egs again in a short time, if it had not happened, through Carlo's
well-meant mischance--as he ran for the nearest doctor at once--that
you fell into the clutches of the abominable Pyramid Doctor, who did
his very best to put you under the sod."

"The Pyramid Doctor?" said Salvator, laughing most heartily, weak as he
was. "Yes, yes; ill as I was, I saw him well enough, the little damasky
creature, who condemned me to swallow all that diabolical stuff--hell
broth as it was--and had the obelisk of the Piazza San Pietro on the
top of his head, which is the reason you call him the Pyramid Doctor."

"Oh, heavens!" cried the young man, laughing loudly too. "Yes, it was
Doctor Splendiano Accoramboni who appeared to you in that mysterious
high-pointed nightcap of his, in which he gleams out of his window in
the Piazza di Spagna every morning like some meteor of evil omen. But
it is not on account of the cap that he is called the Pyramid Doctor;
there is a very different reason for that. Doctor Splendiano is very
fond of pictures, and has a very fine collection, which he has got
together through a peculiar piece of technical practice. He keeps a
close and watchful eye upon painters and their illnesses, and
particularly he manages to throw his nets over stranger masters.
Suppose they have swallowed a little too much macaroni, or taken a cup
or two more syracuse than is good for them, he succeeds in throwing his
noose over them, and labels them with this or that disease, which he
christens by some monstrous name, and then sets to work to cure. As fee
he makes them promise him a picture, which, as it is only the strongest
constitutions which can resist the powerful drugs he administers, he
generally selects from the effects of the deceased, deposited at the
Pyramid of Cestius. He takes the best of them, and others into the
bargain. The refuse heap at the Pyramid of Cestius is the seedfield of
Doctor Splendiano Accoramboni, and he cultivates, dresses, and manures
it most assiduously. And that is why he is called the Pyramid Doctor.
Now Dame Caterina, with the best intentions, had given the doctor to
understand that you had brought a fine picture with you, and you can
imagine the ardour with which he set to work to brew potions for you.
It was lucky for you that in your paroxysm of fever you threw the stuff
at his head, that he left you in a fury, that Dame Caterina sent for
Father Bonifazio to administer the sacraments, believing yo