Splendiano had dreamed strange dreams, during his lethargy at the foot of the pyramid of Cestius. The bodies of all his patients had arisen from their graves to torment him, and, since that fatal night, he had been oppressed with a superstitious sadness which nothing could dissipate. As for Pitichinaccio, this unfortunate abortion had become well convinced that real devils had assailed his master, and the remembrance alone of this event made him utter frightened cries. Capuzzi had vainly endeavored to prove to him that the devils were no other than accursed Christians, such as Salvator, Antonio and their friends. Pitichinaccio was moved to tears at finding himself thus contradicted; he swore by the great Eternal that the devil Fanfarell had struck him with his horns, that he had recognized him; and, to prove what he said, he showed his back, tattooed with livid spots.
Splendiano, who prided himself upon his reasoning, and being of a strong mind, first came to the decision to revisit the theatre, after having piously provided himself with a relic, which had been given him by a Bernardian monk. Pitichinaccio allowed himself to be seduced, less by the example of the doctor than by a promise of a box of preserved grapes; but it was farther agreed that Capuzzi should allow him to free himself for that evening of his duenna's petticoats, and put on his new coat, made from the best portion of his master's old doublets.
The success of the project which Salvator had formed, wholly depended on the possibility of separating Capuzzi and Marianna at the theatre. The two friends exhausted themselves in seeking the means of avoiding the presence of Splendiano and Pitichinaccio. Chance, which often remains deaf to our most anxious desires, seemed on this occasion to favor Salvator and Antonio, for the man made use of by Providence was precisely the one from whom they had most to fear, Michael, the bravo.
The following night, a frightful noise aroused the inhabitants of Ripetta street. A squad of police who were seeking
