“Brought the boots himself!  Don’t wait his pay!  Takes his leave with a bow and a scrape fit to honor majesty withal!  Desires a continuance of my custom!  Is the world coming to an end?  Of all the—­come in!”

“Pardon, signore, but I have brought your new suit of clothes for—­”

“Come in!”

“A thousand pardons for this intrusion, your worship.  But I have prepared the beautiful suite of rooms below for you—­this wretched den is but ill suited to—­”

“Come in!”

“I have called to say that your credit at our bank, some time since unfortunately interrupted, is entirely and most satisfactorily restored, and we shall be most happy if you will draw upon us for any—­”

“Come in!”

“My noble boy, she is yours!  She’ll be here in a moment!  Take her —­marry her—­love her—­be happy!—­God bless you both!  Hip, hip, hur—­”

“Come in!!!!!”

“Oh, George, my own darling, we are saved!”

“Oh, Mary, my own darling, we are saved—­but I’ll swear I don’t know why nor how!”

CHAPTER V

[Scene-A Roman Cafe.]

One of a group of American gentlemen reads and translates from the weekly edition of ‘Il Slangwhanger di Roma’ as follows: 

Wonderful discovery—­Some six months ago Signor John Smitthe, an American gentleman now some years a resident of Rome, purchased for a trifle a small piece of ground in the Campagna, just beyond the tomb of the Scipio family, from the owner, a bankrupt relative of the Princess Borghese.  Mr. Smitthe afterward went to the Minister of the Public Records and had the piece of ground transferred to a poor American artist named George Arnold, explaining that he did it as payment and satisfaction for pecuniary damage accidentally done by him long since upon property belonging to Signor Arnold, and further observed that he would make additional satisfaction by improving the ground for Signor A., at his own charge and cost.  Four weeks ago, while making some necessary excavations upon the property, Signor Smitthe unearthed the most remarkable ancient statue that has ever bees added to the opulent art treasures of Rome.  It was an exquisite figure of a woman, and though sadly stained by the soil and the mold of ages, no eye can look unmoved upon its ravishing beauty.  The nose, the left leg from the knee down, an ear, and also the toes of the right foot and two fingers of one of the hands were gone, but otherwise the noble figure was in a remarkable state of preservation.  The government at once took military possession of the statue, and appointed a commission of art-critics, antiquaries, and cardinal princes of the church to assess its value and determine the remuneration that must go to the owner of the ground in which it was found.  The whole affair was kept a profound secret until last night.  In the mean time the commission sat with closed doors and deliberated.  Last night they decided unanimously that the statue is a Venus, and the work of some unknown but sublimely gifted artist of the third century before Christ.  They consider it the most faultless work of art the world has any knowledge of.