the pantaloon in the pantomime, three tolerably pretty actresses, a
pulcinella, and a scaramouch. Altogether, the troupe was a decent one.

I told Fastidio to name the lowest salary he wanted for all his company,
assuring him that I would give the preference to his rival, if he should
ask me too much.

"Sir," he answered, "we are twenty, and shall require six rooms with ten
beds, one sitting-room for all of us, and thirty Neapolitan ducats a day,
all travelling expenses paid. Here is my stock of plays, and we will
perform those that you may choose."

Thinking of poor Marina who would have to remain in the lazaretto before
she could reappear on the stage at Otranto, I told Fastidio to get the
contract ready, as I wanted to go away immediately.

I had scarcely pronounced these words than war broke out again between
the manager-elect and his unfortunate competitor. Battipaglia, in his
rage, called Marina a harlot, and said that she had arranged beforehand
with Fastidio to violate the rules of the lazaretto in order to compel me
to choose their troupe. Petronio, taking his sister's part, joined
Fastidio, and the unlucky Battipaglia was dragged outside and treated to
a generous dose of blows and fisticuffs, which was not exactly the thing
to console him for a lost engagement.

Soon afterwards, Petronio brought me Therese's letter. She was ruining
the duke, getting rich accordingly, and waiting for me in Naples.

Everything being ready towards evening, I left Otranto with twenty
actors, and six large trunks containing their complete wardrobes. A light