As he spoke, there appeared at the back of the stage Antonio Scacciati and Marianna, with their arms about each other. Shaky as the old gentleman was on his legs, fury gave him strength and agility. At a bound he was on to the stage, where he drew his sword, and ran at Antonio. But he felt himself seized from behind; an officer of the Papal Guard was holding him, and said, in a serious tone: "Consider a little, Signor Pasquale Capuzzi; you are on Nicolo Musso's stage. Without being aware of it, you have been playing a most entertaining part this evening. You will not find Antonio or Marianna here." The two performers whom Capuzzi had taken to be them had come closer, with the rest of the actors, and he did not know their faces at all. The sword fell from his trembling hand; he drew a deep breath, like one waking from a fearful dream, clasped his forehead, forced his eyes wide open. The dreadful sense of what had really happened flashed upon him, and he cried: "Marianna!" in a terrible voice, till the walls re-echoed. But his calling could no longer reach her ears; for Antonio had carefully watched for the moment when Capuzzi, oblivious of everything, even himself, was contending with his counterfeit on the stage, had then cautiously made his way to Marianna, and taken her through the audience to a side door, where the Vetturino was waiting with the carriage; and away they were driven towards Florence as fast as they could go. "Marianna!" the old man continued crying. "She has gone!--she has flown!--the villain Antonio has robbed me of her! Away!--after her! Good people, have pity! Get torches; search for my dove! Ha, the serpent!" And the old man was making off; but the officer held him fast, saying: "If you mean the pretty young girl who was sitting by you, I rather fancy I saw her slip out with a young fellow--Antonio Scacciati, I believe,--some considerable time ago, just as you were beginning that useless, silly quarrel with the actor who had on a mask something like you. Signor Pasquale, it is my duty to arrest you, on account of your behaviour, and the murderous attack upon the actor." Signor Pasquale, with pale death in his face, incapable of uttering a word or a sound, was marched off by the very Sbirri who had come there to protect him from masquerading demons and spectres. Thus there fell upon him deep distress and sorrow, and all the wild despair of a foolish and deceived old amorous fool, on the very night when he looked to celebrate his greatest triumph. Salvator Rosa Quits Rome For Florence. The End Of This Story. All things here below under the sun are subject to constant change and fluctuation, but there is nothing that more deserves to be called fickle and fleeting than mankind's opinions, which keep rotating in an eternal circle, like Fortune's wheel. Bitter censure falls to-day upon him who yesterday gathered a grand harvest of praise; he who walks to-day a-foot may to-morrow ride in a gilded chariot.