carefully bolted all the doors; then taking Pitichinaccio under his arm, he carried him back to his own house. On the way, the abortion loudly complained, (being so badly paid to sing every day Capuzzi's airs, or in burning his fingers to make the maccaroni boil,) of adding to that labor the more difficult still, of serving the beautiful Marianna, who loaded him with buffets and kicks, every time he came near her to fulfil his duties of valet de chambre. The old man consoled him and filled his mouth with sweetmeats to make him hold his tongue; he even added that he would have cut for him an abbe's coat out of his oldest doublet; Pitchinaccio required besides, to seal the peace, a wig and a rapier. It was disputing in this manner that they reached Bergognona, where Pitchinaccio lived, near Salvator's studio. Capuzzi placed the dwarf on his crooked feet, opened the door, and they both ascended, one behind the other, a staircase as straight and steep as a ladder leading to a hen-house.
When they had reached the middle of the stairs, a frightful racket shook the building: it was a drunken man who was asking, with loud oaths, the way to get out of this house of h—l. Pitichinaccio hugged the wall, and begged Capuzzi to pass on before: but hardly had the honorable citizen of Sengaglia ascended several steps, than the drunken man, loosing his equilibrium, fell upon him, and drove him like an avalanche into the street.
Capuzzi was sorely bruised on the pavement, and the drunkard, like a filled sack, quietly crushed him, without saying a word. At his cries of distress, two passers-by stopped; they picked up Pasquale, who rubbed his shins, whilst the drunkard, who appeared to be a little sobered by this event, went off without offering any excuse and, cursing him heartily.
"Good heaven! Signor Pasquale, what are you doing here at this time, in this situation? what misfortune has happened to you?"
"Ah! my noble lords, I am nearly killed! that hell-hound has broken all my limbs!"
