'Yes,' said Van Brick, 'and so did time; and he got ahead of you about half an hour. Give me the towels.'
'Si, signore, behold them! See how fine they are! What an elegant fringe on them; and only twenty-five baiocchi a piece, fringe and all included.'
Van Brick, at last left in peace, plunged into the bath.
When he came out, he found he had half a scudo to pay for the water, half a scudo for towels, quarter of a scudo for soap, and another quarter scudo for a buono mano to the bath-girl. Total, one dollar and a half.
'Now,' soliloquized Van Brick, as he dressed himself, 'I have an arithmetical question to solve. If a Roman, by hard scratching, can earn twenty cents a day, and it costs him twenty-five cents for board and lodging, how long will it be before he saves up a dollar and a half to take a bath? But that intelligent maiden will tell me, I know.' He asked her.
'Signore, the Romans never bathe.'
'You mean the Catholic Romans, for the Pagan Romans didn't do any thing else.'
'They're all burning up in the inferno, Seguro!' said the maiden.
'But they had fifteen aqueducts to keep them cool when they were alive,' spoke Van Brick.
'Chi lo sa. We have three aqueducts, we Romans, and we have more water, yes, more water than we can—drink.'