“We have no influence, we are forestieri—” I began.
“Si capisce,” said the custode, “allow me at least to write the name of the gentleman.”
We had not a scrap of paper among us; I found a card of J.’s however; on the back of this the custode wrote the name and address of the gentleman with influence.
I asked the custode to take us to the Roman amphitheatre.
“Patienza,” he said, “what haste? Imagine! in this place the plays of Euripides were given, here Æschylus recited his own dramas!”
“Euripides again!” cried Patsy pulling out a book. “Listen to this: ‘Among the Athenian captives in the quarry, there were some who could repeat long passages from Euripides’ plays. These men were favored far above others; some were even freed for the poet’s sake, and long afterwards went back and found him and thanked him, branded as they were, for life and liberty.’”
The custode waited patiently, then took up his thread:
“Over there,” he pointed to the Roman amphitheatre, “the Romans pitted wild beasts against each other, sometimes against men. A Spanish priest, a great personaggio in the Church, had the arena excavated—you know the fanaticism of that people—on account of the Christians martyred there. The amphitheatre is not interesting—in comparison with the theatre, one understands.”
“He’s heard students talk,” said Patsy; “he’s all for Greek antiquities, has a proper scorn for Roman. Don’t you find it lonely here?” This last to the custode, in whose life and character he was already deeply interested.
“There are diversions,” the custode told him; “in other seasons, many visitors come; I have talked with almost all the sovereigns of Europe. The learned too from all over the world—what questions they ask! For this one I collect the weeds, for that one the butterflies. This year on account of the disaster, you might say, nobody comes—behold my companions!” He pointed to a white goat with curled horns cropping the grass in the old theatre; two beautiful little black kids frisked and butted each other at her side.