In a very short time all Rome streamed to see and admire this work of the young, unknown, dead master. Every one was unanimously of opinion that no such picture had been painted since Guido Reni's time, and, indeed, people carried their enthusiasm so far as to declare that this work was even to be ranked above Guido Reni's creations of the same kind. Among the crowd of people who were always collected before Scacciati's picture, Salvator one day observed a man, who, besides being of very remarkable exterior, was conducting himself like a madman. He was advanced in years, tall, lean as a spindle, pale of face, with a long, pointed nose, and an equally long chin, which increased its pointedness by being tipped with a little beard, and green, flashing eyes. Upon his thick, extremely fair peruke he had stuck a tall hat with a fine feather. He had on a short, dark-red cloak with many shining buttons, a sky-blue Spanish-slashed doublet, great gauntlets trimmed with silver fringe, a long sword by his side, light grey hose drawn over his bony knees, and bound with yellow ribbons, and bows of the same ribbon on his shoes. This strange figure was standing, as if enraptured, before the picture. He would stand up on his tiptoes, then bob himself quite low down; then hop up, with both legs at once, sigh, groan, close his eyes so tightly that the tears streamed from them, and then open them as wide as they would go; gaze incessantly at the beautiful Magdalene, sigh afresh, and lisp out in his mournful, _castrato_ voice, "Ah, Carissima! Benedetissima! Ah, Marianna! Marianna! Belissima!" &c. Salvator, always greedy after figures of this sort, got as near to him as he could, and tried to enter into conversation with him about Scacciati's picture, which seemed to delight him so much; but, without taking much heed of Salvator, the old fellow cursed his poverty, which would not allow him to buy this picture for a million, and so prevent any one else from fixing his devilish glances upon it. And then he hopped up and down again, and thanked the Virgin and all the saints that the infernal painter who had painted this heavenly picture, which drove him to madness and despair, was dead and gone. Salvator came to the conclusion that the man must be either a maniac, or some Academician of San Luca whom he did not know.