"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 Caesar, 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; Caesar had said to him: "Don
Calixto, you understand everything, by intuition." And being thus
reassured, Don Calixto kept uttering terrible absurdities.

One day Don Calixto went to see the Pope, in evening clothes and
with his abdomen covered with decorations, and he asked Caesar if
a photographer couldn't take his picture in the act of leaving the
carriage, so that the photograph would have Saint Peter's as a
background.

"Yes, I think so. Why not? The only thing will be that the photographer
will charge you more."

"I don't mind that. Could you arrange it for me?"

"Yes, man."

What Don Calixto desired was done.

"How did the Pope impress you?" Caesar asked him as he came out

"Very favourably, very favourably indeed."

"He has a stupid face, hasn't he?"

"No, man, not at all. He is like a nice country priest. His predecessor
was no doubt more of a diplomat, more intelligent."

"Yes, the other seemed more of a rogue," said Caesar, laughing at the
precautions Don Calixto took in giving his opinion.

The proofs of the photographs came in the evening, and Don Calixto was
enchanted with them. In one of them you could see the Swiss guard at
the door, with his lance. It was splendid. Don Calixto would not permit
Caesar to go to his hotel, but invited him for dinner; and after dinner
told him he was so indebted that he would be delighted to do anything
Caesar asked him.

"Why don't you make me a Deputy?" said Caesar, laughing.

"Do you want to be one?"

"Yes, man."

"Really?"

"I should think so."

"But you would have to live in Madrid."

"Certainly."

"Would you leave here?"

"Yes, why not?"

"Then, not another word, we will say no more about it. When the time
comes, you will write to me and say: 'Don Calixto, the moment has
arrived for you to remember your promise: I want to be a Deputy.'"

"Very g