Caesar or Nothing | Page 3

themselves on the half-rotten trunk of a tree.
"Are you on a trip?" he asked me, noticing my horse fastened to a branch.
"Yes. I am coming back from a visit."
"Ah! Are you the town doctor?"
"Yes."
"And do you live here, in Cestona?"
"Yes, I live here."
"Alone?"
"Quite alone."
"In an hotel?"
"No; in that house there down the road. Behold my house; that is it."
"It must be hard to live among so many invalids!" he exclaimed.
"Why?" she asked. "This gentleman may not have the same ideas as you."
"I believe I have. To my mind, he is right. It is very hard to live here."
"You can have nobody to talk to. That's evident."
"Absolutely nobody. Just imagine; there is not a Liberal in the town; there are nothing but Carlists and Integrists."
"And what has that to do with living contented?" she asked mockingly.
The woman was enchanting; I looked at her, a bit amazed to find her so merry and so coquettish; and she put several questions to me about my life and my ideas, with a tinge of irony.
I wanted to show that I was not exactly a farmer, and turning the talk to what might be done in a town like that, I threw myself into outlining utopian projects, and defending them with more warmth than it is reasonable to express in a conversation with unknown persons. The woman's mocking smile stirred me up and impelled me to talk.
"It would be worth seeing, what a little town like this would be," I said, indicating the village of Cestona, "with really human life in it, and, above all, without Catholicism. Every tenant might be a master in his own home, throughout his life. Here you have farm-land that produces two crops, you have woods, mountains, and a medicinal spring. The inhabitants of Cestona might have the entire produce of the land, the mountain to supply building-stone and fire-wood, and besides all that, the entrance-fees at the springs."
"And whose duty would it be to distribute the profits in this patriarchal republic? The municipality's?" he asked.
"Of course," said I. "The municipality could go ahead distributing the land, making the roads, cutting out useless middle-men; it could keep clean, inexpensive hotels for the foreigners, and get a good return from them."
"And then you would not admit of inheritance, doctor?"
"Inheritance? Yes, I would admit of it in regard to things produced by one person. I believe one ought to have the right to bequeath a picture, a book, a piece of craftsmanship; but not land, not a mountain."
"Yes; property-right in land is absurd," he murmured. "The one inconvenience that your plan would have," he added, "would be that people from poverty-stricken holes would pour into the perfect towns and upset the equilibrium."
"Then we should have to restrict the right of citizenship."
"But I consider that an injustice. The land should be free to all."
"Yes, that's true."
"And religion? None whatever? Like animals," she said ironically.
"Like animals, and like some illustrious philosophers, dear sister," he replied. "At the turn of a road, among the foliage, we would place a marble statue adorned with flowers. Don't you agree, doctor?"
"It seems to me a very good idea."
"Above all, for me the great thing would be to forget death and sorrow a little," he asserted. "Not so many church-bells should be heard. I believe that we ought even to suppress the maxim about love for one's neighbour. Make it the duty of the state or the municipality to take care of the sick and the crippled, and leave men the illusion of living healthy in a healthy world."
"Ah! What very ugly ideas you have!" she exclaimed.
"Yes, that one seems a bit hard to me," said I.
We were walking down toward the town by a steep and rocky path. It was beginning to grow dusk, the river shone with silvery reflections, and the toads broke the silence of the twilight with the sonorous, flute-like note of their croaking.
On arriving at the highway we said good-bye; they took the stage, which was passing at that moment in the direction of the springs, and I mounted my hack.

IN MY GARDEN
I had learned that the brother and sister were named Caesar and Laura, that she lived in Italy and was married.
Some days later, toward evening, they knocked at my house door. I let them in, showed them to my garden, and conducted them to a deserted summer-house, a few sticks put together, on the bank of the river.
Laura strolled through an orchard, gathered a few apples, and then, with her brother's aid and mine, seated herself on the trunk of a tree that leant over the river, and sat there gazing at it.
While she was taking it in, her brother Caesar started to talk. Without any preliminary explanation, he talked to me about his family, about his life, about his ideas and