dowry by showing them what there was beneath the slab of the
chimney.

These two points accomplished, he went in search of the
painter who was to paint the sign; and he was soon found. He
was an old Italian, a rival of the Raphaels and the Caracci,
but an unfortunate rival. He said he was of the Venetian
school, doubtless from his fondness for color. His works, of
which he had never sold one, attracted the eye at a distance
of a hundred paces; but they so formidably displeased the
citizens, that he had finished by painting no more.

He boasted of having painted a bath-room for Madame la
Marechale d'Ancre, and mourned over this chamber having been
burnt at the time of the marechal's disaster.

Cropoli, in his character of a compatriot, was indulgent
towards Pittrino, which was the name of the artist. Perhaps
he had seen the famous pictures of the bath-room. Be this as
it may, he held in such esteem, we may say in such
friendship, the famous Pittrino, that he took him in his own
house.

Pittrino, grateful, and fed with macaroni, set about
propagating the reputation of this national dish, and from
the time of its founder, he had rendered, with his
indefatigable tongue, signal services to the house of
Cropoli.

As he grew old he attached himself to the son as he had done