oundering down with him through the open
door right into the middle of the street. There they remained lying
prostrate, Capuzzi nethermost, and the drunken fellow on the top of
him, like a heavy sack. Capuzzi screamed pitifully for help, and
immediately there appeared two men, who, with much pains, eased Capuzzi
of his burden, the drunken fellow, who went staggering away as they did
so.

The two men were Salvator and Antonio, and they cried, "Jesus! what has
happened to you, Signor Capuzzi? What are you doing here at this time
of the night? You seem to have had some bad business going on in the
house."

"It's all over with me," groaned Capuzzi; "the hellhound has broken
every bone in my body. I can't move a muscle."

"Let us see--let us see!" said Antonio; and he felt him all over,
giving him, in the course of his examination, a pinch in the right leg
of such shrewdness that Capuzzi uttered a yell.

"Saints and angels!" ejaculated Antonio, "your right leg is broken just
at the most dangerous place. If it is not attended to immediately, you
are a dead man; or, at the very least, lamed for life."

Capuzzi uttered a frightful howl. "Calm yourself, my dear Signor," said
Antonio. "Although I am a painter now, I have not forgotten my surgery.
We will carry you into Salvator's lodgings, and I will bandage you
properly at once."

"Dear Signor Antonio," whined Capuzzi, "you are inimically minded
towards me, I am aware."

"Ah!" interposed Salvator, "there can be no question of enmity in a
case like this. You are in danger, and that is sufficient reason why
the honourable Antonio should devote all his skill to your service.
Take hold of him, friend Antonio."

Together they lifted the old man up softly and carefully, and carried
him--crying out over the suffering which his broken leg caused him--to
Salvator's lodgings.

Dame Caterina declared she had felt quite certain that something was
going to happen, and consequently hadn't been able to go to bed. And
when she saw the old gentleman and heard what had happened to him, she
broke out into reproaches as to his works and ways. "I know well
enough, Signor Pasquale, who it was that you were taking home, as
usual. You think, as long as you have your pretty niece Marianna at
home with you, you don't require any woman to do anything there, and
you most shamefully and God-defiantly misuse that poor creature of a
Pitichinaccio, whom you dress up in woman's clothes. But remember