ing, lit
up at night--ten thousand lanterns glittering along its marble terraces,
while strains of soft music fill the air? A gentle melody, _figlio mio_,
whispered he to the boy beside him.

'Let them go, in the devil's name!' broke out the old woman, whose harsh
accents at once proclaimed our old acquaintance Donna Gaetana.

'What says she--what says the Donna?' cried three or four of the crowd
in a breath.

'She says that we 'll come back in the daylight, Signori,' broke in the
old man, in terror, 'and sing our native songs of Calabria, and show
our native dances. We know well, O gentle public, that poor ignorant
creatures like ourselves are but too rash to appear before you great
Florentines, citizens of Michel Angelo, dwellers with Benvenuto,
companions of Boccaccio!'

'And not a quatrino among ye!' yelled out the old hag, with a laugh of
scorn.

A wild cry of anger burst from the crowd, who, breaking the circle, now
rushed in upon the strollers.

In vain the Babbo protested, explained, begged, and entreated. He
declared the company to be the highest, the greatest, the richest, he
had ever addressed; himself and his companions the vilest and least
worthy of humanity. He asseverated in frantic tones his belief, that
from the hour when he should lose their favour no fortune would ever
attend on him, either in this world or the next.

But of what avail was it that he employed every eloquence at his
command, while the Donna, with words of insult, and gestures more
offensive still, reviled the 'base rabble,' and with all the virulence
of her coarse nature hurled their poverty in their teeth?

'Famished curs!' cried she. 'How would ye have a _soldo_, when your
nobles dine on parched beans, and drink the little sour wine of
Ponteseive?'

A kick from a strong foot, that sent it through the parchment of the
drum with a loud report, answered this insolent taunt, and gave the
signal for a general attack. Down went the little wooden edifice, which
embodied the life and fortunes of the Don and the fair Princess
of Cordova; down went the Babbo himself over it, amid a crash of
properties, that created a yell of laughter in the mob. All the varied
insignia of the cunning craft, basins and bladders, juggling sticks,
hoops, and baskets, flew right and left, in wild confusion. Up to this
time Gerald had witnessed the wreck unmoved, his whole care being to
keep the crowd from pressing too rudely upon Marietta, who clung to