life, as I pretended it was, that your verdict
might be unbiassed. This picture, this masterpiece, which all Rome
admires at this moment, is by the hand of Antonio Scacciati, the
surgeon."

The painters glared dumb and motionless at Salvator, like men struck by
lightning. Salvator enjoyed their consternation for a short time, and
then went on to say: "Well, gentlemen, you would not allow Antonio to
come amongst you because he is a surgeon; but I think the Academy of
San Luca is in very great need of a surgeon to mend and set the
crippled arms and legs of the figures which come from the studios of
many of its members. However, I presume you will not longer delay to do
what you ought to have done long ago; that is, to admit this admirable
painter, Antonio Scacciati, a member of your Academy."

The Academicians swallowed Salvator's bitter pill; they said they were
much overjoyed that Antonio had displayed his talent in such a striking
and decided manner, and they elected him a member of the Academy with
much ceremony. As soon as it was known in Rome that Antonio was the
painter of the wonderful picture, there streamed in upon him from all
sides congratulations, and commissions to undertake great and important
works. Thus was this young painter--thanks to Salvator's method of
setting to work--brought, in a moment, out of obscurity, and raised to
high honour, at the very juncture when he had made up his mind to start
upon his career as an artist.

Floating and hovering, as he was, in an atmosphere of happiness and
bliss, it all the more surprised Salvator one day when Antonio came to
him, pale and upset, full of anger and despair. "Ah, Salvator," he
cried, "what does it avail me that you have set me up on a pinnacle,
where I could never have dreamt of being, that I am overwhelmed with
praise and honour, that the prospect of the most delightful and
glorious artistic career opens before me, when I am inexpressibly
unhappy, when the very picture, to which, next to yourself, dear
master, I am indebted for my victory, is the express cause of
irremediable misfortune to me?"

"Silence!" cried Salvator. "Do not commit a sin against your art and
your picture. I don't believe a word as to your irremediable
misfortune. You are in love, and perhaps things are not going in all
respects exactly as you wish; but that is all, no doubt. Lovers are
like children, they cry and yell the moment anybody touches their toy.
Leave off lamentin