n out of our mouths. It was done by a
heavy Turk who danced cumbrously; presently his arms detached themselves
and became transformed into devils who danced separately; then his legs
followed their example; then his head descended from his trunk and, on
reaching the stage, became transformed into a dancing wizard carrying a
rod of magic and beating time to the music; then, while the body was
dancing by itself, various devils came out of it followed by several
serpents that floated among the devils; after which it developed a head,
a neck, wings and a tail, so that it became transformed into a complete
dragon, and the wizard mounted upon its back and rode about wizarding all
the other creatures. Altogether the original Turk became transformed
into sixteen different marionettes.

After this we had a funambolo or rope-dancer. The curtain rose
disclosing his rope ready for him, he entered and, after bowing
profusely, leapt up and sat first on the rope, then on a seat at the
back. Here he played with his pole, holding it first with one hand then
with the other, then balancing it on his head and doing tricks with it.
Then he walked along the rope forwards and backwards and danced, doing
his steps with great care and precision. After which he sat down to
recover his breath. Then he rope-walked again, doing impossible
things--that is, they would have been impossible if he had not been
sustained by many invisible strings, which the buffo manipulated with
wonderful skill. I liked the funambolo even better than the wizard, he
was extraordinarily lifelike.

In the evening I became transformed into an ordinary member of the public
and saw the devils make the subterranean road. The performance contained
a great deal besides about Periglio, a Turkish paladin, who, having been
accused by the son of the Emperor of China of helping the Christians, was
condemned to be beheaded. The father of his accuser with the other three
Emperors came to see him die; they stood at corners relentlessly
smoothing their beards and curling their moustaches with their right
fists and crying "A Morire!" Periglio in chains was led on, blindfolded.
The solemn headsman followed, carrying his axe, and, as the boy left off
turning the handle of the mechanical piano, the cornet blasted a
broken-hearted minor ninth over the last chord of the funeral march and
prolonged it till--well, after all it was a mistake; Periglio had not
really helped the Christia