tonished to receive a formal
invitation from the Academia de' Percossi. "Ha!--indeed!" he cried.
"One sees that Florence is the place where they know how to esteem
merit; where a man endowed with such gifts as Signor Pasquale Capuzzi
di Senegalia chances to possess, is properly appreciated."

Thus the thought of the amount of artistic knowledge which he
possessed, and of the honours which were being paid to him in
consequence, overcame the repugnance which he would otherwise have
entertained to an assemblage which had Salvator Rosa, at its head. The
Spanish state costume was brushed more carefully than usual; the
steeple-crowned hat adorned with a new feather; the shoes set off with
fresh bows of ribbon; and Signor Pasquale made his appearance in
Salvator's house glittering like a golden beetle, with a countenance of
radiant sunshine. The splendour around him--Salvator himself (who was
much more finely dressed than he had been wont to be)--inspired him
with reverence; and--as is usually the case with shallow souls, which
are puffed-up at first, but at once fall down into the dust when they
perceive any distinct superiority over them--Pasquale was all deference
and humility towards that Salvator whom he was for ever lording over in
Rome.

So much attention was paid to Signor Pasquale on all hands; his
opinions were so unconditionally appealed to; so much was said as to
his artistic merits, that he felt himself a new man; nay, it seemed to
him that a special spirit came to life within him, so that he really
spoke much more sensibly on many subjects than might have been
expected. As, in addition to all this, he had never in all his life
partaken of such a splendid dinner, or tasted such inspiring wine, his
enjoyment necessarily mounted higher and higher, and he forgot all
about the wrongs done him in Rome, and the unpleasant business which
had brought him to Florence.

In a short time the bushes at the bottom of the hall began to get in
motion, the leafy branches opened out apart, and a little theatre came
into view, with its stage, and some seats for an audience.

"All ye saints!" cried Pasquale Capuzzi, in much alarm. "Where am I?
That is Nicolo Mussos's theatre!"

Without paying attention to his outcry, two gentlemen of dignified
appearance--Evangelista Torricelli and Andrea Cavalcanti--took him by
the arms, one on each side, and conducted him to a seat in front of the
stage, taking their places on either side of