sun, came the
insufferable heat, increasing in intensity from day to day, from week to
week. Even the buffaloes lay like dead masses upon the burnt-up grass,
unless, excited to madness by the poison-stings of myriads of flies,
that covered them as if they were carrion, they rushed in mad career to
the Tiber to roll themselves in the yellow water.

One day, towards sunset, I was just opening the door to leave the hut,
when a man darted in so suddenly that I was thrown down. With lightning
speed he shut the door, and in a distressed tone uttered the name of the
Madonna, when a violent blow shattered the door, and the whole opening
was filled with the head of a fierce buffalo, whose body was tightly
squeezed into the doorway. The stranger seized a gun from the wall, took
aim, and shot the beast. The danger over, he lifted me from the ground,
and said: "Blessed be Madonna! You have saved my life." He inquired
about me. I was made to show him my abominable sketches upon bits of
paper and to sing to him, and caused him astonishment at my improvising
about the Madonna and himself and the buffalo. He finally asked Domenica
to bring me next morning to see him at the Borghese Palace. He was the
powerful prince himself, who had unwittingly been the cause of my poor
mother's death!

_II.--In the School of Life_

The prince, his daughter Francesca, and her fiance Fabiani, overwhelmed
me with kindness. The visit had to be frequently repeated; and I became
quite accustomed to the splendours of the palazzo. Finally, Eccellenza
decided to have me educated in the Jesuits' school; and I had to bid
farewell to good Domenica and to enter upon my school life. New
occupations engrossed me; new acquaintances presented themselves; the
dramatic portion of my life began to unfold itself. Here years compress
themselves together.

I became particularly attached to one of my school-fellows, Bernardo, a
gay, almost dissolute son of a Roman senator. When he suddenly left
school to join the Papal Guard the whole world seemed to me empty and
deserted. One day I saw him pass my window on a prancing horse. I rushed
out, but ran across the porter's wife of the Borghese Palace, who
informed me that the young Eccellenza and her husband had just arrived.
Would I not come to give them welcome? To the palace I went, was
graciously received by Fabiani and Francesca, who brought me their
little daughter Flaminia, the "little abbess," as she was called, ha