oundrel of a Pasquale! Will you defraud yourself of
your own Marianna, you dog? Are you going to throw her at that
diabolical rascal's head? The sweet Marianna--your life, your hope,
your all-in-all? Ah, beware! Have a care, deluded blockhead! These
fists shall beat you black and blue, and give you something else to
think about than dinners and marriages."

But the Capuzzi on the stage clenched _his_ fists too, and cried out in
a similar fury, with the same yelling voice: "May all the devils enter
your body! you cursed, senseless Pasquale! Abominable skinflint!--old
amorous goose!--motley fool, with the cap and bells over your ears!
Have a care of yourself, or I will blow the breath of life out of you!
that the mean actions you want to father upon the shoulders of the
good, honourable, upright Pasquale may be put an end to at last."

To an accompaniment of the most furious curses and maledictions of the
Capuzzi beneath, he on the stage proceeded to narrate one scurrilous
story of him after another, finishing off by crying out: "Try if you
dare, Pasquale--amorous old ape!--to interfere with the happiness of
those two young people, destined for each other by heaven."

As he spoke, there appeared at the back of the stage Antonio Scacciati
and Marianna, with their arms about each other. Shaky as the old
gentleman was on his legs, fury gave him strength and agility. At a
bound he was on to the stage, where he drew his sword, and ran at
Antonio. But he felt himself seized from behind; an officer of the
Papal Guard was holding him, and said, in a serious tone: "Consider a
little, Signor Pasquale Capuzzi; you are on Nicolo Musso's stage.
Without being aware of it, you have been playing a most entertaining
part this evening. You will not find Antonio or Marianna here." The two
performers whom Capuzzi had taken to be them had come closer, with the
rest of the actors, and he did not know their faces at all. The sword
fell from his trembling hand; he drew a deep breath, like one waking
from a fearful dream, clasped his forehead, forced his eyes wide open.
The dreadful sense of what had really happened flashed upon him, and he
cried: "Marianna!" in a terrible voice, till the walls re-echoed.

But his calling could no longer reach her ears; for Antonio had
carefully watched for the moment when Capuzzi, oblivious of everything,
even himself, was contending with his counterfeit on the stage, had
then cautiously made his way to Maria