“Verily,” he said, after his first archeological walk in Rome, “verily, it seems strange that after more than two thousand years have passed, all these monuments should still remain.”
“That is most true,” replied Cæsar, looking at him with his impassive air.
“I understand why Rome is the real school for learning, integrally, both ancient and modern history.”
“Most certainly,” agreed Cæsar.
Don Calixto, who knew neither Italian nor French, found a source of help, for the days he was to spend in Rome, in Cæsar’s friendship, and made him accompany him everywhere. Cæsar was able to collect and preserve, though not precisely cut in brass, the phrases Don Calixto uttered in front of the principal monuments of Rome.
In front of the Colosseum, his first exclamation was: “What a lot of stone!” Then recalling his role of orator, he exclaimed: “The spirits are certainly daunted and the mind darkened on thinking how men could have sunk to such abysses of evil.”
“Don Calixto is referring to those holes,” thought Cæsar, looking at the cellars of the Circo Romano.
From the Colosseum the carriage went to the Capitol, and then Don Calixto asserted with energy:
“One cannot deny that, say what you will, Rome is one of the places most fertile in memories.”
Don Calixto was an easy traveller for his cicerone. He far preferred talking to being given explanations; Cæsar had said to him: “Don Calixto, you understand everything, by intuition.” And being thus reassured, Don Calixto kept uttering terrible absurdities.