"Everything has a beginning!" persisted the dame. "Louis, come forward, and show the maestro what you can do."
The overgrown lad hung his head bashfully; but, on further urging, advanced a pace or two, flung over his arms the frayed skirt of his coat to serve as a drapery, and recited some tragic verses of Dante.
"Not bad!" cried the manager. "What is your name?"
"Louis," replied the lad, bowing.
"Louis—what?"
"Louis only for the present," interposed the hostess, with an air of mystery. "You are not to know his family name. You see—he left home—"
"I understand: the runaway might be caught. Let me hear him in Otello."
Louis, encouraged, recited a brilliant tragic scene. The manager followed his gestures with hands and head, and, when he had ended, applauded loudly, with flashing eyes.
"Bravo! bravo!" he cried, rubbing his hands. "That is what I want! You will make a capital Moor, set in shape a little! I engage you at once, at fifteen ducats a month: and here is the first month's pay in advance for your outfit—a suit of clothes to make you look like a gentleman. Go, buy them, pack up to go with us; and I will have a mule ready for you."
While the impresario made his preparations for departure, the delighted hostess assisted Louis in his. He had spent two or three days roaming about Naples before he came to the hotel, and had some debts to pay. These liquidated, his bill paid at the hotel, and a new suit purchased, nothing remained of his fifteen ducats. In less than two hours the troupe was on its way out of Naples.