Sufficient of my story had been made common property by Il Nanno to save me the trouble of trying to enlist their sympathies.  They were mine from the moment of my appearance in their midst.  They were entirely willing to let my two champions go to Lucca on my account, and I was glad to hear that the company would not stand to lose much by so generous an act.  They were on their way to Siena, and except for an open-air performance or two in mean villages would not need either Belviso or the dwarf until they reached that city, where the pair would rejoin them.  They offered me their protection and hospitality in the frankest manner—­ in such terms, indeed, that I could not but have accepted them had my necessities been lighter than they were.  I took them thankfully, and asked leave further to propose that, as I had a good memory and a person not otherwise unsuitable, I might place myself and my abilities at their whole disposal.  “Use me, gentlemen,” said I, “if I suit you; make me of service elsewhere than on your scene if I do not.  By so doing you will lighten my load of debt, and make me feel less of a stranger and a burden.  I have won two friends already by the recital of my sorrows”—­ here I placed a hand on Belviso’s shoulder and gave the other to Il Nanno—­“let me hope that I can gain yet more by some exhibition of my talents.”

This was loudly applauded.  “Stand up, Don Francis,” said Belviso to me, “and spout us out whatever bombast you can remember.”

I gave them, first, the opening speech of the Orfeo of Politian, where the sad shepherd accounts his plight, his pursuit of the nymph Euridice, her abhorrence of him, and the like.  All eyes were fixed upon me; I saw those of La Panormita glisten.  The smooth-flowing verses moved her.  They were silent when I had done, which a little disconcerted me; but presently the dwarf snapped out, “More.”  Emboldened, I began upon the Aminta of Tasso, reciting the opening speech of Daphne in the fourth act.  To my delight the part of Silvia, which Virginia in our old days at Pistoja had been wont to take, was caught up and continued by Belviso.  We fired each other, capped each other, and ended the great scene.  The last six lines of it, to be spoken by the Choragus, were croaked by Il Nanno in his bull-frog’s voice.  We stopped amid a storm of bravas, and La Panormita, with a great gesture, crowned us with flowers.  I was made free of the company by acclamation.

Belviso set off early in the morning with his monstrous old wife of the occasion.  He embraced me warmly before he left me.  “Keep a good heart, Don Francis,” he said, “and trust in your friends.  All that is possible shall be done, you may be sure.  I shan’t dare to look you in the face if I come back without your Virginia.”

CHAPTER XXXV

TEMPTED IN SIENA, BELVISO SAVES ME