“Ah, you no see northeen. Ees here, in de lettera. Angel ees-a Bertino Manconi. He send-a good news.” “Ho-ho! The laddybuck that putt the knife in his uncle. Sure it’s the furst toime iver I knew angels carried stilettos.” “Wha’ differenza dat mague?” Fired with a new purpose, the banker was himself again, and spoke with spirit. “Maybe he goin’ know wha’ he’s about. For me dat ees-a northeen. Ees-a de statua--de Presidentessa I’m tink about. You know wha’ dat ees? Guess-a not. Well, I’m tell-a you. Ees-a var fine, I’m know. Dees-a Bertino he ees-a been show me de lettera from de Dogana. It say he moost-a pay one hoon-dred and forty dollar. Ah, moost-a be sometheen stupendo. Tink I’m goin’ mague moocha mun by dees-a statua, and de next-a one he mague ees de King of Tammany Hall. How moocha you tink I’m sell-a him? Ah! fine, fine! De Presidentessa, maybe I’m sell-a her to de Presidente. Who know? Guess-a Signor Tomato he ees-a rich-a mahn, he sell-a so many statua to de grandi signori of America.” The more his eager fancy played about the bust the bigger grew the fortune to which it seemed the stepping stone. From its siren lips there flowed a far-off subtile song, which bade him do and dare, go forth and possess, and by that token end his long night of poverty in a glorious dawn of riches. And with gaining allure came the oft-sung refrain: “The devil cast out, an angel descends; the devil cast out, an angel descends.” Surely it was a fulfilment of that fine proverb, so wise with the wisdom of Naples’s centuries. No eye could see, no ear catch, a plainer truth. The Jack Tar, devil of bad luck, not only cast out, but, grace to the strong arm and inspired axe of Bridget, dead for evermore. And the bust was the descending angel. Yes; he would obey the voice of Heaven’s courier and take the Presidentessa from the customhouse, though it asked every _soldo_ in the window. La Presidentessa! The First Lady of the Land? _Dio magnifico!_ And to him, Domenico Tomato, had fallen the matchless honour of presenting this great work of art to the American people! Not an hour must be lost. To the Dogana at once and release the angel of wealth.