per that he ought to feed his menagerie, and the
porter being called and sent out for some food for the goat and donkey,
soon returned with a full supply.
Both artists now set to work in earnest; Caper with paints and brushes,
and Rocjean with crayons and sketch-book, determined to take the
patriarch's portrait while he was in a peaceful frame of body and
spirit.
With an intermission for luncheon, they worked until nearly four o'clock
in the afternoon, when Rocjean proposed taking a walk out to the Villa
Borghese, and as they returned, on their way to dinner, they could stop
in at the studio, and see that the donkey and goat were driven out to
the stable, where they could be kept until wanted again. Accordingly,
both artists walked out to the villa, and had only taken a short turn
toward the Casino, when they met a New-York friend of theirs, alone in a
carriage, taking a ride. He ordered the driver to stop, and begged them
both to get in with him, and after passing through the villa and around
the Pincio, to come and take dinner with him sociably in his rooms in
the Via Frattina. They accepted; and at ten o'clock that night, while
going home in a very happy frame of mind, it suddenly occurred to Caper
that his menagerie ought to have been attended to. Rocjean consoled him
with the reflection that, having the key in his pocket, they could not
possibly get out; so the former thought no more about it.
Early in the morning, having met as usual at the Greco, and breakfasted
together, Caper and Rocjean walked round to the former's studio. Before
they entered the door of the building, they noticed a small assembly of
old women surrounding the porter, and as Caper entered the passage-way,
they poured a broadside into him.
'_Accidente, Signore_, nobody around here has been able to sleep a wink
all night long. _Santa Maria!_ such yells have come from your studio,
such groans, such horrible noises, as if all the devils had broken
loose. We are going to the police; we are going to the _gendarmeria_; we
are going to--'
'Go there--and be hanged!' shouted Caper, breaking through the crowd,
and running up-stairs two steps at a time, he nearly walked into the lap
of a tall female model, named Giacinta, dressed in Ciociara costume, who
was calmly seated on the stair-case, glaring at another female model,
named Nina, who stood leaning against the door of his studio.
'Signor Giacomo, good morning!' said Giacinta, 'didn't you te
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