THE SENATOR PURSUES HIS INVESTIGATIONS.--AN INTELLIGENT ROMAN
TOUCHES A CHORD IN THE SENATOR'S HEART THAT VIBRATES.--RESULTS OF
THE VIBRATION.--A VISIT FROM THE ROMAN POLICE; AND THE GREAT RACE
DOWN THE CORSO BETWEEN THE SENATOR AND A ROMAN SPY.--GLEE OF THE
POPULACE!--HI! HI!
He did not ask for frogs again; but still he did not falter in his
examination into the life of the people. Still he sauntered through
the remoter corners of Rome, wandering over to the other side of the
Tiber, or through the Ghetto, or among the crooked streets at the
end of the Corso. Few have learned so much of Rome in so short a
time.
On one occasion he was sitting in a café, where he had supplied his
wants in the following way:
"Hi! coffee! coffee!" and again, "Hi! cigar! cigar!" when his eye
was attracted by a man at the next table who was reading a copy of
the London _Times_, which he had spread out very ostentatiously.
After a brief survey the Senator walked over to his table and, with
a beaming smile, said--
"Good-day, Sir."
The other man looked up and returned a very friendly smile.
"And how do you do, Sir?"
"Very well, I thank you," said the other, with a strong Italian
accent.
"Do you keep your health?"
"Thank you, yes," said the other, evidently quite pleased at the
advances of the Senator.
"Nothing gives me so much pleasure," said the Senator, "as to come
across an Italian who understands English. You, Sir, are a Roman,
I presume."
"Sir, I am."
The man to whom the Senator spoke was not one who would have
attracted any notice from him if it had not been for his knowledge
of English. He was a narrow-headed, mean-looking man, with very
seedy clothes, and a servile but cunning expression.
"How do you like Rome?" he asked of the Senator.
The Senator at once poured forth all that had been in his mind since
his arrival. He gave his opinion about the site, the architecture,
the drains, the municipal government, the beggars, and the commerce
of the place; then the soldiers, the nobles, the priests, monks,
and nuns.
Then he criticised the Government, its form, its mode of
administration, enlarged upon its tyranny, condemned vehemently
its police system, and indeed its whole administration of every
thing, civil, political, and ecclesiastical.
Waxing warmer with the sound of his own eloquence, he found
himself suddenly but naturally reminded of a country where all
this is reversed. So he went on to speak about Freedom,
Republicanism, the Rights of Man, and the Ballot-Box. Unable to
talk with sufficient fluency while in a sitting posture he rose
to his feet, and as he looked around, seeing that all present
were staring at him, he made up his mind to improve the occasion.
So he harangued the crowd generally, not because he thought any of
them could understand him, but it was so long since he had made a
speech that the present opportunity was irresistible. Besides, as
he afterward remarked, he felt that it was a crisis, and who could
tell but that a word spoken in season might produce some beneficial
effects.
He shook hands very warmly with his new friend after it all was
over, and on leaving him made him promise to come and see him at his
lodgings, where he would show him statistics, etc. The Senator then
returned.
That evening he received a visit. The Senator heard a rap at his door
and called out "Come in." Two men entered--ill-looking, or rather
malignant-looking, clothed in black.
Dick was in his room, Buttons out, Figgs and the Doctor had not
returned from the café.
"His Excellency," said he, pointing to the other, "wishes to speak
to you on official business."
"Happy to hear it," said the Senator.
"His Excellency is the Chief of the Police, and I am the
Interpreter."
Whereupon the Senator shook hands with both of them again.
"Proud to make your acquaintance," said he. "I am personally
acquainted with the Chief of the Boston _po_lice, and also of the
Chief of the New York _po_lice, and my opinion is that they can
stand more liquor than any men I ever met with. Will you liquor?"
The interpreter did not understand. The Senator made an expressive
sign. The interpreter mentioned the request to the Chief, who shook
his head coldly.
"This is formal," said the Interpreter-"not social."
The Senator's face flushed. He frowned.
"Give him my compliments then, and tell him the next time he
refuses a gentleman's offer he had better do it like a gentleman.
For my part, if I chose to be uncivil, I might say that I consider
your Roman police very small potatoes."
[Illustration: Got You There!]
The Interpreter translated this literally, and though the final
expression was not very intelligible, yet it seemed to imply
contempt.
So the Chief of Police made his communication as sternly as possible.
Grave reports had been made about His American Excellency. The
Senator looked surprised.
"What about?"
That he was haranguing the people, going about secretly, plotting,
and trying to instill revolutionary sentiments into the public mind.
"Pooh!" said the Senator.
The Chief of Police bade him be careful. He would not be permitted
to stir up an excitable populace. This was to give him warning.
"Pooh!" said the Senator again.
And if he neglected this warning it would be the worse for him. And
the Chief of Police looked unutterable things. The Senator gazed at
him sternly and somewhat contemptuously for a few minutes.
"You're no great shakes anyhow," said he.
"Signore?" said the Interpreter.
"Doesn't it strike you that you are talking infernal nonsense?" asked
the Senator in a slightly argumentative tone of voice, throwing one
leg over another, tilting back his chair, and folding his arms.
"Your language is disrespectful," was the indignant reply.
"Yours strikes me as something of the same kind, too; but more
--it is absurd."
"What do you mean?"
"You say I stir up the people."
"Yes. Do you deny it?"
"Pooh! How can a man stir up the people when he can't speak a word
of the language?"
The Chief of Police did not reply for a moment.
"I rather think I've got you there," said the Senator, dryly. "Hey?
old Hoss?"
("Old Hoss" was an epithet which he used when he was in a good humor.)
He felt that he had the best of it here, and his anger was gone. He
therefore tilted his chair back farther, and placed his feet upon
the back of a chair that was in front of him.
"There are Italians in Rome who speak English," was at length the
rejoinder.
"I wish I could find some then," said the Senator. "It's worse than
looking for a needle in a hay-stack, they're so precious few."
"You have met one."
"And I can't say feel over-proud of the acquaintance," said the
Senator, in his former dry tone, looking hard at the Interpreter.
"At the Café Cenacci, I mean."
"The what? Where's that?"
"Where you were this morning."
"Oh ho! that's it--ah? And was my friend there one of your friends
too?" asked the Senator, as light burst in upon him.
"He was sufficiently patriotic to give warning."
"Oh--patriotic?--he was, was he?" said the Senator, slowly, while
his eyes showed a dangerous light.
"Yes--patriotic. He has watched you for some time."
"Watched me!" and the Senator frowned wrathfully.
"Yes, all over Rome, wherever you went."
"Watched me! dogged me! tracked me! Aha?"
"So you are known."
"Then the man is a spy."
"He is a patriot."
"Why the mean concern sat next me, attracted my attention by
reading English, and encouraged me to speak as I did. Why don't
you arrest him?"
"He did it to test you."
"To test me! How would he like me to test him?"
"The Government looks on your offense with lenient eyes."
"Ah!"
"And content themselves this time with giving you warning."
"Very much obliged; but tell your Government not to be alarmed. I
won't hurt them."
Upon this the two visitors took their leave.
[Illustration: Walking Spanish.]
The Senator informed his two friends about the visit, and thought
very lightly about it; but the recollection of one thing rankled in
his mind.
That spy! The fellow had humbugged him. He had dogged him, tracked
him, perhaps for weeks, had drawn him into conversation, asked
leading questions, and then given information. If there was any thing
on earth that the Senator loathed it was this.
But how could such a man be punished! That was the thought. Punishment
could only come from one. The law could do nothing. But there was one
who could do something, and that one was himself. Lynch law!
"My fayther was from Bosting,
My uncle was Judge Lynch,
So, darn your fire and roasting,
You can not make me flinch."
The Senator hummed the above elegant words all that evening.
He thought he could find the man yet. He was sure he would know him.
He would devote himself to this on the next day. The next day he
went about the city, and at length in the afternoon he came to
Pincian Hill. There was a great crowd there as usual. The Senator
placed himself in a favorable position, in which he could only be
seen from one point, and then watched with the eye of a hawk.
He watched for about an hour. At the end of that time he saw a
face. It belonged to a man who had been leaning against a post with
his back turned toward the Senator all this time. It was _the face_!
The fellow happened to turn it far enough round to let the Senator
see him. He was evidently watching him yet. The Senator walked
rapidly toward him. The man saw him and began to move as rapidly
away. The Senator increased his pace. So did the man. The Senator
walked still faster. So did the man. The Senator took long strides.
The man took short, quick ones. It is said that the fastest
pedestrians are those who take short, quick steps. The Senator did
not gain on the other.
By this time a vast number of idlers had been attracted by the
sight of these two men walking as if for a wager. At last the
Senator began to run. So did the man!
The whole thing was plain. One man was chasing the other. At once
all the idlers of the Pincian Hill stopped all their avocations
and turned to look. The road winds down the Pincian Hill to the
Piazza del Popolo, and those on the upper part can look down and
see the whole extent. What a place for a race! The quick-eyed
Romans saw it all.
"A spy! yes, a Government spy!"
"Chased by an eccentric Englishman!"
A loud shout burst from the Roman crowd. But a number of English
and Americans thought differently. They saw a little man chased
by a big one. Some cried "Shame!" Others, thinking it a case of
pocket-picking, cried "Stop thief!" Others cried "Go it, little
fellow! Two to one on the small chap!"
Every body on the Pincian Hill rushed to the edge of the winding
road to look down, or to the paved walk that overlooks the Piazza.
Carriages stopped and the occupants looked down. French soldiers,
dragoons, guards, officers--all staring.
And away went the Senator. And away ran the terrified spy. Down
the long way, and at length they came to the Piazza del Popolo.
A loud shout came from all the people. Above and on all sides they
watched the race. The spy darted down the Corso. The Senator after
him.
The Romans in the street applauded vociferously. Hundreds of
people stopped, and then turned and ran after the Senator. All the
windows were crowded with heads. All the balconies were filled with
people.
Down along the Corso. Past the column of Antonine. Into a street on
the left. The Senator was gaining! At last they came to a square. A
great fountain of vast waters bursts forth there. The spy ran to the
other side of the square, and just as he was darting into a side alley
the Senator's hand clutched his coat-tails!
The Senator took the spy in that way by which one is enabled to make
any other do what is called "Walking Spanish," and propelled him
rapidly toward the reservoir of the fountain.
The Senator raised the spy from the ground and pitched him into the
pool.
The air was rent with acclamations and cries of delight.
As the spy emerged, half-drowned, the crowd came forward and would
have prolonged the delightful sensation.
Not often did they have a spy in their hands.
[Illustration: Dick Thinks It Over.]