooden doll. Salvator went away, leaving the lovers to their happiness.
The old gentleman was lying buried in cushions, and Antonio had, moreover, so bound a thick cloth soaked in ice-water about his head, that he could not hear a trace of what the lovers were whispering; so they now, for the first time, uttered all that was in their hearts, and vowed eternal fidelity, with tears and the sweetest kisses. The old man could not possibly have any suspicion, as Marianna, every now and then, kept asking him if there was anything he wanted, and even permitted him to press her little white hand to his lips. When it was high day, Antonio hastened away, according to his own statement, to order what was further necessary for the patient, but, in reality, to consider how he might possibly manage to keep him in a still more helpless state, if he could, so that Salvator and he might reflect upon what steps were to be taken in the next place.
A fresh plot which Salvator and Antonio form, and carry out upon Signor Pasquale Capuzzi and his associates; and the results thereof.
On the following morning Antonio came to Salvator, all vexation and anger.
"Well, how goes it?" Salvator cried to him. "What are you hanging your head for, superlatively happy man, who can kiss and caress his darling every day?"
"Ah, Salvator!" answered Antonio; "it is all over with my happiness. The devil delights in making me the sport of his tricks. Our plots have all come to nothing, and we are at open war with the accursed Capuzzi."
"So much the better! so much the better!" said Salvator. "But tell me what has been happening."
"Just imagine, Salvator," said Antonio. "When, yesterday, I was going back to Strada Ripetta, after I had been gone about two hours, bringing all sorts of essences, &c., there I saw the old gentleman standing at his door, completely dressed. At his back were the Pyramid Doctor, and the accursed Sbirro, whilst there was some little many-coloured object running in and out amongst their legs; this, I believe, was that little abortion of a Pitichinaccio. As soon as the old fellow saw me he menaced me with his fist, uttered the most gruesome curses and maledictions, and swore he would have every bone in my body broken if I dared to come to his door. 'Be off with you to all the devils in Hell, cursed Beard-scratcher!' he croaked and screamed at me. 'You thought to make a fool of me, with all sorts of infernal lies and deceptions; you have striven like the very Satan himself to tempt and mislead my Marianna. But wait a little. I will spend my last farthing, if necessary, in getting your life-light snuffed out before you are aware of it. And as for your fine patron, Signor Salvator--the murderer, the robber, the cheat-the-gallows!--he shall to hell to join his leader, Mas' Aniello. Him I'll get kicked out of Rome; that won't give me much trouble.' Thus did the old man rave; and as the cursed Sbirro, egged on by the Pyramid Doctor, made as if he would set on me and attack me, whilst the curious populace began to crowd round, what could I do but get off as quickly as possible? In my despair I thought I should not come to you, for I felt certain you would only laugh--and in fact you hardly can help doing so at this moment."
Indeed, when Antonio ceased speaking, Salvator did laugh heartily.
"Now," he cried, "now the affair is really beginning to become most delightful. But I shall now tell you, circumstantially, my dear Antonio, what happened in Capuzzi's house when you had gone out. Scarcely had you got down-stairs, when Signor Splendiano Accoramboni--who, heaven knows how, had found out that his bosom friend Capuzzi had broken his leg in the night--came, in the most solemn state, to see him, bringing a surgeon with him. Your bandagings, and your whole treatment of Capuzzi, could not but excite some suspicion; the surgeon took the splints and bandages off, and of course found--what we know very well--that there was nothing whatever the matter with Capuzzi's foot; not so much as a sprained ankle. Very well; it did not require much acuteness to find out the rest."
"My dearest Maestro," asked Antonio, full of amazement, "how on earth did you manage to find out all this?--how could you get into Capuzzi's house, and know all that went on?"
"I told you," said Salvator, "that in Capuzzi's house--and in fact on the same storey with him--there lives an acquaintance of Dame Caterina's. This acquaintance, the widow of a wine-merchant, has a daughter whom my little Margerita often goes to see. Girls have a special faculty for finding out others like themselves, and in this way Rosa (the wine-merchant's widow's daughter) and Margerita soon discovered a little peep-hole in the dining-room, which is the next room to a dark chamber which opens into Marianna's room. The whisperings of the girls by no means escaped Marianna's notice, neither did the peephole; so that the way to mutual communications was marked out, and taken advantage of. When the old gentleman is having his afternoon nap, the girls have a right good chatter to their heart's content. You have no doubt noticed that little Margerita (her mother's favourite, and mine) is by no means so grave and reserved as her elder sister Anna, but a droll, merry creature. Without having exactly told her about your love affair, I have asked her to get Marianna to let her know all that goes on in the house. In this she has proved very clever; and if I, just now, laughed a little at your pain and despair, it was because I have it in my power to prove to you that your affairs have just, for the first time, got into an exceedingly favourable groove. I have a whole sackful of delightful news for you."
"Salvator!" cried Antonio, his eyes bright with joy, "what hopes dawn upon me! Blessings on the peephole in the dining-room. I can write to Marianna--Margerita will take the note with her."
"No, no, Antonio," said Salvator, "not quite that; Margerita shall do us good service without being exactly your go-between. Besides, chance--which often plays strange tricks--might place your love-prattle in the hands of old Capuzzi, and bring a thousand new troubles upon Marianna's head, just at the moment when she is on the point of getting the amorous old goose properly and completely under her little satin shoe. For just listen how affairs are progressing. The style in which Marianna received him when he was taken home has turned him round completely. He believes no less a thing than that Marianna has ceased to care for you, but has given one half of her heart to him, so that all he has to do is to get hold of the other half. Since she has imbibed the poison of your kisses, she has all at once become some three years cleverer and more experienced. She has not only convinced the old gentleman that she had nothing to do with our escapade, but that she abhors the idea of it, and would repel with the deepest scorn any plot which should have the object of bringing you into her proximity. In the excess of his delight at this, he vowed that if there should be anything he could do to please her, he would set about it in a moment; she had but to give her wish a name. On this she very quietly said what she would like would be that herzio carissimashould take her to the theatre outside the Porto del Popolo, to see Signor Formica. The old fellow was somewhat startled by this, and consulted with the Pyramid Doctor and Pitichinaccio; and the result is that Signor Pasquale and Signor Splendiano are actually going to take Marianna to the said theatre to-morrow. Pitichinaccio is to be dressed as a waiting-maid; but he only consented to this on condition that Pasquale should give him a periwig, over and above the plush doublet, and that he and the Pyramid Doctor should relieve each other, from time to time, of the task of carrying him home at night. This has been all agreed upon; and this remarkable three-bladed-clover will really go, to-morrow evening, with beautiful Marianna, to see Signor Formica, at the theatre outside the Porto del Popolo."
It is necessary now to say something as to this theatre, and Signor Formica himself.
Nothing can be sadder than when, at carnival time in Rome, theimpressariihave been unfortunate in their composers--when theprimo tenoreof the Argentina has left his voice on the road--when theprimo uomo da donnain the Teatro Valle is down with the influenza--in short, when the chief pleasures to which the Romans have been looking forward have proved disappointments, and Giovedi Grasso has been shorn, at one fell swoop, of all the hoped-for flowers which were expected to come at that time into blossom. Immediately alter a melancholy carnival of this description (in fact, the fasts were scarcely over) a certain Nicolo Musso opened a theatre outside the Porto del Popolo, limiting himself to announcing the performance of minor, improvisedbuffonades. His advertisement was couched in a clever and witty style of wording, and from it the Romans formed in advance a favourable opinion of Musso's undertaking, and would have done so even had they not, in the unsatisfied state of their dramatic appetites, been eager to snatch at anything of the kind that was offered to them. The arrangements of the theatre--or rather of the little booth--could not be said to give evidence of any very flourishing state of finances on the manager's part. There was no orchestra; there were no boxes. There was a sort of gallery at the back of the audience part of the house, adorned with the arms of the Colonnas--a mark that the Conte Colonna had taken Murso and his theatre under his special protection. The stage was a raised platform covered with carpets, and surrounded with gay-coloured paper-hangings which had to serve for forests, interiors, or streets, according to the requirements of the drama. As, moreover, the audience had to be content with hard, uncomfortable wooden benches to sit upon, it is not matter for wonder that the first set of spectators expressed themselves pretty strongly on the subject of the audacity of Signor Musso in giving the name of a theatre to this boarded booth. But scarcely had the two first actors who appeared spoken a few words, when the audience became attentive. As the piece went on, the attention became applause, the applause astonishment, and the astonishment enthusiasm, which expressed itself in the most prolonged and stormy laughter, hand-clapping, and cries of bravo!
And, in truth, nothing more perfect could have been seen than those improvised representations of Nicolo Musso's which sparkled with wit, fun, andesprit, castigating the follies of the day with unsparing lash. The performers all rendered their parts with incomparable distinctiveness of character, but the "Pasquarello" more particularly carried the house away with him bodily, by his inimitable play of gesture, and a talent for imitating well-known personages, in voice, walk, and manner, by his inexhaustible drollery, and the extraordinary originality of the ideas which struck him. This actor, who called himself Signor Formica, seemed to be inspired by a very remarkable and unusual spirit; often, in his tone and manner, there would be a something so strange that the audience, while in the middle of a burst of the heartiest laughter, would suddenly feel a species of cold shiver. Almost on a par with him, and a worthy compeer, was the "Dr. Graziano" of the troupe, who had a play of feature, a voice, a power of saying the most delightful things in, apparently, the most foolish manner, to which nothing in the world could be likened. This "Doctor Graziano" was an old Bolognese, of the name of Maria Aglia. As a matter of course, all the fashionable world of Rome soon came thronging to the little theatre outside the Porto del Popolo. The name of Formica was on everybody's lips; and in the streets as in the theatre, all voices were crying, with the utmost enthusiasm, "Oh, Formica! Formica benedetto! Oh, Formicisimo!" He was looked upon as a supernatural being; and many an old woman, ashake with laughter in the theatre, would (if anybody ventured to criticise Formica's action in the slightest degree) turn grave, and say, with the utmost seriousness and solemnity--
"Scherza coi fanti e lascia star santi."
This was because, out of the theatre, Formica was an unfathomable mystery. No one ever saw him anywhere, and every attempt to come upon his traces was vain. Nothing as to where he lived could be got out of Musso.
Such was the theatre to which Marianna wished to go.
"Let us fly straight at our enemies' throats," Salvator said; "the walk home from the theatre to the town offers us a most admirable opportunity."
He then communicated a plan to Antonio, which seemed very risky and daring, but which the latter adopted with delight, thinking it would enable him to rescue his Marianna from the abominable Capuzzi; moreover, it pleased him well that Salvator made one great feature of it the punishing of the Pyramid Doctor.
When evening came, Salvator and Antonio each took a guitar, went to Strada Ripetta, and (by way of annoying old Capuzzi) treated the lovely Marianna to the most exquisiteserenataimaginable. For Salvator played and sang like a master, and Antonio had a lovely tenor voice, and was almost an Odoardo Ceccarelli. Signor Pasquale of course came out on to the balcony, and scolded down at the singers, ordering them to hold their peace; but the neighbours, whom the beautiful music had brought to their windows, cried out to him, asking him whether, as he and his friends were in the habit of howling and screaming like all the demons in hell, he wouldn't suffer such a thing as a littlegoodmusic in the street? Let him be off into the house, they said, and stop his ears, if he didn't want to hear the beautiful singing. Thus Signor Pasquale was obliged, to his torture, to endure Salvator and Antonio's singing, all night long--songs which at times consisted of the sweetest words of love, and at others ridiculed the folly of amorous old men. They distinctly saw Marianna at the window, and heard Pasquale adjuring her, in the most honeyed terms, not to expose herself to the night air.
The next evening there passed along the street towards the Porto del Popolo the strangest group of persons ever seen. They attracted all eyes, and people asked each other if some strange survival of the Carnival had preserved two or three mad maskers. Signor Pasquale Capuzzi, in his many-coloured, well-brushed Spanish suit, a new yellow feather in his steeple-crowned hat, tightly belted and buckled, all tenderness and grace, tripping along on shoes too tight for him, as if treading on eggs, conducted on his arm the lovely Marianna, whose pretty figure, and still more beautiful face, could not be seen, in consequence of the extraordinary manner in which she was wimpled and wrapped up in a cloak and hood. On her other side tripped along Signor Splendiano Accoramboni in his enormous wig, which covered the whole of his back, so that, when seen from behind, he looked like some enormous head moving along on two diminutive legs. Close behind Marianna, almost clinging on to her, came, in crab-like fashion, the little hideosity of a Pitichinaccio, in flame-coloured female dress, with his hair bedecked, in the most repulsive style, with flowers of all the colours of the rainbow.
On this particular evening Signor Formica even surpassed himself; and--what he had never done before--he introduced little snatches of songs, imitating various well-known singers. In old Capuzzi this awoke all the old delight in theatrical matters which in former days had been a regular mania with him. He kissed Marianna's hands over and over again, and vowed that he certainly would bring her to Nicolo Musso's theatre every night without fail. He extolled Signor Formica to the very skies, and joined most heartily in the uproarious applause of the rest of the audience. Signor Splendiano was less content, and repeatedly begged Signor Capuzzi and Marianna not to laugh so very immoderately. He named, in one breadth, some twenty maladies which were liable to be brought on by over-agitation of the diaphragm; but neither the one nor the other gave themselves any trouble on the subject. Pitichinaccio was thoroughly unhappy. He had been obliged to sit just behind the Pyramid Doctor, who so overshadowed him with his enormous wig that he could not see the smallest peep of the stage, nor of the characters upon it; moreover, he was tortured by two facetious women who were sitting beside him, and who kept on calling him "Charming, pretty signora," and asking him whether he was married, for all he was so young, and had nice little children, who must be the dearest little things imaginable, &c., &c. Drops of cold perspiration stood on the poor little creature's brow; he whimpered and whined, and cursed the hour when he was born.
When the acting was over, Signor Pasquale waited till every one had left the house; and as the last of the lamps was being put out, Signor Splendiano lighted at it the stump of a wax candle, and they set forth on their homeward way. Pitichinaccio whined and cried; Capuzzi, to his torment, had to take him on his left arm, having Marianna on his right; before them went Doctor Splendiano with his candle-stump, whose feeble rays made the darkness of the night seem deeper.
While they were still some distance from the Porto del Popolo, they found themselves suddenly surrounded by several tall figures, thickly wrapped in cloaks. The Doctor's candle was instantly snatched from his hand, and went out on the ground. Capuzzi and the Doctor stood speechless and amazed. Then there fell (it was not clear from whence) a faint reddish glimmer upon the cloaked figures, and four pale death's-heads were seen staring at the Pyramid Doctor, with hollow, fearful eyes. "Woe! woe! woe unto thee, Splendiano Accoramboni!" howled the terrible spectres, in deep, hollow tones. Then one of them wailed out, "Knowest thou me? knowest thou me, Splendiano? I am Cordier, the French painter, buried last week; sent under-ground by thee, with thy drugs!" Then the second: "Knowest thoume, Splendiano? I am Kueffner, the German painter, whom thou didst poison with thy hellish electuaries!" Then the third: "Knowest thoume, Splendiano? I am Liers, the Fleming, whom thou didst murder with thy pills, cheating his brother out of his pictures!" Then the fourth: "Knowest thoume, Splendiano? I am Ghigi, the Neapolitan painter, whom thou didst slay with thy powders!" Finally, all the four cried out in quartet, "Woe! woe to thee, Splendiano Accoramboni, accursed Pyramid Doctor! Thou must away!--away with us!--down, down under the earth! On!--on with thee! Halloh!--halloh!" Therewith they seized the luckless Doctor, heaved him up, and disappeared with him like the storm-wind.
Sorely as terror was like to overcome Pasquale, he collected himself, and took heart of grace with wonderful courage, when he saw that this affair only concerned his friend Accoramboni. Pitichinaccio had put his head, flowers and all, under Pasquale's cloak, and was clinging so tightly about his neck that it was impossible to shake him off.
"Recover yourself," said Capuzzi to Marianna, when nothing more was to be seen of the spectres or of the Pyramid Doctor. "Recover yourself! Come to me, my sweet, darling little dove! My good friend Splendiano is gone. May Saint Bernard, who was a doctor himself, stand by him and defend him, if those revengeful painters, whom he sent to that Pyramid of his rather before their time, are going to twist his windpipe. Ah! who will take the bass parts in my canzonet now, I should like to know? And this creature here, Pitichinaccio, is squeezing my throat to that extent that, what with that, and what with the fright at seeing Splendiano spirited away, I dare say it'll be three months good before I can get out a single note in tune! Don't you be frightened, my own sweetest Marianna!--it is all over."
Marianna declared that she had quite recovered from the fright, and only begged him to let her walk by herself to enable him to get quit of his troublesome lap-child; but he only held her the tighter, and vowed that no consideration in the world would induce him to allow her to venture a single step by herself in the terrible darkness.
Just then, as Capuzzi was going to step courageously forward, there suddenly rose before him, as if from the depths of the earth, four terrible-looking figures of devils, in short cloaks of glittering red, who glared at him with fearful eyes, and began making a horrible croaking and squeaking. "Hup! hup!" they cried. "Pasquale Capuzzi!--idiotic fool!--amorous old donkey! We are comrades of yours; we are love-devils; and we have come to carry you down to the hottest hell, you and your bosom-friend there, Pitichinaccio!" Thus screaming, the devils fell upon Capuzzi, and he, with Pitichinaccio, went down, both of them raising piercing yells of distress like those of a whole herd of beaten donkeys.
Marianna had forcibly torn herself away from the old fellow, and sprung to one side, where one of the devils folded her softly in his arms, and said, in a sweet voice of affection: "Oh, Marianna! my own Marianna! it has all come right at last. My friends are taking the old man a long distance off, while we find some place of safety to fly to."
"My own Antonio!" Marianna whispered softly.
Suddenly a bright glare of torches lightened up the place, and Antonio felt himself stabbed on the shoulder-blade. Quick as lightning he turned round, drew his sword, and attacked the fellow, who was aiming a second stab with his stiletto. He saw that his three friends were defending themselves against a much stronger force of Sbirri. He managed to beat off the man who was attacking him, and to join his friends; but, bravely as they fought, the struggle was too unequal, and the Sbirri must unfailingly have had the best of it, had not two men suddenly burst, with loud shouts, into the ranks of the young fellows, one of whom immediately floored the Sbirro who was taxing Antonio the hardest.
The fight was now speedily decided to the disadvantage of the Sbirri, and those of them who were not on the ground wounded, fled with loud cries towards the Porto del Popolo.
Salvator Rosa--for it was no other who had hastened to Antonio's help, and struck down the Sbirro--was for starting off without more ado, with Antonio and the young painters who were in the devils' dresses, after the Sbirri to town.
Maria Agli, who had come with him, and, notwithstanding his years, had set to with the Sbirri like the others, thought this was not advisable, as the guard at the Porto del Popolo, informed of the affair, would of course arrest them all. So they betook themselves to Nicolo Musso, who received them gladly in his small abode not far from the theatre. The painters took off their devils' masks and their cloaks rubbed with phosphorus; and Antonio--who, save for the unimportant prick in his shoulder, was not at all hurt--brought his surgical skill into play, all the others having wounds, though none of any importance.
The plot, so daringly and skilfully contrived, would have succeeded had not Salvator and Antonio left one person out of account; and that person ruined it all. Michele, the ex-Bravo and Sbirro, who lived downstairs in Capuzzi's house, and was a kind of servant to him, had, by his wish, gone behind him to the theatre, but at some distance, as the old man was ashamed of his tattered and scoundrelly appearance. In the same way, Michele had followed on the homeward way; so that, when the spectres appeared, Michele--who really did not fear death or devil--smelt a rat, ran, in the darkness, straight away to the Porto del Popolo, gave the alarm, and came back with the Sbirri, who, as we know, arrived just at the moment when the devils fell upon Signor Pasquale, and were going to take him away, as the dead men had taken the Pyramid Doctor.
Bat in the thick of the fight, one of the young painters had distinctly seen a fellow hurrying away towards the gate with Marianna, in a fainting state, in his arms, followed by Pasquale, who was rushing along at an incredible rate, as if his veins were running quicksilver. There was, moreover, some glimmering object visible by the torch-light hanging on to his cloak, and whining, probably Pitichinaccio.
Next morning Doctor Splendiano was discovered at the Pyramid of Cestius, rolled up in a ball and immersed in his periwig, fast asleep, as though in a warm, soft nest. When they woke him, he talked incoherently, and it was hard to convince him that he was still in this visible life and, moreover, in Rome. When, at length, he was taken to his house, he thanked the Virgin and all the Saints for his rescue, threw all his tinctures, essences, electuaries, and powders out of window, made a bonfire of his recipes, and for the future healed his patients in no other manner than by laying his hands upon them and stroking them, as a celebrated physician used to do before him (who was a Saint into the bargain, but whose name I cannot think of at the moment), with much success, for his patients died as well as the other's, and before their deaths saw heaven open, and anything that the Saint pleased.
"I do not know," said Antonio, next day, to Salvator, "what fury has blazed up within me since some of my blood was spilt. Death and destruction to the miserable, ignoble Capuzzi! Do you know, Salvator, that I have made up my mind to get into his house by force; and if he makes any resistance, I will run him through, and carry Marianna off."
"Glorious idea!" exclaimed Salvator. "A truly happy inspiration. I have no doubt you have also devised the means of carrying Marianna through the air to the Piazza di Spagna, so that you may reach that place of sanctuary before they have arrested you and hanged you! No, no, dear Antonio, there is nothing to be done in this affair by violence, and you may be quite certain that Signor Capuzzi will be too well prepared for anything in the shape of an open attack. Besides this, our escapade has attracted a great deal of attention; and more than that, the laughable style in which we set about our little piece of entertainment with Splendiano and Capuzzi has had the effect of waking the police up from their gentle slumbers, so that they will now be on the watch for us, as far as their feeble powers enable them. No, Antonio, we must resort to stratagem: 'Con arte e con inganno si vive mezzo l'anno; con inganno e con arte si vive l'altro parte.' That is what Dame Caterina says, and she is quite right. I can't help laughing at our having set to work just as if we were innocent boys; but it is my fault, chiefly, seeing that I have the advantage of you in years. Tell me, Antonio, if our plot had succeeded, and you had really carried Marianna off, where should you have gone with her?--where could you have kept her hidden?--how could you have got married by the priest so speedily that the old man should not have managed to interfere? As it is, in a very few days you shall actually carry her off. I have enlisted the aid of Nicolo Musso and Formica, and in conjunction with them thought out a plan which scarcely can break down. Comfort yourself, therefore, Signor Formica is going to help you."
"Signor Formica!" repeated Antonio, in an indifferent, almost contemptuous tone; "and pray how can that 'funny-man' help me?"
"Ho, ho!" cried Salvator, "I must beg you to treat Signor Formica with a proper amount of respect. Don't you know that he is a kind of wizard, and has all sorts of wondrous secret arts at his command? I tell you, Signor Formica is going to help you. And old Maria Agli, our great and grand 'Doctor Graziano,' of Bologna, has joined in our plot, and is going to play a most important part in it. You shall carry your Marianna off from Musso's theatre."
"Salvator," said Antonio, "you are buoying me up with vain hopes. You have said, yourself, that Capuzzi will be thoroughly on his guard against any more open attacks; so, after what has happened to him already, how can he possibly be induced to go to Musso's theatre another time?"
"It is not such a difficult matter as you suppose," answered Salvator, "to get him to go back there again; the difficulty will be to induce him to go without his companions, and to get him on to the stage. But however that may be, you must now arrange matters with Marianna so as to be ready to fly from Rome whenever the favourable moment arrives. You will have to go to Florence. Your art will be an introduction to you there to begin with, and I will take care that you shall not want for friends, or for valuable support and assistance. We shall have to rest on our oars for a few days, and then we shall see what more is to be done. Keep up your courage. Formica will help."
A Fresh Misfortune Comes Upon Signor Pasquale Capuzzi. Antonio Scacciati Carries Out A Plot At Musso's Theatre, And Flies To Florence.
Signor Pasquale knew but too well who were the authors of the trick played upon him and the poor Pyramid Doctor near the Porto del Popolo; and we can imagine his rage with Antonio and with Salvator Rosa, whom he rightly considered to be the prime mover in the matter. He did his utmost to console Marianna, who was quite ill, from the fright--as she put it--but really from disappointment and vexation at the accursed Michele's having carried her off, with his Sbirri, from Antonio. Meanwhile, Margarita industriously brought her tidings of her lover, and she based all her hopes and expectations upon the enterprising Salvator. She waited most impatiently from day to day for anything in the shape of fresh events, and vented her vexation upon the old gentleman by a thousand teasings and naggings, which rendered him humble and submissive in his foolish amourishness, but had not the effect of in any degree casting out the love-devil by which he was possessed. When Marianna had poured out upon his devoted head a full measure of all the evil caprices of a selfish girl, she had only to suffer him to press his withered lips a single time upon her little hand, and he would vow, in the excess of his delight, that he would never leave off kissing the Pope's slipper till he had obtained his dispensation to marry his niece, quintessence as she was of all beauty and loveliness. Marianna was careful to do nothing to disturb this condition of delight, for those rays of hope of her uncle's made her own to shine brighter--her hopes of being all the nearer escaping him, the more firmly he believed himself to be united to her by bonds which were indissoluble.
Some time had elapsed when, one day, Michele came stumping upstairs and announced to his master (who opened the door after a good deal of knocking), with much prolixity, that there was a gentleman below who insisted, most urgently, on speaking with Signor Pasquale Capuzzi, who, he was aware, lived in that house.
"Oh, all ye heavenly hosts!" cried the old gentleman, in a rage, "doesn't this lubber know as well as possible that I never speak with strangers in the house!"
But Michele said the gentleman was very well-looking, rather elderly, and spoke exceedingly nicely, saying his name was Nicolo Musso.
"Nicolo Musso!" said Capuzzi, thoughtfully to himself; "Nicolo Musso, who has the theatre outside the Porta del Popolo! What can he want with me?" He carefully closed and bolted the door, and went down with Michele to talk with Nicolo in the street.
"My dear Signor Pasquale," said Nicolo, greeting him with an easy courtesy, "how very much delighted I am that you honour me with your acquaintance! How many thanks I owe you! Since the Romans sawyou--the man of the most acknowledged taste, of the most universal knowledge, the virtuoso in art--in my theatre, my reputation, and my receipts, have been doubled. All the more does it pain me that some wicked, malicious fellows should have made a murderous attack upon you and your party as you were going home from my theatre at night. For the love of all the Saints, Signor Pasquale, do not form a prejudice against me and my theatre on account of an affair of this sort, which could scarcely have been anticipated. Do not deprive me of your patronage."
"My good Signor Nicolo," said Capuzzi, flattered, "let me assure you that I never, anywhere, found more pleasure than in your theatre. Your Formica, your Agli, are actors, whose equals have still to be discovered; but the alarm which brought my friend Splendiano Accoramboni--and indeed myself as well--nearly to death's door, was too severe. It has closed to me for ever, not your theatre, but the road to it. Open your theatre in the Piazza del Popolo, or in Strada Babuina, or Strada Ripetta, and I shall never miss a single evening; but no power on earth would induce me to set foot outside the Porto del Popolo at night."
Nicolo sighed as if possessed by profound sorrow. "That hits me hard," he said; "harder than you perhaps may suppose, Signor Pasquale. I had based all my hopes upon you. In fact, I came to implore your assistance."
"My assistance!" echoed the old gentleman; "my assistance! In what way could that be of any use to you, Signor Nicolo?"
"My dear Signor Pasquale," answered Nicolo, passing his handkerchief over his eyes as if wiping away a tear or two, "you will have observed that my actors occasionally introduce a little aria or so here and there; and my idea was to carry that further gradually; bring a small orchestra together, and finally evade prohibitions so far as to start an opera. You, Signor Capuzzi, are the first composer in all Italy, and it is only the incredible frivolity of the Romans, and the envy of theMaestri, that are to blame for the circumstance that anything except your compositions is to be heard on the stage. Signor Pasquale, I came to beg you, on my knees, to allow me to represent your immortal works in my theatre."
"My good Signor Nicolo!" cried the old fellow, with bright sunshine in his face, "why are we talking here in the public street? Will you be kind enough to climb up a steep flight of stairs, and come with me into my humble dwelling?"
As soon as he got into the room with Nicolo, he hauled out a great packet of dusty music-manuscript, opened it up, turned pages over, and began that frightful yelling and screeching which he called "singing." Nicolo demeaned himself like one enraptured. He sighed, he groaned; he cried "bravo!" from time to time, and "Bravissimo! Benedetto Capuzzi!" At length, as if in an excess of blissful enthusiasm, he fell at the old man's feet, and clasped his knees, hugging them so very tightly, however, that Capuzzi gave a great bound to try and shake him off, screamed with the pain, and cried out: "All the Saints! let me go, Signor Nicolo! you'll be the death of me!"
"No!" cried Nicolo. "No, Signor Pasquale! I will not rise from this spot till you promise to let me have that heavenly aria which you have just rendered so magnificently, so that Formica may sing it two nights hence on my stage."
"You are a person of some taste," sighed Pasquale; "a man of insight; to whom, rather than to you, should I intrust my compositions? You shall take all my arias with you (Oh! oh! do let me go!) but, oh heavens! I shall not hear them--my heavenly masterpieces! (Oh, oh! let go my legs, Signor Nicolo!)"
"No!" cried Nicolo, still on his knees, and firmly grasping the old man's spindle-shanks like a vice. "No, Signor Pasquale! I will not let you go till you give me your word that you will come to my theatre the evening after to-morrow. Have no fear of being attacked again. You may be certain that, when the Romans have heard those arias of yours, they will carry you home triumphantly in a torchlight procession. But even if they do not, I and my trusty comrades will arm, and escort you safely home."
"You and your comrades will escort me home, will you?" Pasquale inquired; "how many of them might there be?"
"Eight or ten people will be at your disposal, Signor Pasquale. Make up your mind; decide upon coming, and yield to my earnest prayers."
"Formica," lisped Pasquale, "has a capital voice; how hewouldsing my arias!"
"Decide on it," cried Nicolo once more, grasping the old man's legs tighter than ever.
"You promise me," said Pasquale; "you undertake to be responsible that I get safe home without being set upon?"
"Upon my life and honour," said Nicolo, giving the legs an extra grip.
"Done!" cried the old gentleman. "The evening after to-morrow I shall be at your theatre."
Nicolo jumped up, and pressed the old man to his heart with such violence that he coughed and gasped for breath.
At this juncture Marianna came in. Pasquale tried to restrain her by casting a grim look at her, but in vain. She went straight to Musso, and said angrily: "It is of no use your trying to entice my dear uncle to go to your theatre again. Remember that the horrible trick played upon me by abandoned villains who have a plot against me nearly cost my darling uncle and his worthy friend Splendiano their lives, not to mention myself. Never will I allow him to run such a risk again. Cease your attempts, Nicolo. Dearest uncle! you will stay quietly at home, will you not, and never venture outside the Porto del Popolo again in the treacherous night, which is no one's friend?"
This came upon Signor Pasquale like a clap of thunder. He gazed at his niece with eyes widely opened; and presently addressed her in the sweetest language, explaining to her at much length that Signor Nicolo had taken the responsibility of making such arrangements that there should be no possible risk of danger on the homeward way.
"For all that," answered Marianna, "my opinion remains the same, and I implore you most earnestly, dearest uncle, not to go. Excuse me, Signor Nicolo, for speaking clearly in your presence, and uttering the dark presentiment which I so strongly feel. I know that Salvator Rosa is a friend of yours, and I have no doubt so is Antonio Scacciati. How if you were in collusion with my enemies? How if you are tempting my uncle (who, I know, will not go to your theatre unless I am with him) only to have a surer opportunity of carrying out some fresh plot against him?"
"What an idea!" cried Nicolo, as if horrified. "What a terrible suspicion to entertain, Signora! Have you had such an evil experience of me in the past? Is my reputation such that you believe me capable of such a frightful piece of treachery? But if youdothink so badly of me--if you have no confidence in the help I have promised--you can bring Michele (who was so useful in rescuing you on the former occasion), and let him bring a good force of Sbirri, who could be waiting for you outside; as you could scarcely expectmeto fill my house with Sbirri."
Marianna, looking him steadfastly in the eyes, said earnestly: "Since you suggest that, I see that you mean honourably, Signor Nicolo, and that my evil suspicions of you were unfounded. Pray forgive my thoughtless words. Yet I cannot overcome my anxiety, and my fear for my dearest uncle, and I again beg him not to venture upon this dangerous expedition."
Signor Pasquale had listened to the conversation with strange looks, which clearly testified to the contest within him. He could now restrain himself no longer; he fell on his knees before Marianna, seized her hands, kissed them, covered them with tears which streamed from his eyes, and cried, as if beside himself: "Heavenly and adored Marianna! the fire in my heart breaks forth into flame! Ah! this anxiety, this fear on my account; what are they but the sweetest admissions of your love for me?" He entreated her not to allow herself to be alarmed in the very slightest degree, but to hear, on the stage, the most lovely of the arias which the divinest of composers ever had written.
Nicolo, too, continued the most pathetic entreaties, until Marianna declared she was persuaded, and promised to lay aside all fear, and go with her dear uncle to the theatre outside the Porto del Popolo.
Signor Pasquale was in the seventh heaven of bliss. He had the full conviction that Marianna loved him, and he was going to hear his own music on the stage, and gather the laurels which he had so long been striving for in vain. He was on the very point of finding his fondest dreams realized, and he wanted his light to shine in all its glory on his faithful friends. His idea, therefore, was that Signor Splendiano and little Pitichinaccio should go with him, just as they had done on the former occasion.
But in addition to the spectres who had carried him off, all manner of direful apparitions had haunted Signor Splendiano on the night when he slept in his periwig near the Pyramid of Cestius. The whole burying-ground seemed to have come to life, and hundreds of the dead had stretched their bony arms out at him, complaining loudly concerning his essences and electuaries, the tortures of which were not abated even in the tomb. Hence the Pyramid Doctor, though he could not contradict Signor Pasquale when he held that the whole thing was only a trick performed by a parcel of wicked young men, continued to be in a melancholy mood; and though, formerly, he was not greatly prone to anything in the nature of superstition, he now saw spectres everywhere, and was sorely plagued with presentiments and evil dreams.
As for Pitichinaccio, nothing would persuade him that those devils who fell upon him and Signor Pasquale were not real and veritable demons from the flames of hell, and he screamed aloud whenever any one so much as alluded to that terrible night. All Pasquale's assurances that it was only Antonio Scacciati and Salvator Rosa who were behind those devil's masks were unavailing; for Pitichinaccio vowed, with many tears, that, notwithstanding his terror, he distinctly recognized the fiend Fanfarell, by his voice and appearance, and that said Fanfarell had beaten his stomach black and blue.
It may be imagined what trouble Signor Pasquale had to persuade the Pyramid Doctor and Pitichinaccio to go with him again to Musso's theatre. Splendiano did not agree to do so until he had succeeded in getting from a monk of the Order of St. Bernard a consecrated bag of musk (the smell whereof neither dead men nor devils can abide), with which he was proof against all attacks. Pitichinaccio could not resist the promise of a box of grapes in sugar, but Signor Pasquale had to expressly agree that he was not to wear female attire (which, he thought, was what had brought the devils upon him), but go in his Abbate's costume.
What Salvator had dreaded seemed thus to be about to insist on happening, although, as he declared, his whole plot depended for success upon Signor Pasquale and Marianna going by themselves, without the faithful companions, to Musso's theatre.
Both he and Antonio cudgelled their brains how to keep Splendiano and Pitichinaccio away; but there was not time enough to carry out any plan having that for its aim, as the great stroke itself had to be struck on the evening of the next day. But heaven--which often employs the oddest tools in the punishment of foolish folk--interposed, in this instance, in favour of the lovers, and so guided Michele that he gave the rein to his natural dunderheadedness, and by that means brought about what the skill of Salvator and Antonio was powerless to accomplish.
On that self-same night there suddenly arose, in Strada Ripetta before Pasquale's house, such a terrible swearing, shouting, and quarrelling that all the neighbours started from their sleep, and the Sbirri (who had been after a murderer who took sanctuary in the Piazza di Spagna), supposing there was another murder going on, came hurrying up with their torches. When they, and a crowd of people attracted by the noise who came with them, arrived on the scene of the supposed murder, what was seen was poor little Pitichinaccio lying on the ground as if dead; Michele belabouring the Pyramid Doctor with a frightful cudgel, and the said Doctor in the act of falling down; whilst Signor Pasquale, picking himself up with difficulty, drew his sword, and began furiously lunging at Michele. All round lay fragments of shattered guitars. Several people stopped the old gentleman's arm, or he would infallibly have run Michele through the body. The latter (who, now that the torches had come, saw, for the first time, who it was that he had to do with), stood like a statue, with eyes staring out of his head. Presently He emitted a terrific yell, tore his hair, and implored forgiveness and mercy. Neither the Pyramid Doctor nor Pitichinaccio were seriously hurt, but they were so stiff, and so black and blue, that they could not move a muscle, and had to be carried home.
Signor Pasquale had brought this trouble upon his own pate. We are aware that Salvator and Antonio had favoured Marianna with the most beautiful night-music imaginable, but I have forgotten to add that they went on repeating it on succeeding nights, tremendously infuriating Signor Pasquale; his anger was held in check by the neighbours, and he was silly enough to apply to the authorities to prevent the two painters from singing in Strada Ripetta. The authorities considered it an unheard of thing in Rome to forbid anybody singing whenever he chose, and said it was absurd to demand it. On this Signor Pasquale determined to put an end to the thing himself, and promised Michele a good sum of money if he would fall upon the singers and give them a good cudgelling on the first opportunity. Michele at once provided himself with a big stick, and kept watch every night behind the door. However, it happened that Salvator and Antonio thought it advisable to discontinue the night-music in Strada Ripetta on the nights immediately preceding the execution of their plot, so that nothing might suggest ideas of his enemies to the old man. And Marianna innocently remarked that, much as she hated Salvator and Antonio, she would have been very glad to hear their singing, for their music, soaring on the breeze in the night, surpassed everything.
Pasquale took mental note of this, and, as an exquisite piece of gallantry, determined to delight and surprise his beloved with a serenata, composed by himself, and carefully rehearsed with his companions. So the very night before the projected visit to the theatre he slipped secretly out and fetched his two associates, who were prepared beforehand. But no sooner had they struck the first chords on their guitars than Michele (whom his master had unfortunately forgotten to warn of what was going to happen), in high glee at the near prospect of earning the promised reward, burst out at the door, and set to work unmercifully becudgelling the musicians. What happened afterwards we know. Of course it was out of the question that either Splendiano or Pitichinaccio could go with Pasquale to the theatre, as they were lying in their beds covered all over with sticking-plaster. But Signor Pasquale could not refrain from going himself, although his shoulders and back smarted not a little from the licking he had had; every note of his aria was a rope dragging him there irresistibly.
"Now that the obstacle which we thought insurmountable has cleared itself out of the way of its own accord," said Salvator to Antonio, "everything depends upon your adroitness in not letting slip, when it comes, the proper moment for carrying your Marianna off from Nicolo's theatre. But you will not fail; and I greet you already as the bridegroom of Capuzzi's beautiful niece, who will be your wife in a few days. I wish you every happiness, Antonio, although it goes to my very marrow when I think of your marriage."
"What do you mean, Salvator?" asked Antonio.
"Call it whim, or fanciful idea, Antonio," he answered; "the long and the short of it is, I love women; but every one of them, even her whom I am madly in love with, for whom I would gladly die, affects my mind with an apprehension which raises in me the most inexplicable and mysterious shudder the moment I think of a union with her such as marriage would be. The unfathomable element in woman's nature mockingly sets all the weapons of our sex at complete defiance. She whom we believe to have devoted herself to us with her whole being--to have opened to us the innermost recesses of her nature--is the first to deceive us, and with the sweetest kisses we imbibe the most destroying poison."
"And my Marianna?" asked Antonio, aghast.
"Pardon me, Antonio," answered Salvator; "even your Marianna, who is sweetness and delightsomeness personified, has given me a fresh proof how constantly we are menaced by the mysterious nature of woman. Remember how that innocent, inexperienced child behaved when we took her uncle home to her; how, at one glance of mine, she comprehended the whole situation, and played her part, as you said yourself, with the most amazing ability. But that was not to be named in the same day with what happened when Musso went to see the old man. The most practised skill, the most impenetrable craftiness--in short, every art of the woman most accomplished and experienced in the ways of the world--could suggest nothing more than what little Marianna did, in order to throw dust in the old man's eyes with the most absolute assurance of success. She could not possibly have acted with greater talent to make the road clear for us, whatever our undertakings were to be. The campaign against the insane old fool was legitimate--every kind of trick and artifice seems justified; still, however, dear Antonio, don't let my dreamer's fancies influence you too much, and be as happy with your Marianna as ever you can."
If only some monk had accompanied Signor Pasquale as he was on his way to Musso's theatre with Marianna, everybody must have thought the strange pair were being taken to the place of execution; for ahead of them marched Michele, truculent in aspect, and armed to the teeth; and he was followed by well on to twenty Sbirri, who were surrounding Signor Pasquale and Marianna.
Nicolo received the old gentleman and the lady with much solemnity of ceremony, and conducted them to the places reserved for them close in front of the stage. Much flattered at being thus honoured, Signor Pasquale looked about him with proud, beaming glances; and his pleasure was increased by the circumstance that there were none but women round and behind Marianna. Behind the scenes, on the stage, one or two violins and a bass were being tuned, and the old gentleman's heart beat high with anticipation, and a sort of electric shock pierced through his joints and marrow when all at once the ritornello of his aria sounded.
Formica came on as Pasquarello, and sang, with the gestures most peculiarly characteristic of Capuzzi, and in his very voice, that most atrocious of all arias. The theatre resounded with the audience's most uproarious laughter. People shouted out: "Ah! Pasquale Capuzzi! Compositore--Virtuoso celeberrimo! Bravo, bravissimo!" The old man, not observing the tone of the laughter, was all delight. When the aria ended, the audience called for silence; Doctor Graziano (played on this occasion by Nicolo) came on, holding his ears, and calling out to Pasquarello to cease his din, and not make such an insane crowing. He proceeded to ask Pasquarello when he had taken to singing, and where he had picked up that abominable tune. Pasquarello said he did not know what the Doctor meant, and that he was just like the Romans, who had no taste for real music, and left the finest talents in neglect. The aria, he said, was by the greatest of living composers and virtuosi, whose service it was his good fortune to be in, and who himself gave him lessons in music and singing. Graziano went over the names of a number of well-known composers and virtuosi, but at each renowned name Pasquarello disdainfully shook his head.
At length he said the Doctor showed gross ignorance in not knowing the very greatest composer of the day--none other than Signor Pasquale Capuzzi, who had done him the honour to take him into his service. Could he not see that Pasquarello was the friend and servant of Signor Pasquale?
The Doctor broke into an immoderate fit of laughter and cried: "What! had Pasquarello, after servinghim, where, besides wages and food, many a goodquattrinofell into his mouth, gone to the very greatest and most accomplished skinflint and miser that ever swallowed macaroni?--to the motley Carnival-fool, who strutted about like a turkey-cock after a shower?--to that cur, that amorous old coxcomb, who poisons the air in Strada Ripetta with that disgusting goat-bleating which he calls 'singing?'" &c., &c.
To this Pasquarello answered quite angrily, that it was mere envy on the Doctor's part. To speak with his heart in his hand (parla col cuore in mano) the Doctor was by no means in a position to pass a judgment on Signor Pasquale Capuzzi di Senegaglia. To speak heart in hand, the Doctor himself had a pretty good dash of all which he was finding fault with in the admirable Signor Pasquale. Speaking, as he was, heart in hand, he had often, himself, known some six hundred people or so to laugh with all their throats at Doctor Graziano himself. And then Pasquarello held forth at great length in praise of his new master, Signor Pasquale, attributing to him all possible excellences, and finishing with a description of his character, which he made out to be absolutely perfect as regarded amiability and lovableness.
"Blessed Formica!" whispered Signor Capuzzi aside to himself, "I see that you have determined to render my triumph complete, by rubbing the noses of the Romans in all the envy and ingratitude with which they have persecuted me, and showing them clearly whom and what I am."
"Here comes my master himself," cried Pasquarello; and there came on to the stage Signor Capuzzi, as he lived and moved, in dress, face, walk, and manner--in all respects so exactly similar to the Capuzzi down in the audience part of the house, that the latter, quite alarmed, let go his hold of Marianna (whom he had been holding up to this time with one hand), and rubbed his nose and periwig, as if to find out whether he was awake or dreaming of seeing his own double, or really in Nicolo Musso's theatre, obliged to believe his eyes, and infer that he did see this miraculous appearance.
The Capuzzi on the stage embraced Doctor Graziano with much amity, and inquired after his welfare. The Doctor said his appetite was good, at his service (per servir-lo), and his sleep sound; but that his purse laboured under a complete depletion. Yesterday, in honour of his lady love, he said, he had spent his last ducat in buying a pair of rosemary stockings, and he was just going to certain bankers to see if they would lend him thirty ducats.
"How could you think of such a thing?" cried Capuzzi. "Why pass the door of your best friend? Here, my dear sir, are fifty ducats; pray accept them."
"Pasquale, what are you doing?" cried the Capuzzi down in the audience, half aloud.
Doctor Graziano talked of giving a bill and paying interest; but the stage Capuzzi vowed he could not think of taking either from such a friend as the Doctor. "Pasquale! are you crazy?" cried the Capuzzi below, louder.
Doctor Graziano made his exit here, after many grateful embracings. Pasquarello then went forward, with lowly reverences; lauded Signor Capuzzi to the skies; saidhis(Pasquarello's) purse was afflicted with the same malady as the Doctor's, and begged for some of the same medicine. The Capuzzi on the stage laughed, saying he was glad that Pasquarello knew how to take advantage of his good dispositions, and threw him two or three shining ducats.
"Pasquale, you're mad! the devil's in you!" the audience-Capuzzi cried, very loudly. The audience called him to order. Pasquarello waxed still louder in Capuzzi's praise, and came, at length, on the subject of the arias which he (Capuzzi) had composed, with which he (Pasquarello) was in hopes of charming the world. Capuzzi on the stage patted Pasquarello on the shoulder, and said he could confide to a faithful servant likehim, that the truth was that he really knew nothing whatever about music, and that the aria he had been mentioning, like all the arias he had ever written, was cribbed from Frescobaldi's canzone, and Carissimi's motets.
"You lie, you scoundrel, in your throat!" screamed the Capuzzi below, rising from his seat. "Silence!--sit down!" cried the audience; the women who were sitting near him dragged him down into his place.
The stage-Capuzzi went on to say it was time, now, to come to matters of more importance. He wanted to give a large dinner the next day, and Pasquarello must set to work briskly to get together all the requirements. He drew out of his pocket a list of the most expensive and recherché dishes, and read it aloud; as each dish was mentioned, Pasquarello had to say how much it would cost, and the money was handed to him on the spot.
"Pasquale!--idiotic fool!--madman!--spendthrift!--prodigal!" cried the Capuzzi below, in crescendo, after the mention of the several dishes, and grew more and more angry the higher the total bill for this most unheard-of of all dinners became.
When at length the list was gone through, Pasquarello asked Signor Pasquale's reason for giving so grand a dinner; and Capuzzi (on the stage) replied: "To-morrow will be the happiest day of all my life. Let me tell you, my good Pasquarello, that to-morrow I celebrate the wedding-day, rich in blessings, of my dear niece Marianna. I am giving her hand to that fine young fellow, the greatest of all painters, Scacciati."
Scarce had the Capuzzi on the stage uttered those words, than he of the audience, quite beside himself, and incapable of further self-control, sprang up, with all the fury of a demon in his face of fire, clenched both his fists at his counterfeit, and screamed out at him, in a yelling voice: "That you shall not!--that you shall never! you infernal scoundrel of a Pasquale! Will you defraud yourself of your own Marianna, you dog? Are you going to throw her at that diabolical rascal's head? The sweet Marianna--your life, your hope, your all-in-all? Ah, beware! Have a care, deluded blockhead! These fists shall beat you black and blue, and give you something else to think about than dinners and marriages."
But the Capuzzi on the stage clenchedhisfists too, and cried out in a similar fury, with the same yelling voice: "May all the devils enter your body! you cursed, senseless Pasquale! Abominable skinflint!--old amorous goose!--motley fool, with the cap and bells over your ears! Have a care of yourself, or I will blow the breath of life out of you! that the mean actions you want to father upon the shoulders of the good, honourable, upright Pasquale may be put an end to at last."
To an accompaniment of the most furious curses and maledictions of the Capuzzi beneath, he on the stage proceeded to narrate one scurrilous story of him after another, finishing off by crying out: "Try if you dare, Pasquale--amorous old ape!--to interfere with the happiness of those two young people, destined for each other by heaven."
As he spoke, there appeared at the back of the stage Antonio Scacciati and Marianna, with their arms about each other. Shaky as the old gentleman was on his legs, fury gave him strength and agility. At a bound he was on to the stage, where he drew his sword, and ran at Antonio. But he felt himself seized from behind; an officer of the Papal Guard was holding him, and said, in a serious tone: "Consider a little, Signor Pasquale Capuzzi; you are on Nicolo Musso's stage. Without being aware of it, you have been playing a most entertaining part this evening. You will not find Antonio or Marianna here." The two performers whom Capuzzi had taken to be them had come closer, with the rest of the actors, and he did not know their faces at all. The sword fell from his trembling hand; he drew a deep breath, like one waking from a fearful dream, clasped his forehead, forced his eyes wide open. The dreadful sense of what had really happened flashed upon him, and he cried: "Marianna!" in a terrible voice, till the walls re-echoed.
But his calling could no longer reach her ears; for Antonio had carefully watched for the moment when Capuzzi, oblivious of everything, even himself, was contending with his counterfeit on the stage, had then cautiously made his way to Marianna, and taken her through the audience to a side door, where the Vetturino was waiting with the carriage; and away they were driven towards Florence as fast as they could go.
"Marianna!" the old man continued crying. "She has gone!--she has flown!--the villain Antonio has robbed me of her! Away!--after her! Good people, have pity! Get torches; search for my dove! Ha, the serpent!"
And the old man was making off; but the officer held him fast, saying: "If you mean the pretty young girl who was sitting by you, I rather fancy I saw her slip out with a young fellow--Antonio Scacciati, I believe,--some considerable time ago, just as you were beginning that useless, silly quarrel with the actor who had on a mask something like you. Signor Pasquale, it is my duty to arrest you, on account of your behaviour, and the murderous attack upon the actor."
Signor Pasquale, with pale death in his face, incapable of uttering a word or a sound, was marched off by the very Sbirri who had come there to protect him from masquerading demons and spectres. Thus there fell upon him deep distress and sorrow, and all the wild despair of a foolish and deceived old amorous fool, on the very night when he looked to celebrate his greatest triumph.