The Continental Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 5, May, 1862: Devoted To Literature And National PolicyVarious
History
The Continental Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 5, May, 1862: Devoted To Literature And National Policy
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; United States -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Periodicals
'_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 tell _me_ to
be here at nine o'clock?'
'To be sure I did,' replied he.
'Then,' continued she, 'what is _that person_ there taking the bread out
of my mouth for? _Cospetto!_'
'_Iddio giusto!_' cried Nina, 'hear her; she calls _me_, ME, a person! I
who have a watch and chain, and wear a hooped petticoat! _I_ take the
bread out of her mouth. I a person! I'm a lady, _per Bacco!_'
'Tace!' said Rocjean to Nina, 'or the Signore Giacomo will send you
flying. What do you want, Nina?'
'I only wanted to see if the Signore intended to paint the Lady Godeeva,
that he told me about the other day.'
'Wait till I open the studio-door, and get out of this noise. Those old
women down below, and you young ones up here, are howling like a lot of
hyenas. Here, come in!' ... As Caper said this, he unlocked the
studio-door and threw it open; the two models were close at his elbows,
while Rocjean drew to one side to let them pass in.
In the next minute, Caper, the two models, a he-goat, a dirty little
donkey, and a yelping dog, were rolling head over heels down-stairs, one
confused mass of petticoats and animals.
Rocjean roared with laughter; he could do nothing but hold his sides,
fearful of having an apopletic fit or bursting a blood-vessel.
The small donkey slid down-stairs on his back, slowly, gradually,
meekly; his long ears rubbing the way before him. But the billy-goat was
on his feet in an instant, and was charging, next thing, full force into
the knot of old women at the foot of the stairs, who, believing that
their last hour had come, and that it was old Nick in person, yelled
out,' 'Tis he; the devil! the devil!' and fled before the horns to come.
Giacinta was the first one on her legs, and after picking up the _caro_
Giacomo, _alias_ Caper, and finding he was not hurt, she then
good-naturedly helped Nina to arrange her tumbled garments.
Rocjean rushed to open the studio-windows, to air the room, for it had
not the odors of the Spice Islands in it. Caper hastened to pick up
paints, brushes, books, easel; but they were too many for him, and at
last, giving it up in despair, he sat down on a chair.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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