Part 15 (1/2)
”Yes, but that will not impede my Spaniard's heart, my Cardinal's nephew's heart from bleeding grievously.... Shall we go to the cafe, Abbe?”
”Yes, let us go.”
_THE MARVELLOUS BIRD OF ROME_
They left the hotel and entered a cafe in the Piazza Esedra. Preciozi made a vague move to pay, but Caesar would not permit him to.
”What do you wish to do?” said the abbe.
”Whatever you like.”
”I have to go to the Altemps palace a moment.”
”To see my uncle?”
”Yes; then, if you feel like it, we can take a long walk.”
”Very good.”
They went towards the centre of the town by the Via n.a.z.ionale. It was a splendid sunny afternoon.
Preciozi went into the Altemps palace a moment; Caesar waited for him in the street. Then, together they went over to opposite the Castel Sant'
Angelo, crossed the river, and approached the Piazza di San Pietro. The atmosphere was wonderfully clear and pure; the suave blue sky seemed to caress the pinnacles and decorations of the big square.
Preciozi met a dirty friar, dark, with a black beard and a mouth from ear to ear. The abbe showed no great desire to stop and speak with him, but the other detained him. This party wore a habit of a brown colour and carried a big umbrella under his arm.
”There's a type!” said Caesar, when Preciozi rejoined him.
”Yes, he is a peasant,” the abbe said with disgust.
”If that chap meets any one in the road, he plants his umbrella in his chest, and demands his money or his... eternal life.”
”Yes, he is a disagreeable man,” agreed Preciozi.
They continued their walk, through the Piazza Cavallegeri and outside the walls. As they went up one of the hills there, they could see the facade of Saint Peter's continually nearer, with all the huge stone figures on the cornice. ”The fact is that that poor Christ plays a sad role there in the middle,” said Caesar.
”Oh! Oh! My friend,” exclaimed the abbe in protest.
”A plebeian Jew in the midst of so many princes of the Church! Doesn't it strike you as an absurdity?”
”No, not absurd at all.”
”The truth is that this religion of yours is Jewish meat with a Roman sauce.”
”And yours? What is yours?”
”Mine? I have not got past fetichism. I wors.h.i.+p the golden calf. Like the majority of Catholics.”