fe of our great and noble painter, Salvator Rosa."
Therewith the young surgeon threw himself on his knees again, and,
seizing Salvator's hand, kissed it and bathed it in tears as before.

"I don't understand," said the artist, raising himself up a little,
though with considerable difficulty, "I don't understand, my dear
Antonio, what it is that is so especially urging you to show me all
this respect. You are, you say, a chirurgeon, and we don't in a general
way find this trade going hand in hand with art----"

"As soon," replied the young man, casting down his eyes, "as soon as
you have picked up your strength again, my dear sir, I have a good deal
to tell you that now lies heavy on my heart."

"Do so," said Salvator; "you may have every confidence in me--that you
may, for I don't know that any man's face has made a more direct appeal
to my heart than yours. The more I look at you the more plainly I seem
to trace in your features a resemblance to that incomparable young
painter--I mean Sanzio."[1.10] Antonio's eyes were lit up with a proud,
radiant light--he vainly struggled for words with which to express his
feelings.

At this moment Dame Caterina appeared, followed by Father Boniface,
who brought Salvator a medicine which he had mixed scientifically
according to prescription, and which the patient swallowed with more
relish and felt to have a more beneficial effect upon him than the
Acheronian waters of the Pyramid Doctor Splendiano Accoramboni.

II.

_By Salvator Rosa's intervention Antonio Scacciati attains to a high
honour. Antonio discloses the cause of his persistent trouble to
Salvator, who consoles him and promises to help him._

And Antonio's words proved true. The simple but salutary remedies of
Father Boniface, the careful nursing of good Dame Caterina and her
daughters, the warmer weather which now came--all co-operated so well
together with Salvator's naturally robust constitution that he soon
felt sufficiently well to think about work again; first of all he
designed a few sketches which he thought of working out afterwards.

Antonio scarcely ever left Salvator's room; he was all eyes when the
painter drew out his sketches; whilst his judgment in respect to many
points showed that he must have been initiated into the secrets of art.

"See here," said Salvator to him one day, "see here, Antonio, you
understand art matters so well that I believe you have not me