The afternoon turned
out magnificent and Caesar went wandering about at random.

_THE CICERONE_

At twilight he returned to his inn, changed, and went to the salon.
Laura was conversing with a young abbe. "The Abbe Preciozi.... My
brother Caesar."

The Abbe Preciozi was one of the household of Cardinal Fort, who had
sent him to the hotel to act as cicerone to his nephew.

"Uncle has sent the abbe so that he can show you Rome." "Oh, many
thanks!" answered Caesar. "I will make use of his knowledge; but I
don't want him to neglect his occupations or to put himself out on my
account." "No, no. I am at your disposition," replied the abbe, "His
Eminence has given me orders to wait on you, and it will not put me out
in the least."

"You will have dinner with us, Preciozi?" said Laura.

"Oh, Marchesa! Thank you so much!"

And the abbe bowed ceremoniously.

The three dined together, and afterwards went to the salon to chat.
One of the San Martino young ladies played the viola and the other the
piano, and people urged them to exhibit their skill.

The talkative Neapolitan turned over the pieces of music in the
music-stand, and after discussing with the two _contessinas_, he placed
on the rack the "Intermezzo" from _Cavalleria Rusticana_.

The two sisters played, and the listeners made great eulogies about
their ability.

Laura presented Caesar and the Abbe Preciozi to the Countess Brenda and
to a lady who had just arrived from Malta.

"Did you know Rome before?" the Countess asked Caesar in French.

"No."

"And how does it strike you?"

"My opinion is of no value," said Caesar. "I am not an artist. Imagine;
my specialty is financial questions. Up to the present what has given me
the greatest shock is to find that Rome has walls."

"You didn't know it?" asked Laura.

"No."

"Dear child, I find that you are very ignorant."

"What do you wish?" replied Caesar in Spanish. "I am inclined to be
ignorant of everything I don't get anything out of."

Caesar spoke jokingly of a square like a hole in the ground, out of
which rises a white column similar to the one in Paris in the Place
Vendome.

"What does he mean? Trajan's column?" asked Preciozi. "It must be," said
Laura. "I have a brother who's a barbarian. Weren't you in the Forum,
too?"

"Which is the Forum? An open space where there are a lot of stones?"

"Yes."

"I passed by there; there were a good many tourists, crowds of young
ladies peering