“You’ve been with Carrara, I suppose, the principal part of the day? you seem to have become great friends in a very short space of time. Carrara’s a kind-hearted, eccentric creature: I never knew him to take so sudden a fancy to any one, as he has to you. I went to Tivoli again this morning, after you left me,” added my rattling friend, without waiting for an answer. “I was charmed; such pure air, delightful scenery; met Coningsby, he’s just from home, says he’s coming down to see you to-morrow; he’ll return before we do, so we can send letters by him, if you like, to your parents.”
We passed the magnificent arch of Constantine, and I paused to admire the exquisite fluting of the corinthian columns, and the statues of Dacian warriors, with which its front is adorned; while Morton strolled on ahead, picking wild flowers from the turf at his feet, and commenting upon the absurdity of old ruined arches, and sentimentalizing on ancient times.
We found, on reaching our hotel, that my valet Henri, had been passing away the time during my absence, by getting up a slight row with another fellow of his own stamp, in which he seemed to have got the worst of it, for he made his appearance with a black eye, and numerous other small wounds, in the shape of sundry scratches and knocks in the face from his assailant’s fists. He had a long and grievous complaint to make me, of the ill usage he had received, and finished his speech by cursing Rome and everything Roman, wishing himself safe back again in the land of his nativity, the green mountains of the Tyrol. I interrupted him, however, by my stern commands and solemn adjurations, not to implicate himself in another such a fracas, hinting the fact, that upon a second repetition of the same thing, he would be obliged to enter the service of some other individual than myself, as I could not tolerate such disgraceful conduct in a personal attendant. The poor fellow looked remarkably foolish on hearing my stern rebuke, and promised obedience for the future, adding in extenuation of his behavior, “that he had not sought the row: Gustave had provoked him beyond himself; when others let him alone, he let everybody else alone.”
I afterward discovered, to my great amusement, that the whole affair had originated from Gustave’s having taken a fancy to the same girl, of whom my valet Henri was also desperately enamored; the result was, Henri in a fit of jealous rage at her manifest preference for his rival, said some insulting things to Gustave, which the latter would not take, and they ended the matter by a personal encounter; not after the style of the renowned knight of La Mancha, but in the genuine old fashion of pummelling each other with their fists. Gustave possessing a more athletic form and stronger muscles than my unfortunate valet, succeeded in gaining a complete triumph over his rival in the courts of love. The whole affair was vastly ridiculous, and Morton and myself laughed vehemently at the discomfiture of poor Henri.
“After all,” laughed Morton, “isn’t it ridiculous to see what a devilish fool a man will make of himself for love of woman: it’s all the same thing from a king to a beggar; the feeling is the same, the manner of showing it alone, is different. Now I really do wonder if any woman could excite me to the pitch I’ve seen this poor fellow wound up to, to-day?”
“I dare say,” was my reply, “you and I are both human, and possess passions and feelings in common with every one else.”
“Well, I haven’t lost my heart since I’ve been here; that’s to say, if I really possessed any when I made my advent into this confounded old ruined place; as for you, I believe you’re in love with an inanimate picture. I prefer the real Simon pure flesh and blood myself; this falling in love with senseless canvass I consider quite absurd.”
“You need not take the trouble to tell me that, Morton,” I ejaculated, bursting into a fit of uproarious laughter; “one need only look at your face, to be assured that your feelings are not by any means too Platonic.”
He laughed most heartily, although the jest was at his expense; and chancing to turn our eyes toward the door, we saw Peppo, who stood there bowing with all his might, like a chinese mandarin, and he informed us, after many demonstrations of respect and divers flourishes, that dinner awaited us in the new saloon, which had just been completed a few days previous. The saloon, which poor Peppo considered such a perfect chef-d’œuvre of architecture, proved to be a large, barn-like room, built of rough beams, stuccoed over with a coarse, inferior sort of plaster, very cold and comfortless looking, destitute of carpeting, and furnished with a long dining table, chairs set round it, and an iron lamp suspended from the ceiling, on this grand occasion of inaugurating us into our new dining-room; the dinner was extraordinarily fine, although everything was covered with oil and cayenne pepper in abundance, and Peppo officiated with becoming dignity.
This was Friday; the next day, Saturday, began the carnival, the great annual fête of Rome. We breakfasted earlier than usual, and Augustus joined the gay throng which crowded the streets in the direction of the Corso, where I agreed to join him, after having paid a morning call on Signor Carrara. Augustus declined accompanying me, as he said he wished to observe the populace and the different costumes before the sport began, and I, therefore, proceeded to Carrara’s house alone.