One fine day this poor young man fell in love with a Roman model, though she had never sat to him, I believe, for she was a buxom, bold-faced, high-colored creature, and he painted none but pale, sickly women.

He offered to marry her, and she looked at him from head to foot, gave a shrug, and consented.

But he was ashamed to set up his menage in Rome.
They went to Naples, and there, a couple of years afterwards, I saw him.
The poor fellow was ruined.

His wife used to beat him, and he had taken to drinking.

He wore a ragged black coat, and he had a blotchy, red face.