Caesar or Nothing | Page 7

corridor.
"The Englishman is lying in wait," Laura observed.
"What Englishman?" asked Caesar.
"The son of the lord."
"Ah, yes."
Caesar kept on reading, and Laura continued to watch the landscape
which hurried by outside the window. After a while she exclaimed:
"O Lord, what hideous things!"
"What things?"
"Those war-ships."
Caesar looked where his sister pointed. In a roadstead brilliant with
sunlight he saw two men-of-war, black and full of cannons.
"That's the way one ought to be to face life, armed to the teeth,"
exclaimed Caesar.
"Why?" asked Laura.
"Because life is hard, and you have to be as hard as it is in order to
win."
"You don't consider yourself hard enough?"
"No."
"Well, I think you are. You are like those rough, pointed rocks on the
shore, and I am like the sea.... They throw me off and I come back."
"That is because, perhaps, when you get down to it, nothing makes any
real difference to you."
"Oh, _bambino!_" exclaimed Laura, taking Caesar's hand with
affectionate irony. "You always have to be so cruel to your mamma."

Caesar burst into laughter, and kept Laura's hand between both of his.
"The Englishman feels sad looking at us," he said. "He doesn't dream
that I am your brother."
"Open the door, I will tell him to come in."
Caesar did so, and 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 cafés 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