At the end of the week the travellers resumed their journey, not without an invitation from Monsieur Cadet to repeat their visit.
“Beati pauperes spiritu!” said Auguste as they left the farm. To which Bertrand replied:
“Yes, lieutenant. Here is one place at all events where you have behaved yourself.”
XXIV
A SKETCH OF ITALY
Auguste and Bertrand arrived at Turin, undelayed by any fresh adventure. They took rooms at a modest hotel, for, before continuing their journey, Auguste desired to make the acquaintance of that pleasant Italian city, where one may fancy oneself in France, and where reigns an attractive mixture of French manners and Italian morals. The ladies of Turin are pretty, agreeable and piquant; in addition to the charm of our Frenchwomen they have more fire in their glance, a more sensuous intonation to the voice, more abandon in their bearing. Bertrand, observing that his master gazed persistently at the Italian women, said to him again and again:
“Look out, lieutenant; we are travelling in search of fortune and not of conquests; we didn’t come to Italy to admire black eyes and Greek noses.”
“True, Bertrand; but as we find them here, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t admire them.”
“Remember, monsieur, that the fine arts alone are to occupy your mind.”
“The sight of a lovely woman kindles the flame of genius. Raphael was in love with his Madonna model.”
“Perhaps that wasn’t the best thing he did, lieutenant.”