. I have
had no breakfast to-day. I dare not enter an eating-house. And hungry?
--don't mention it! My bootmaker duns me to death--my tailor duns me
--my landlord haunts me. I am miserable. I haven't seen John since that
awful day. She smiles on me tenderly when we meet in the great
thoroughfares, but her old flint of a father makes her look in the other
direction in short order. Now who is knocking at that door? Who is come
to persecute me? That malignant villain the bootmaker, I'll warrant.
Come in!"

"Ah, happiness attend your highness--Heaven be propitious to your grace!
I have brought my lord's new boots--ah, say nothing about the pay, there
is no hurry, none in the world. Shall be proud if my noble lord will
continue to honor me with his custom--ah, adieu!"

"Brought the boots himself! Don't wait his pay! Takes his leave with a
bow and a scrape fit to honor majesty withal! Desires a continuance of
my custom! Is the world coming to an end? Of all the--come in!"

"Pardon, signore, but I have brought your new suit of clothes for--"

"Come in!"

"A thousand pardons for this intrusion, your worship. But I have
prepared the beautiful suite of rooms below for you--this wretched den is
but ill suited to--"

"Come in!"

"I have called to say that your credit at our bank, some time since
unfortunately interrupted, is entirely and most satisfactorily restored,
and we shall be most happy if you will draw upon us for any--"

"COME IN!"

"My noble boy, she is yours! She'll be here in a moment! Take her
--marry her--love her--be happy!--God bless you both! Hip, hip, hur--"

"COME IN!!!!!"

"Oh, George, my own darling, we are saved!"

"Oh, Mary, my own darling, we are saved--but I'll swear I don't know why
nor how!"

CHAPTER V

[Scene-A Roman Cafe.]

One of a group of American gentlemen reads and translates from the weekly
edition of 'Il Slangwhanger di Roma' as follows:

WONDERFUL DISCOVERY--Some six months ago Signor John Smitthe, an American
gentleman now some years a resident of Rome, purchased for a trifle a
small piece of ground in the Campagna, just beyond the tomb of the Scipio
family, from the owner, a bankrupt relative of the Princess Borghese.
Mr. Smitthe afterward went to the Minister of the Public Records and had
the piece of ground transferred to a poor American artist named George
Arnold, explaining that he did it as payment and satisfaction for
pecuniary damage acciden