When night came, Pasquale, after carefully bolting and barring up his house, carried the little monster of a Castrato home. The little creature mewed and complained all the way, that not only was he compelled to sing his lungs into a consumption over Capuzzi's arias, and burn his hands with cooking of macaroons, but, into the bargain, was employed in a service which brought him in nothing but cuffs on the ears and sound kicks, which Marianna dealt out to him in ample measure whenever he came into her vicinity. The old gentleman comforted him as well as he could, promising to supply him more plentifully with sugar-stuff than he had hitherto done, and even going so far as to enter into a solemn undertaking (inasmuch as the little wretch would not cease whining and lamenting) to have a little Abbate's coat made for him out of an old black plush doublet, which he had often looked upon with envious glances. He demanded, besides, a periwig and a sword. Discussing those matters, they reached the Strada Vergognona, for that was where Pitichinaccio lived, and, indeed, only four doors from Salvator. The old man set the little creature carefully down, and opened the door. Then they went up the narrow steps, more like a hen's ladder than anything else; but scarcely had they got half-way up when they became aware of a tremendous raging on the storey above, and a wild drunken fellow made his voice heard, calling upon all the devils in hell to show him the way out of this accursed, haunted house. Pitichinaccio, who was in front, pressed himself close to the wall and implored Capuzzi to go on first, for the love of all the saints. Scarcely, however, had Capuzzi gone a step or two up when the fellow from above came stumbling down the stairs, came upon Capuzzi like a whirlwind, seized hold of him, and went floundering down with him through the open door right into the middle of the street. There they remained lying prostrate, Capuzzi nethermost, and the drunken fellow on the top of him, like a heavy sack. Capuzzi screamed pitifully for help, and immediately there appeared two men, who, with much pains, eased Capuzzi of his burden, the drunken fellow, who went staggering away as they did so. The two men were Salvator and Antonio, and they cried, "Jesus! what has happened to you, Signor Capuzzi? What are you doing here at this time of the night? You seem to have had some bad business going on in the house." "It's all over with me," groaned Capuzzi; "the hellhound has broken every bone in my body. I can't move a muscle." "Let us see--let us see!" said Antonio; and he felt him all over, giving him, in the course of his examination, a pinch in the right leg of such shrewdness that Capuzzi uttered a yell. "Saints and angels!" ejaculated Antonio, "your right leg is broken just at the most dangerous place. If it is not attended to immediately, you are a dead man; or, at the very least, lamed for life."