Caesar or Nothing | Page 7

Laura invited the young Englishman to enter.
"My brother Caesar," she said, introducing them, "Archibaldo Marchmont."
They both bowed, and Marchmont said to Laura in French:
"You are very cruel, Marchesa."
"Why?"
"Because you run away from us people who admire and like you. My wife asked me to present her to you. Would you like her to come?"
"Oh, no! She mustn't disturb herself. I will go to her."
"Assuredly not. One moment."
Marchmont went out into the corridor and presented his wife to Laura and to Caesar.
An animated conversation sprang up among them, interrupted by Laura's exclamations of delight on passing one or another of the wonderful views along the Riviera.
"You are a Latin, Marchesa, eh?" said Marchmont.
"Altogether. This is our sea. Every time I look at it, it enchants me."
"You are going to stop at Nice?"
"No, my brother and I are on our way to Rome."
"But Nice will be magnificent...."
"Yes, that's true; but we have made up our minds to go to Rome to visit our uncle, the Cardinal."
The Englishman made a gesture of annoyance, which did not go unperceived by his wife or by Laura. On arriving at Nice, the Englishman and his Yankee wife got out, after promising that they would be in Rome before many days.
Laura and Caesar remained alone and chatted about their fellow-travellers. According to Laura, the couple did not get along well and they were going to separate.

IN ITALY
In the middle of the afternoon they arrived at Ventimiglia and changed trains.
"Are we in Italy now?" said Caesar.
"Yes."
"It seems untidier than France."
"Yes; but more charming."
The train kept stopping at almost all the little towns along the route. In a third-class car somebody was playing an accordeon. It was Sunday. In the towns they saw people in their holiday clothes, gathered in the square and before the caf��s and the eating-places. On the roads little two-wheeled carriages passed quickly by.
It began to grow dark; in the hamlets situated on the seashore fishermen were mending their nets. Others were hauling up the boats to run them on to the beach, and children were playing about bare-footed and half-naked.
The landscape looked like a theatre-scene, the setting for a romantic play. They were getting near Genoa, running along by beaches. It was growing dark; the sea came right up to the track; in the starry, tranquil night only the monotonous music of the waves was to be heard.
Laura was humming Neapolitan songs. Caesar looked at the landscape indifferently.
On reaching Genoa they had supper and changed trains.
"I am going to lie down awhile," said Laura.
"So am I."
Laura took off her hat, her white cape, and her jacket.
"Good-night, bambino," she said.
"Good-night. Shall I turn down the light?"
"As you like." Caesar turned down the light and stretched himself out. He couldn't sleep in trains and he got deep into a combination of fantastical plans and ideas. When they stopped at stations and the noise of the moving train was gone from the silence of the night, Caesar could hear Laura's gentle breathing.
A little before dawn, Caesar, tired of not sleeping, got up and started to take a walk in the corridor. It was raining; on the horizon, below the black, starless sky, a vague clarity began to appear. Caesar took out his Proudhon book and immersed himself in it.
When it began to be day they were already getting near Rome. The train was running through a flat, treeless plain of swampy aspect, covered with green grass; from time to time there was a poor hut, a hay-stack, on the uninhabited, monotonous stretch.
The grey sky kept on resolving itself into a rain which, at the impulse of gusts of wind, traced oblique lines in the air.
Laura had waked and was in the dressing-room. A little later she came out, fresh and hearty, without the least sign of fatigue.
They began to see the yellowish walls of Rome, and certain big edifices blackened by the wet. A moment more and the train stopped.
"It's not worth the trouble to take a cab," said Laura. "The hotel is here, just a step."
They gave a porter orders to attend to the luggage. Laura took her brother's arm, they went out on the Piazza Esedra, and entered the hotel.

II
AN EXTRAORDINARY FAMILY
_JUAN GUILL��N_
The Valencian family of Guill��n was really fecund in men of energy and cleverness. It is true that with the exception of Father Francisco Guill��n and of his nephew Juan Fort, none of them became known; but in spite of the fact that the members of this family lived in obscurity in a humble sphere, they performed deeds of unheard-of valour, daring, and impertinence.
Juan Guill��n, the first of the Guill��ns whose memory is preserved, was a highwayman of Villanueva.
What motives for vengeance Juan Guill��n had against the Peyr�� family is not known. The old folk of the period, two or three who are