es he's singing an excellent bass, quite
as good as Martinelli of the Papal choir. Now these three estimable
people are in the habit of meeting in the evening on the balcony of
Capuzzi's house, where they sing Carissimi's[2.19] motets, until all
the dogs and cats in the neighbourhood round break out into dirges of
miawing and howling, and all their neighbours heartily wish the devil
would run away with all the blessed three.

"With this whimsical old fellow, Signor Pasquale Capuzzi, of whom my
description will have enabled you to form a tolerably adequate idea, my
father lived on terms of intimacy, since he trimmed his wig and beard.
When my father died, I undertook this business; and Capuzzi was in the
highest degree satisfied with me, because, as he once affirmed, I knew
better than anybody else how to give his moustaches a bold upward
twirl; but the real reason was because I was satisfied with the few
pence with which he rewarded me for my pains. But he firmly believed
that he more than richly indemnified me, since, whilst I was trimming
his beard, he always closed his eyes and croaked through an aria from
his own compositions, which, however, almost split my ears; and yet the
old fellow's crazy gestures afforded me a good deal of amusement, so
that I continued to attend him. One day when I went, I quietly ascended
the stairs, knocked at the door, and opened it, when lo, there was a
girl--an angel of light, who came to meet me. You know my Magdalene; it
was she. I stood stock still, rooted to the spot. No, Salvator, you
shall have no Ohs! and Ahs! Well, the first sight of this, the most
lovely maiden of her sex, enkindled in me the most ardent passionate
love. The old man informed me with a smirk that the young lady was the
daughter of his brother Pietro, who had died at Senigaglia, that her
name was Marianna, and that she was quite an orphan; being her uncle
and guardian, he had taken her into his house. You can easily imagine
that henceforward Capuzzi's house was my Paradise. But no matter
what devices I had recourse to, I could never succeed in getting a
_tete-a-tete_ with Marianna, even for a single moment. Her glances,
however, and many a stolen sigh, and many a soft pressure of the hand,
resolved all doubts as to my good fortune. The old man divined what I
was after,--which was not a very difficult thing for him to do. He
informed me that my behaviour towards his niece was not such as to
please him altogether,