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Updated: June 27, 2025
Amongst the crowd of people who were always gathered round Scacciati's picture, Salvator one day observed a man who, besides presenting a most extraordinary appearance, behaved as if he were crazy. Well advanced in years, he was tall, thin as a spindle, with a pale face, a long sharp nose, a chin equally as long, ending moreover in a little pointed beard, and with grey, gleaming eyes.
For I tell you, my good sir, that my niece Marianna is quite a child, quite a child, only just outgrown her nurse's care." Salvator turned the conversation upon something else; the old gentleman recovered himself. But just as he, his face again radiant with sunshine, was on the point of putting the full wine-cup to his lips, Salvator began anew.
One of my father's most intimate friends was the very Rev. Father Salvator, a Priest of the order of St. Francis; he wore the habit of the order, his head was about half shaved. The sleeves of his habit were very large at the elbow; in these sleeves he had small pockets, in which he usually carried his snuff box, handkerchief, and purse of gold.
"Call it a crotchet, call it a foolish fancy, or what you will, Antonio," rejoined Salvator, "at any rate I love the fair sex; but there is not one, not even she on whom I foolishly dote, for whom I would gladly die, but what excites in my heart, so soon as I think of a union with her such as marriage is, a suspicion that makes me tremble with a most unpleasant feeling of awe.
The adventure, notwithstanding its wildness and audacity, would undoubtedly have been successful, had not Salvator and Antonio overlooked one person, who upset everything.
"Still determined to despair?" cried Salvator, who had suddenly risen into the highest spirits. He laughed aloud: "I tell you, Antonio, friend Formica will help in Florence quite as well as he did in Rome. Go quietly home. Comfort your Marianna, and await the course of events quite tranquilly.
"Nay, nay, not quite," said Salvator, laughing, "I am of opinion that things could not be in a better form for you, Marianna loves you, of that you are convinced; and all we have to do is to get her out of the power of that fantastic old gentleman, Signor Pasquale Capuzzi. I should like to know what there is to hinder a couple of stout enterprising fellows like you and me from accomplishing this.
Antonio coloured at those words of Salvator's; in fact, they had about them a ring of jeering irony. Antonio answered: "Let me lay aside all bashfulness, which might close my lips. Let me speak freely out exactly what is in my mind. Salvator, I have never revered a master so wholly from out the very depths of my being as I do you.
The renowned painter, Salvator Rosa, comes to Rome, and is attacked by a dangerous malady. What happened to him during this malady.
"Where are they, Varin?" "I don't know. My brother had charge of them." "They are hidden in this room." "In that case, you know where they are." "How should I know?" "Was it not you who found the hiding-place? You appear to be as well informed....as Salvator." "The letters are not in the hiding-place." "They are." "Open it." Varin looked at him, defiantly.
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