Antonio was not a little surprised, the next morning, when Salvator gave him the most minute account of Capuzzi's whole manner of life, which, in the interval, he had found out all about. Salvator said the miserable Marianna was tortured by the crack-brained old scoundrel in the most fiendish manner. That he sighed, and made love to her all day long; and, what was worse, by way of touching her heart, sang to her all sorts of amorous ditties and arias which he had composed, or attempted to compose. Moreover, he was so madly jealous that he would not allow this much-to-be-compassionated girl even the usual female attendance, for fear of love-intrigues to which the Abigail might possibly be corrupted. "Instead of that," Salvator went on, "there comes, every morning and evening, a little horrible, ghastly spectre of a creature, with hollow eyes, and pale, flabby, hanging cheeks, to do what a maid-servant ought to do for the beautiful Marianna. And this spectre is none other than that tiny hop-o-my-thumb Pitichinaccio, dressed in woman's clothes. When Capuzzi is away, he carefully locks and bars all the doors; and besides that, watch and ward is kept by that infernal fellow who was once a Bravo, afterwards a Sbirro, who lives downstairs in Capuzzi's house. Therefore it seems impossible to get inside the door. But I promise you, Antonio, that to-morrow night you shall be in the room with Capuzzi, and see your Marianna, though, this time, only in Capuzzi's presence."
"What!" cried Antonio, "is that which appears to me an impossibility going to come to pass to-morrow night?"
"Hush, Antonio!" said Salvator; "let us calmly reflect how the plan which I have hit upon is to be carried out. To begin with, I must tell you that I have a certain connection with Signor Capuzzi which I was not aware of. That wretched spinett standing in the corner there is his property, and I am supposed to be going to pay him the exorbitant price of ten ducats for it. When I had got somewhat better after my illness, I had a longing for music, which is consolation and recreation to me. I asked my landlady to get hold of an instrument of that sort for me. Dame Caterina soon found out that a certain old fellow in Strada Ripetta had an old spinett for sale. It was brought here, and I troubled myself neither about the price nor about the owner. It was only last night that I discovered that it was our honourable Signor Capuzzi who was going to swindle me with his old, broken-down instrument. Dame Caterina had applied to an acquaintance who lives in the house with Capuzzi, and, in fact, on the same storey; so that now you see where I got all my information from."
"Ha!" cried Antonio; "thus is the means of admission discovered. Your landlady----"
"I know what you are going to say," said Salvator. "You think the way to your Marianna is through Dame Caterina. That would never do at all. Dame Caterina is much too talkative; she can't keep the most trifling secret, and is therefore by no means to be made use of in our undertaking. Listen to me, quietly. Every evening, when the little Castrato has done the maid-servant work, Signor Pasquale Capuzzi carries him home in his arms, difficult as that job is, considering the shakiness of his own old knees. Not for all the world would the timorous Pitichinaccio set foot on the pavement at that time of the night. Very good; when----"
At this moment a knock came to Salvator's door, and, to the no small astonishment of both, in came Signor Pasquale Capuzzi in all his glory. As soon as he saw Scacciati he stood still, as if paralysed in every limb, opened his eyes wide, and panted for air as if his breath would fail him. But Salvator hurried up to him, took him by both hands, and cried out: "My dear Signor Pasquale! how highly honoured I am that you should visit me in my humble lodging. Doubtless it is the love of art that brings you. You wish to look at what I have been doing lately; perhaps you are even going to honour me with a commission. Tell me, dear Signor Pasquale, wherein I can do you a pleasure."
"I have to speak with you," stammered Capuzzi, with difficulty, "dear Signor Salvator; but, alone; when you are by yourself. Allow me to take my departure for the present, and come back at a more convenient time."
"By no means, my dear Signor," said Salvator, holding the old man fast. "You must not go. You could not possibly have come at a more convenient time, for, as you are a great honourer of the noble art of painting, it will give you no small joy when I present to you here Antonio Scacciati, the greatest painter of our time, whose glorious picture, the marvellous 'Magdalene at the Saviour's feet,' all Rome regards with the utmost enthusiasm. No doubt you are full of the picture, like the rest, and have been anxious to make the painter's acquaintance."
The old man was seized by a violent trembling. He shook like one in the cold stage of a fever, sending, the while, burning looks of rage at Antonio; who, however, went up to him with easy courtesy, declaring that he thought himself fortunate to meet Signor Pasquale Capuzzi, whose profound knowledge of music, as well as of painting, not only Rome, but all Italy admired, and he recommended himself to his protection.
It restored the old fellow to his self-control that Antonio treated him as if he met him for the first time, and addressed him in such flattering terms. He forced himself to a sort of simpering smile, and (Salvator having let go his hands) softly stroked the points of his moustaches heavenwards, stammered a few unintelligible words, and then turned to Salvator, whom he attacked on the subject of the payment of the ten ducats. "We will settle that every-day little affair afterwards," said Salvator. "First let it please you to look at the sketches which I have made for a picture, and, as you do so, to drink a glass of good Syracuse." Salvator placed his sketches on the easel, drew up a chair for the old gentleman, and, when he had seated himself, handed him a large, beautiful goblet, in which the noble Syracuse was sparkling.