timulus to
the thoughts and ideas of the company. Thus, the dining-hall had the
appearance of a beautiful shrubbery, containing sweet-smelling bushes
and flowers and gurgling springs; and the very dishes, served by
singularly-attired pages, had a wonderful appearance, as if they came
from some far-off enchanted land. These assemblages of poets and
_savants_ in Salvator Rosa's house were at the time known as the
Academia de' Percossi.

But although Salvator occupied his mind in this manner with art and
science, his inmost heart was cheered by his friend Antonio Scacciati,
who was living a happy artistic life, free from care, with the
beautiful Marianna. They used to think, sometimes, of the old deceived
Signor Pasquale, and all that took place in Nicolo Musso's theatre. And
Antonio asked Salvator how he had managed to interest not only Musso,
but the wonderful Formica and Agli, in his affairs, to employ their
talents on his behalf as they had done. Salvator said it had been an
easy matter, inasmuch as Formica had been his most intimate friend in
Rome, and always delighted to carry out upon the stage anything that he
had suggested to him. Antonio declared that, much as he was unable
still to help laughing when he thought of the occurrence which had made
no happiness, he wished, from his heart, for a reconciliation with the
old man, even although he should never touch a farthing of Marianna's
fortune (which the old man had taken possession of), seeing that his
art brought him money enough. Marianna, too, could often not restrain
her tears at the thought that her father's brother would never till his
dying day forgive the trick that had been played upon him; and thus
Pasquale's hatred cast a sorrowful shadow upon her happy life. Salvator
comforted them both with the thought that time cures much harder
matters, and that chance might perhaps bring the old man to them in a
much less dangerous manner than if they had remained in Rome, or were
to go back there now.

We shall find that a spirit of prophecy dwelt in Salvator. A
considerable time had elapsed, when one day Antonio burst into
Salvator's studio, breathless, and pale as death. "Salvator!" he cried;
"my friend! my protector!--I am lost unless you help me! Pasquale
Capuzzi is here, and has got a warrant to arrest me for carrying off
his niece."

"But what can Pasquale do to you now?" asked Salvator. Has not the
Church united Marianna and you?"

"Alas!" answered Ant