Caesar or Nothing | Page 6

at the end Laura and Caesar had installed
themselves.

"Did you sleep, sister?" he asked.
"Yes. I did. Splendidly. And you?"
"I didn't. I can't sleep on the train."
"That's evident."
"I look so bad, eh?" and Caesar examined himself in one of the car
mirrors. "I certainly am absurdly pale."
"The weather is just as horrible as ever," she added.
They had left a Paris frozen and dark. During the whole night the cold
had been most intense. One hadn't been able to put a head outside the
car; snow and a furious wind had had their own violent way.
"When we reach the Mediterranean, it will change," Laura had said.
It had not; they were on the edge of the sea and the cold continued
intense and the weather dark.

HOW BEAUTIFUL!
The train began its journey again; the houses of Marseilles could be
seen through the morning haze; the Mediterranean appeared, greenish,
whitish, and fields covered with hoar-frost.
"What horrid weather!" exclaimed Laura, shuddering. "I dislike the
cold more and more all the time."
The dining-car waiter came and filled their cups with _café-au-lait_.
Laura drew off her gloves and took one of the hot cups between her
white hands.
"Oh, this is comforting!" she said.
Caesar began to sip the boiling liquid.
"I don't see how you can stand it. It's scalding."
"That's the way to get warm," replied Caesar, undisturbed.
Laura began to take her coffee by spoonfuls. Just then there come into
the dining-car a tall blond gentleman and a young, charming lady, each
smarter than the other. The man bowed to Laura with much formality.
"Who is he?" asked Caesar.
"He is the second son of Lord Marchmont, and he has married a
Yankee millionairess."
"You knew him in Rome?"
"No, I knew him at Florence last year, and he paid me attention rather
boldly."
"He is looking at you a lot now."

"He is capable of thinking that I am off on an adventure with you."
"Possibly. She is a magnificent woman."
"Right you are. She is a marvel. She is almost too pretty. She shows no
character; she has no air of breeding." "There doesn't seem to be any
great congeniality between them."
"No, they don't get on very well. But come along, pay, let's go. So
many people are coming in here."
Laura got up, and after her, Caesar. As she passed, one heard the swish
of her silk petticoats. The travellers looked at her with admiration.
"I believe these people envy me," said Caesar philosophically.
"It's quite possible, bambino," she responded, laughing.
They entered their compartment. The train was running at full speed
along the coast. The greenish sea and the cloudy sky stretched away
and blotted out the horizon. At Toulon the bad weather continued; a bit
beyond, the sun came out, pallid in the fog, circled with a yellowish
halo; then the fog dispersed rapidly and a brilliant sun made the
snow-covered country shine.
"Oh! How beautiful!" exclaimed Laura.
The dense pure snow had packed down. The grape-vines broke up this
white background symmetrically, like flocks of crows settled on the
earth; the pines held high their rounds of foliage, and the cypresses,
stern and slim, stood out very black against all the whiteness.
On passing Hyères, as the train turned away from the shore, running
inland, grim snowy mountains began for some while to be visible, and
the sun vanished among the clouds; but when the train came out once
more toward the sea, near San Rafael, suddenly,--as if a theatrical
effect had been arranged,--the Mediterranean appeared, blue, flooded
with sunshine, full of lights and reflections. The sky stretched radiant
above the sea, without a cloud, without a shred of vapour.
"How marvellous! How beautiful!" Laura again exclaimed,
contemplating the landscape with emotion. "These blessed countries
where the sun is!"
"They have no other drawback, than that the men who inhabit them are
a trifle vague," said Caesar.
"Bah!"
The air had grown milder; on the surface of the sea patterns of silver
foam, formed by the beating of the waves, widened themselves out; the

sun's reflection on the restless waters made shining spots and rays,
flaming swords that dazzled the eye.
The train seemed to puff joyfully at submerging itself in this bland and
voluptuous atmosphere; the palm-trees of Cannes came surging up like
a promise of felicity, and the Côte d'Azur began to show its luminous
and splendid beauty.
Caesar, tired of so much light, took a book from his pocket: _The
Speculator's Manual_ of Proudhon, and set to reading it attentively and
to marking the passages that struck him as interesting.

THE ENGLISHMAN AND HIS WIFE
Laura, when she was not watching the landscape, was looking at those
who came and went in the