"Superb!" exclaimed the lad.
"And such an admirable comic actor; a figure that is one laugh, and a wit like Sancho Panza's; a genius, too, for the pathetic; he weeps to enchantment, and will bring tears to your eyes after a convulsion of mirth. An unrivalled troupe! a coronet of gems—wanting only an actor of tragedy!"
The boy sighed, and cast his eyes on the ground.
"And you must travel," pleaded the landlady. "You are not safe here in Naples. You may be taken, and carried back to the conservatorio."
This last argument had effect. The lad sprang to his feet.
"Back to school, to be punished for a runaway—when you might do such wonders! Come, you are ready, I see. There is no time to be lost."
She took the boy by the hand and led him into the grand salon of the hotel. Here sat the manager of an Italian theatrical company, in absolute despair. He and his troupe were to leave Naples in an hour. For three days he had staid beyond his time, seeking what the city did not afford—an actor of tragedy; and he was now bitterly lamenting to his landlord the ill luck that would compel him to depart for Salerno destitute of so important an adjunct.
"What shall I do?" cried the impresario, wringing his hands, "without a Geronimo or a Falerio?"
"You may yet find an actor," suggested the good-natured host.
"He must drop, then, from the clouds, and at once! My friends at Salerno have twice put off the performance, waiting for me. Saint An