When they grew older and walked through the ancient streets, they became familiar with the picture of the babes and the wolf as seen on sign-boards and placards, as well as in marble and bronze reliefs. Thus the old legend grew into their lives, and they talked it over in wise baby fashion. Whenever they went to play hide-and-seek around the statue of Marcus Aurelius, in the Capitol square, they stopped long before the poor old caged wolves, and wondered why two wolves were kept, if Remus had to be killed for his bad behavior. Once they suggested to nurse that one wolf and two babies would seem more true to history; but when she replied that they would do splendidly for the babies, they dropped the subject, lest the city fathers hear of it in some way, and feel inclined to carry out so brilliant an idea.
In their own logical way, they were quite decided as to the place where Remus, in derision, jumped over the city wall, for it would be very easy to leap a certain low point up near the Macao, where they once went to see King Humbert review his troops in honor of the German Emperor's visit to Rome.
Of course mother wrote to America about the twins' sayings and doings, and one day they received a letter from the auntie whom they had never seen. She wrote that she had a globe of goldfish, and each fish had a name, except two tiny ones, which she would leave for them to name and to own when they came to see her in the spring.
The twins were very sober over this serious matter, though they did not even discuss the names, but from the start called their fish Romulus and Remus. When spring came, mother left for America with her five-year-olds, who stood the travelling well, and were made much of in the old home where mother spent her girlhood.
True to her promise, auntie gave them the fish in a tiny globe, and they would sit on the floor watching the goldies by the hour. It was a source of regret that they had no means of telling which was which, but one day they came pitching up stairs, too excited to speak plainly, "Oh, mother! we've 'scovered Remus, 'cause he jumped over." Sure enough, there lay the poor fish gasping on the floor, and although we put him back in the water immediately, he hobbled around for days with a broken fin, and moved stiffly ever afterwards.
With the autumn we prepared to journey Romeward, and sad good-byes were said. Everybody was in tears except the twins, and as we started for the train they appeared with the precious goldfish. Here was a dilemma! Mother said firmly that she could not possibly go all the way to Rome with more than one pair of twins. Grief and dismay made their eyes brim over, and uncle said: "Let's keep some dry eyes in this party. I'll bring the fish to the station." He brought them in a little tin pail with holes in the cover for air, and in this style Romulus and Remus set forth on their wanderings. The sleeping-car porter looked on them with a friendly eye, and thus we arrived safely in New York, where we went aboard a Mediterranean steamer bound for Naples. Mother left the twins with their pail in a safe place on deck, while she looked after the baggage. They were gone when she returned, and rather frightened, she rushed to her state-room, where she was still more startled to find the Captain stooping over something on the floor. He rose and spoke courteously, "I beg your pardon, madam, but I found the children and their Romans on deck. I am a Roman myself, and I will give orders that no one of this quartette lack for anything on my ship." Thanks to the Captain's patriotism, we had a most comfortable voyage as we steamed across the Atlantic and past Gibraltar, through the beautiful Mediterranean. The eyes of the twins opened wide when they reached Naples and saw the fires of Vesuvius, but in the hurry to reach Rome we drove straight to the railway station. As we stood in the long line of people who were pushing and crowding to the train, some impatient traveller jostled the pail so that poor Romulus and Remus wriggled on the stone floor. Mother almost abandoned them to their fate, but a porter was quick-witted enough to clap them into the pail and rush off for fresh water. He returned in time to hand them through the train window to their beaming owners, and with an eye to further reward he brought a bottle of water also. There is no water on Italian trains, and but for this happy thought the fish would have perished during the seven hours by rail to Rome. The swaying motion of the train was far worse than that of the steamer, and mother and twins were kept busy filling the pail as fast as the water splashed out. By-and-by we rolled into the Roman station, and father was so glad to see his loved ones that he declared he felt like eating the whole party, fish included.
Thus the little American goldfish came to live in the shadow of the Roman Capitol, in sight of their wolfish namesakes. Every visitor heard the story of their adventures, and one sympathetic listener brought them a new globe with two dear little bronze wolves in the bottom; but, alas! their stay on classic soil was brief. During the long sea-voyage they had lost their bright golden hue, and wore rather a pale, silvery look, so that the twins became anxious about the health of their pets. A fish-dealer said that goldfish thrive best when fed with the wafers used for taking medicine. Half a wafer was dropped in for their supper, but next morning poor Romulus and the wafer floated on the water together. The twins were inconsolable, till mother organized a grand funeral procession to the flat house-top, where Romulus was buried in state under a peach-tree which mother had grown in a packing-box from a seed brought from her American home.
Remus lived on alone without the luxury of wafers, for the fishman, when interviewed by the tearful twins, said that Romulus died of over-eating, since wafers are mince pie and plum-pudding to goldfish, who are such gluttons that they can be trusted with but a pin-point of their favorite dish. The tragic end of Romulus was forgotten in the joys of Christmas-time, when the twins showed some little Italian friends their first Christmas tree, for they know nothing of Santa Claus in Rome, but receive gifts from an old woman called Befana. She comes at Epiphany, when there is also a procession up the 124 marble steps that lead to the Ara Cœli Church, in which there is a "presepio," or representation of the infant Christ in the manger. The nursery window overlooked these steps, and just underneath was a fine array of toys and sweets to tempt the Roman children, who go every year to recite poetry before the "presepio." The twins spent the morning watching the crowd and driving an occasional bargain with the toy-seller beneath their window. They borrowed the servant's basket, which she lets down with a string, Roman fashion, when she hears the postman's knock and does not want to go down the long stairway to the portone, or big street door, to receive letters. They sent down pennies in the basket, and drew it up with the desired plaything, until lunch called them from their fascinating employment. Poor lonely Remus was set in the window to enjoy the fun, but on their return the globe was tenantless. The toy-woman below saw the dismayed little faces peeping over the window sill, and called up to say that she had picked up a dead fish on the cold marble step. The basket went down once more, and was drawn up slowly and sadly with poor Remus's body.
We buried him, too, under the peach-tree on the house-top, and set up the little bronze wolves for a double monument; but the twins have never wanted any more goldfish. They write their own letters now, and seal them with a tiny stamp of the Roman wolves; but to this day they bemoan the fact that while Remus met rather a historic fate, their favorite Romulus died a glutton. But father comforts them by saying that those "noble Romans" were very fond of good things, and their fish no doubt followed the example of many another Roman citizen.