A good deal of the Signor's conversation resembles easy lessons in one syllable for beginners. His "let us go and see 'er," was delivered with a slight halt between each word, like a child in a state of doubt over a column in a spelling book. They went into the house, and out, by the back way. Madame Regniati soon discovered the worst. When the Signor had gone, she called at the house herself, and found that the Signor rented a lodging of the farmer, and, _kept a pig_. Though forced to give up the country, he could not deny himself this agricultural pleasure. His first pig had won a prize, and the farmer showed Mrs. Regniati the account of the Cattle Show in a local paper, with Mr. Regniati exhibiting under the name of "Tomkins," and then, in the fulness of his heart, he brought out a silver medal, tied to a blue riband and preserved in a case of morocco leather, on which was inscribed that this represented the second prize for pigs awarded by the Judges to Mr. Regniati, as "Tomkins," for the sow Selina, and then followed date, place, and other particulars. After this discovery there was an arrangement. Mr. Regniati was allowed a small farm-house in the country, on condition of his not _wasting_ money upon it, and only taking to it as a recreation, while the greater portion of his time he would be, henceforth, in honour bound to dedicate to his Art. The Signor accepted these terms. In six years' time he had got as far as the third pair of knees,--Juno's,--and had obtained the first prize for pigs, and the second for bullocks, at a County Show. This success lured him on to his ruin. At the expiration of ten years, Venus had a head on her shoulders, and he had almost lost his own. There had been years of disease among the cattle, insects in the turnips, and rottenness in the heart of his mangels; his expenses had become enormous, the Inspector of Nuisances had complained of the state of the drains round and about his farm, his oxen had strayed, two bulls had got loose and had maimed several people for life, whom he had to pension as long as they were unable to work,--and their inability to work appeared to increase with the duration of the pension. In fact Mr. Regniati's model farm promised to eventuate in a gigantic failure. At this crisis Madame stepped in and saved the citadel. She simply got rid, _sur-le-champ_, of the live-stock, man and beast. Then she disposed of the house and outbuildings. The Signor went down, and sat, like Marius, or rather like a second Cincinnatus, when, on returning from the metropolis, he found that his farm had gone utterly to the bad. After this, Signor Regniati went hard to work on Juno. A year's toil brought its reward. Madame his wife was pleased to sit as his model, and, ultimately, to purchase for him a small game preserve, and a shooting box in Bedfordshire, at an easy distance from town.