Part 2 (2/2)
”Well, Caesar, let us go to the hotel,” she said; ”it is very late.”
”I will escort you a little way,” I suggested.
We went out on the highway. The night was palpitating as it filled itself with stars. Laura hummed Neapolitan songs. We walked along a little while without speaking, gazing at Jupiter, who shone resplendent.
”And you have the conviction that you will succeed?” I suddenly asked Caesar. ”Yes. More than anything else I have the vocation for being an instrument. If I win success, I shall be a great figure; if I go to pieces, those who know me will say: 'He was an upstart; he was a thief.'
Or perhaps they may say that I was a poor sort, because men who have the ambition to be social forces never get an unprejudiced epitaph.”
”And what will you do in a practical way, if you succeed?”
”Something like what you dream of. And how shall I do it? By destroying magnates, by putting an end to the power of the rich, subduing the middle-cla.s.s... I would hand over the land to the peasants, I would send delegates to the provinces to make hygiene obligatory, and my dictators.h.i.+p should tear the nets of religion, of property, of theocracy....”
”What nonsense!” murmured Laura.
”My sister doesn't believe in me,” Caesar exclaimed, smiling.
”Oh, yes, _bambino_,” she replied. ”Yes, I believe in you. Only, why must you have such silly ambitions?”
We were getting near the bath establishment, and when we came in front of it we said good-bye.
Laura was starting the next day to Biarritz, and Caesar for Madrid.
We pressed one another's hands affectionately.
”Good-bye!”
”Good-bye, doctor!”
”Good luck!”
They went along toward the establishment, and I returned home by the highway, envying the energy of that man, who was getting himself ready to fight for an ideal. And I thought with melancholy of the monotonous life of the little town.
PART ONE. ROME
I. THE PARIS-VENTIMIGLIA EXPRESS
_Ma.r.s.eILLES!_
The fast Paris-Ventimiglia train, one of the Grand European Expresses, had stopped a moment at Ma.r.s.eilles.
It was about seven in the morning of a winter day. The huge cars, with their bevelled-gla.s.s windows, dripped water from all parts; the locomotive puffed, resting from its run, and the bellows between car and car, like great accordeons, had black drops slipping down their corrugations.
The rails shone; they crossed over one another, and fled into the distance until lost to sight. The train windows were shut; silence reigned in the station; from time to time there resounded a violent hammering on the axles; a curtain here or there was raised, and behind the misted gla.s.s the dishevelled head of a woman appeared.
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