out his hand timidly, as if to solicit the wages already due him. The false Capuzzi in a vein of good humor, threw him a few ducats and a multitude of fine promises for the future.
"Pasquale, Pasquale! thou art yielding thyself to the devil Prodigality!" cried out the veritable Capuzzi, so loudly, that the whole audience called out for him to be quiet, with a threat to throw him out should he again disturb the play.
The clown gravely continued his eulogium on the fine qualities of his master, and judged that the time was appropriate to announce to the public a new air from this great master. The false Capuzzi, clapping his companion on the shoulder, said to him, with a look ridiculously cunning, enough to make Egyptian mummies die laughing, that the office of singing Signor Pasquale Capuzzi di Senegaglia's music was just suited to a valet, seeing that the pretended virtuoso Capuzzi found it infinitely convenient to dress himself up in the peacock's feathers; and copied all through, from the works of Frescobaldi and Carissimi, pieces which he afterwards appropriated with unheard of effrontery.
The attack was rude; its effect was irresistible. "Thou liest, by all the saints thou liest!" howled the veritable Capuzzi, bounding with fury upon his seat, where all the neighbors exerted their strength to restrain him and prevent him from springing upon the stage.
"Let us talk about something else," continued, without being disconcerted, the false Capuzzi. "I will offer to my numerous friends and admirers a royal festival, and I order thee, Pasquarello, to expend thy imagination, thy arms, and thy legs, so that nothing shall be wanting on this solemn occasion."
Then, taking a list of the most exquisite dishes from his pocket, he called them out one after the other; and, when the faithful valet announced the price, he gave him the money without discussion. When the bill of fare for the feast was settled upon, Pasquarello begged his master to tell him for what occasion he ordered so splendid an entertainment.
