"Formica," lisped Pasquale, "has a capital voice; how he _would_ sing 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 you _do_ think 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 expect _me_ to 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 p.r.o.ne to anything in the nature of superst.i.tion, 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 h.e.l.l, and he screamed aloud whenever any one so much as alluded to that terrible night. All Pasquale's a.s.surances 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, surpa.s.sed 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 rehea.r.s.ed with his companions. So the very night before the projected visit to the theatre he slipped secretly out and fetched his two a.s.sociates, 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 s.e.x 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 a.s.surance 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 circ.u.mstance that there were none but women round and behind Marianna. Behind the scenes, on the stage, one or two violins and a ba.s.s were being tuned, and the old gentleman's heart beat high with antic.i.p.ation, 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 serving _him_, where, besides wages and food, many a good _quattrino_ fell 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-c.o.c.k after a shower?--to that cur, that amorous old c.o.xcomb, 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 pa.s.s 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 ingrat.i.tude 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 appet.i.te 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 pa.s.s 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; said _his_ (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 like _him_, 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 recherche 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 clenched _his_ fists 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!