"

"My own Antonio!" Marianna whispered softly.

Suddenly a bright glare of torches lightened up the place, and Antonio
felt himself stabbed on the shoulder-blade. Quick as lightning he
turned round, drew his sword, and attacked the fellow, who was aiming a
second stab with his stiletto. He saw that his three friends were
defending themselves against a much stronger force of Sbirri. He
managed to beat off the man who was attacking him, and to join his
friends; but, bravely as they fought, the struggle was too unequal, and
the Sbirri must unfailingly have had the best of it, had not two men
suddenly burst, with loud shouts, into the ranks of the young fellows,
one of whom immediately floored the Sbirro who was taxing Antonio the
hardest.

The fight was now speedily decided to the disadvantage of the Sbirri,
and those of them who were not on the ground wounded, fled with loud
cries towards the Porto del Popolo.

Salvator Rosa--for it was no other who had hastened to Antonio's help,
and struck down the Sbirro--was for starting off without more ado, with
Antonio and the young painters who were in the devils' dresses, after
the Sbirri to town.

Maria Agli, who had come with him, and, notwithstanding his years, had
set to with the Sbirri like the others, thought this was not advisable,
as the guard at the Porto del Popolo, informed of the affair, would of
course arrest them all. So they betook themselves to Nicolo Musso, who
received them gladly in his small abode not far from the theatre. The
painters took off their devils' masks and their cloaks rubbed with
phosphorus; and Antonio--who, save for the unimportant prick in his
shoulder, was not at all hurt--brought his surgical skill into play,
all the others having wounds, though none of any importance.

The plot, so daringly and skilfully contrived, would have succeeded had
not Salvator and Antonio left one person out of account; and that
person ruined it all. Michele, the ex-Bravo and Sbirro, who lived
downstairs in Capuzzi's house, and was a kind of servant to him, had,
by his wish, gone behind him to the theatre, but at some distance, as
the old man was ashamed of his tattered and scoundrelly appearance. In
the same way, Michele had followed on the homeward way; so that, when
the spectres appeared, Michele--who really did not fear death or
devil--smelt a rat, ran, in the darkness, straight away to the Porto
del Popolo, gave the alarm, and came back with the Sbirri,