In conversation Caper found out the hour at which the duchess intended to make her visit. He made his preparations accordingly. Accompanied by Rocjean, he visited Gigi, who kept a costume and life school of models, found out where the pipers drank most wine, and going there and up the Via Fratina and down the Spanish Steps, managed to find them, and arranged it so that at the time the duchess was viewing MacGuilp's paintings, he should have the full benefit of a serenade from all the pifferari in Rome. The next morning Caper, pipe in mouth, at his window, saw the carriage of the duchess drive up, and from it the noble English dismount and ascend to the artist's studio. The carriage had hardly driven away when up came two of the pipers, and happening to cast their eyes up they saw Caper, who hailed them and told them not to begin playing until the others arrived. In a few moments six of the hog-skin squeezers stood ready to begin their infernal squawking. 'Go ahead!' shouted Caper, throwing a handful of _baiocchi_ among them; and as soon as these were gathered up, the pipers gave one awful, heart-chilling blast, and the concert was fairly commenced. Squealing, shrieking, grunting, yelling, and humming, the sounds rose higher and higher. Open flew the windows in every direction. '_C'est foudroyante!_' said the pretty French _modiste_. 'What the devil's broke loose?' shouted an American. '_Mein Gott im himmel! was ist das?_' roared the German baron. '_Casaccio! cosa faceste?_' shrieked the lovely Countess Grimanny. '_In nomine Domine!_' groaned a fat friar. '_Caramba! vayase al infierno!_' screamed Don Santiago Gomez. '_Bassama teremtete!_' swore the Hungarian gentleman. Louder squealed the bagpipes, their buzz filled the air, their shrieks went ringing up to MacGuilp like the cries of Dante's condemned. The duchess found the sound barbarous. MacGuilp opened his window, upon which the pipers strained their lungs for the Signore Inglese, grand amateur of the bagpipes. He begged them to go away. 'No, no, signore; we know you love our music; we won't go away.' The duchess could stand it no longer, her Servant called the carriage, the English got in and drove off. Still rung out the sounds of the six bagpipes. Caper threw them more _baiocchi_. Suddenly MacGuilp burst out of the door of his house, maul-stick in hand, rushing on the pifferari to put them to flight. '_Iddio giusto!_' shouted two of the pipers; 'it is, IT IS the _Cacciatore_! the hunter; the Great Hunter!' 'He is a painter!' shouted another. 'No, he isn't; he's a hunter. _Gran Cacciatore!_ Doesn't he spend all his time after quails and snipe and woodcock? Haven't I been out with him day after day at Ostia? Long live the great hunter!'