t,
crying:

"Oh, Signor Formica! to whom I owe my life, my all! cast aside the mask
which disguises you, that I may see your face--that Formica may cease
to be a mystery to me."

Pasquarello took off the cap, and the skilfully-constructed mask, which
seemed to be an actual, natural face, placing no obstacle in the way of
facial expression. And this Formica--this Pasquarello--was transformed
into--Salvator Rosa!

"Salvator!" cried Marianna, Antonio, and Capuzzi, _ensemble_, all
amazement.

"Yes," said that wondrous man. "Salvator Rosa; whom the Romans would
have none of, as painter, as poet; and who, as Formica, for more than a
year, on Nicolo Musso's poor little stage, moved them almost nightly to
the loudest and most immoderate applause; from whom they gladly
accepted all ridicule and mockery of what was bad, though they would
not swallow it in Salvator's poems and pictures. Salvator Formica it is
who has aided you, dear Antonio."

"Salvator!" old Capuzzi began; "Salvator Rosa! I have looked upon you
as my worst enemy, but I have always held your art in highest honour;
and now I love you as the most valued of my friends, and I venture to
beg you to accept me as such."

"Say, my worthy Signor Pasquale," answered Salvator, "in what I can be
of service to you, and be assured beforehand that I will employ all my
powers to fulfil your desires."

There dawned in Capuzzi's face once more that sugary smile which had
vanished since Marianna's departure. He took Salvator's hand, and
whispered gently: "My dear Signor Salvator, you can do anything with
the good Antonio. Beg him, in my name, to allow me to spend the brief
remainder of my days with him and my dear daughter Marianna, and to
accept from me the fortune which she inherits from her mother, to which
I mean to add a liberal marriage-portion. And then, too, he mustn't
look askew if I now and then kiss the lovely child's little white hand;
and--at all events on Sundays when I go to mass--he must dress my
moustache for me; a thing which nobody in all the world can do as he
can."

Salvator had difficulty in restraining his laughter; but before he
could make answer, Antonio and Marianna, embracing the old man, assured
him that they would not consider the reconciliation complete, or feel
thoroughly happy, until he took his place by their hearth as a beloved
father, never to leave them more. Antonio added that he would dress
Capuzzi's moustachios not only on Sundays,