tell the truth, I feel most plaguily uncomfortable. Our Captain-General's edicts are likely to cause trouble if this kind of thing is suffered to continue. I heard Sacardo but just now explaining the terms of the enactment to an ancient dame who might have been his grandmother. Prohibit gowns, indeed! It had been well for Maso could he have listened to her comments."

We all four laughed, and Claudia went on again, but this time seriously.

"The latest proclamation commands the demolition of a score of houses in the Mercato, in order that Maso may convert his present dwelling into a palace more suitable to his new dignity. The occupants are given four-and-twenty hours in which to remove their goods and chattels."

"Caperi!" cried Coppola. "When Maso has warmed to his work, there should be no lack of amusement in the city. I must endeavour to find

time to sketch the exodus."

"Amusement! Ay, you painters think of nothing save amusement." And Claudia turned her back on him disdainfully. "Come, Kuno. My Lords of Misrule, I bid you a good evening."

No sooner were we out of earshot than she startled me. "A shot was fired this afternoon at Salvatore. We hold the would-be murderer a prisoner." She smiled triumphantly. "It was I who saw him. It was I who captured him."

I stood still in the patch of moonlight, looking straight at her. She held out the comfit-box.

"His name is Ercole." She chose a prune and ate it slowly, and with dignity.

CHAPTER XXVII

A DISCUSSION WITH A DIFFERENCE

IT was ever characteristic of Claudia that the more I questioned her the less was I likely to obtain an answer. Ercole was a prisoner. Not all my pleading curiosity availed to supplement the statement.

"You should endeavour to restrain yourself," she said, with mock severity. "We are now on our way towards the Torrione. There is a meeting of the Company to discuss the situation."

"If that be so," said I, "it were as well to summon our comrades yonder, and

"Interfere with the artistic execution of a masterpiece," she interrupted. "Are you so blind as not to see that our Painter-Knights are weary of conspiracy." Her sigh was not without a tinge of bitterness. "How will it end?" she murmured. "Our friends indifferent, the lazzaroni still hardly comprehending the terrible power for good which lies with them, Masaniello acting like a child without responsibility: is this to be the ending of my dreams of liberty?"

"By Saint Anthony of Padua !" I broke out, in an attempt to bring back cheerfulness. "What, after all, is a revolution but a lottery? We have drawn one winning number in the charter. Shall we despair because we hold a few blanks also?"

She shook her head. "There was wisdom in the words of old Don Muzio. It is one thing to grant freedom to a people; it is another thing to teach them how to use it."

Depression of this kind was so alien to Claudia's nature that I wondered. Yet a moment later she was

laughing. Her hand was once more toying with the comfit-box.

"Let us hasten, comrade," she said gaily. And presently we turned into the Strada Conciaria and emerged from thence on the Mercato.

The great square was deserted, and in the fitful moonlight conveyed an impression of almost spectral weirdness. An occasional grunt from the swine which lay about the muck-heaps was the only sound that reached us. The heavy pile of the Carmine with its lofty tower frowned with sinister aspect. instinctively drew closer to me.

Claudia

"See there," she whispered, as we picked our way beside the shattered monument with its ghastly ornament of newly-severed heads. "How great a change has the passing of a few short hours wrought in Maso: Maso, whose hatred of suffering and bloodshed was proverbial." She pointed with her finger. "This morning that was Paolo Pagano. Time was when he and Maso were inseparable, linked by warmest friendship. And now! Some trifling infringement of an edict, some paltry act of disobedience, and—you heard for yourself how man after man came forward pleading mercy. Maso was obdurate. The Law knows nothing of friendship, was his answer."

"Can nothing be done?" I groaned. "This is not justice but pure tyranny. No life is safe amid this multitude of edicts."

We reached the door of the

Claudia did not answer. Carmine in silence. She knocked in the preconcerted manner, and we entered.

Inside the Torrione, Salvator Rosa greeted us in person. His manner was passionate and heated.

"May a pestilence descend upon these people," he shouted, as he dragged us after him. "They have dared to argue with me, to treat me as dirt beneath their feet. I who have more knowledge in my little finger than they in the whole of their gross bodies."

I smiled despite myself at his extravagance, while Claudia again produced the comfit-box.

"The learned physician, Baldassare Bertolini, was wont to propound the efficacy of prunes as sedatives. Will you not try one, Salvatore ?"

He tugged at his beard, then glanced at me guffawing. "I wish you joy of your future wife," he cried. "This madcap sister of mine would weary the patience of a San Gennaro," and he peacocked up and down in imitation of her. "So. A very Ercole in her deportment, a smirk here, a bow there, and never a word of sense to clear the atmosphere. That I should have lived to behold my Claudia a popinjay!"

"Alas!" said she. "Not of my own free-will am I in this most barbarous costume. Confined in hose and doubtlet I no longer wonder that men should be such irritable creatures." She bowed with becoming gravity. "I trust that your antics do not delay the further proceedings of the Company."

So saying she ran forward, and we followed.

"Pesta !" said Il Signore, as we passed into the Council Chamber. His manner had grown solemn.

In the centre of the room, some standing, others seated round a table, were some three score persons. I saw with surprise that not more than seven or eight were drawn from the ranks of the Painter-Knights, to so low an ebb had the waning of enthusiasm reduced the attendance of the Company. The remainder were for the most part merchants and tradesfolk of the better class: among them I recognised my landlord.

"Pesta!" said Il Signore to me. "Of what should such men think save of their money-bags!" His tone was one of disgust personified. "Intrigue or revenge means nothing to them. Their god is their belly."

"It was none the less at your desire that they were admitted as members of the Company," mentioned Claudia drily.

He frowned. "Falcone, Coppola, Spadaro, and the rest: where are they?"

"Painting." The answer was laconic.

"Then they do wisely. To-morrow I shall follow their example," and he strode up to the table vehe

mently. "Well, sirs! The result of your deliberations, if it please you!"

There was a moment's uneasy pause, with not a little whispering and nudging. Finally, urged by his fellows, my landlord Valentino rose to his feet as spokesman.

"Most illustrious and noble cavaliere! Urged by a sense of caution, and bearing in mind the everincreasing insecurity both of person and of property during these present troubles: further considering— I crave your Excellency's forgiveness should these poor observations unwittingly appear to be lacking in that deference to your Excellency's judgment which your Excellency's greatness so justly evokes among all classes-further considering, I say, that a somewhat perplexing series of enactments has rendered it difficult

"To the point, man!" roared Salvator Rosa angrily. Valentino stuttered, sat down with abruptness. But one of the others, goaded into speech, burst out with "The tyranny of Spain was preferable to this rank folly of a madman." A ripple of approval shook his hearers, and springing forward he confronted Il Signore.

"I am Antonio Ferraro, the first among the merchants of this city, and I bring you warning. Let there be an end to these disturbances; have done with mob-rule and with violence. We are no lazzaroni; we are men of substance. The Charter of our Liberty has been restored to us, restored to us by whom? Neither by you nor by your Captain-General, but through the mediation of His Eminence. It is to the Cardinal, our patron and protector, that we look for guidance. By the Holy Relics of the Twelve Apostles! How long shall we continue to be governed by a madman? You do us an injustice, cavaliere; you do yourself injustice. Is this the freedom which you promised us?"

Salvator Rosa was listening in ominous silence. Ferraro turned towards his comrades.

"What say you, fellow-citizens? Trade, commerce,