“On the shore of the lake I met Guido Massarelli; my long absence had made him uneasy, and he was coming to look for me. I opened my heart to him, and he seemed to be greatly touched by my emotion. We sat down in a boat moored to the shore, and talked sentiment, ethics, philosophy, metaphysics, astronomy, and poetry, until the day began to dawn. Guido possessed a very noble intellect. And, indeed, this strange anomaly occurs in the case of many worthless characters, as if to make us doubt the validity of God’s own logic.
“Next day we were on the road again, and some days later were attracting a crowd on the Piazza del Palazzo Vecchio, at Florence. Our receipts were excellent. If we had chosen, we could have travelled to Genoa by wagon. We preferred to walk, however, although our loads, continually augmented by additional figures and scenery, had become very heavy.
“At Genoa, further success, and extraordinary receipts. We became such favorites that we were unable to comply even with the private engagements that were offered us. At first we had simply amused the common people, who gathered on the public square; but passers-by of higher rank had chanced to stop before our booth, and we could not resist the temptation of elevating our dialogue on the occasion to a correspondingly higher intellectual level.
“This was observed, and was spoken of in society. One of these casual listeners was a Marquis Spinola, who invited us to his house to amuse his children. We went masked, as usual, for we made our incognito an express condition of appearing. Our theatre was erected in the garden, and we had for an audience the best and most brilliant society of the city.
“For days afterwards, we knew not which way to turn. Our representations were in the greatest demand, and Guido demanded extremely high prices, which were conceded without hesitation. The mystery with which we surrounded ourselves, the pains we took to remain masked outside of our theatre, and the fantastic names we had assumed, added, no doubt, to our popularity. Every one readily guessed that we were two young men of good family; but while some guessed, also, that it was our own follies that had forced us to become wandering showmen, others tried to persuade themselves that we had adopted this employment merely for our amusement, and on a wager. Some went so far as to insist upon it that we were two young men of the city, who, as we learned later, were very well pleased with the imputation.
“At Nice, at Toulon, everywhere until we reached Marseilles, our progress was a series of triumphs. As we travelled slowly, our fame preceded us, and at every inn where we stopped we heard that persons had already come to inquire after us, and to engage our evenings.
“From Marseilles our success diminished steadily, until we reached Paris. My knowledge of the French language was thorough; and, as I improved daily, I soon freed myself from the Italian accent which had prevented me at first from giving sufficient variety to the intonations of my actors. But Guido’s accent, which was much more pronounced than mine, seemed to become stronger rather than otherwise, and our dialogue suffered in consequence. This, however, scarcely troubled me at all. Our career as professional buffoons was approaching an end, and I flattered myself that I should soon be able to command a more dignified position.”
[5] This is still true, in a great measure. During the last, and in the beginning of this century, the works of the middle ages were regarded with general contempt.
[VI.]
AFTER resting a few moments, Cristiano—we will hereafter call him Christian—continued his narrative as follows: