lready given the pendulum such a violent start that the
mechanism was quite impaired.

Now it happened one day that when Salvator seemed scarcely able to move
a finger he was suddenly seized with the paroxysm of fever; in a
momentary accession of fictitious strength he leapt out of bed, seized
the full medicine bottles, and hurled them fiercely out of the window.
Just at this moment Doctor Splendiano Accoramboni was entering the
house, when two or three bottles came bang upon his head, smashing all
to pieces, whilst the brown liquid ran in streams all down his face,
and wig, and ruff. Hastily rushing into the house, he screamed like a
madman, "Signer Salvator has gone out of his mind, he's become insane;
no skill can save him now, he'll be dead in ten minutes. Give me the
picture, Dame Caterina, give me the picture--it's mine, the scanty
reward of all my trouble. Give me the picture, I say."

But when Dame Caterina opened the box, and Doctor Splendiano saw
nothing but the old cloaks and torn shoes, his eyes spun round in his
head like a pair of fire-wheels; he gnashed his teeth; he stamped; he
consigned poor Salvator, the widow, and all the family to the devil;
then he rushed out of the house like an arrow from a bow, or as if he
had been shot from a cannon.

After the violence of the paroxysm had spent itself, Salvator again
relapsed into a death-like condition. Dame Caterina was fully persuaded
that his end was really come, and away she sped as fast as she could to
the monastery, to fetch Father Boniface, that he might come and
administer the sacrament to the dying man. Father Boniface came and
looked at the sick man; he said he was well acquainted with the
peculiar signs which approaching death is wont to stamp upon the human
countenance, but that for the present there were no indications of them
on the face of the insensible Salvator. Something might still be done,
and he would procure help at once, only Doctor Splendiano Accoramboni
with his Greek names and infernal medicines was not to be allowed to
cross the threshold again. The good Father set out at once, and we
shall see later that he kept his word about sending the promised help.

Salvator recovered consciousness again; he fancied he was lying in a
beautiful flower-scented arbour, for green boughs and leaves were
interlacing above his head. He felt a salutary warmth glowing in his
veins, but it seemed to him as if somehow his left arm was bound fast
"Wher