To snatch his knife from his pocket, to cut the cords that bound the man, to lift him to his feet, and then to start back with a cry of astonishment, were all the work of an instant. By this time the others had entered.
The man was a German, unmistakably. He stood blinking and staring. Then he stretched his several limbs and rubbed himself. Then he took a long survey of the new-comers. Then he stroked a long, red, forked beard, and, in tones expressive of the most profound bewilderment, slowly ejaculated--
"Gr-r-r-r-acious me!"
"Meinheer Schatt!" cried Buttons, grasping his hand. "How in the name of wonder did you get here? What has happened to you? Who tied you up? Were you robbed? Were you beaten? Are you hurt? But come out of this dark hole to the sunshine."
Meinheer Schatt walked slowly out, saying nothing to these rapid inquiries of Buttons. The German intellect is profound, but slow; and so Meinheer Schatt took a long time to collect his scattered ideas. Buttons found that he was quite faint; so producing a flask from his pocket he made him drink a little precious cordial, which revived him greatly. After a long pull he heaved a heavy sigh, and looked with a piteous expression at the new-comers. The kind-hearted Spaniards insisted on taking him to their carriage. He was too weak to walk. They would drive him. They would listen to no refusal. So Meinheer Schatt was safely deposited in the carriage, and told his story.
He had come out very early in the morning to visit the Catacombs. He chose the early part of the day so as to be back before it got hot. Arriving at the Church of St. Sebastian he found to his disappointment that it was not open yet. So he thought he would beguile the time by walking about. So he strolled off to the tomb of Caecelia Metella, which was the most striking object in view. He walked around it, and broke off a few pieces of stone. He took also a few pieces of ivy. These he intended to carry away as relics. At last he ventured to enter and examine the interior. Scarce had he got inside than he heard footsteps without. The door was blocked up by a number of ill-looking men, who came in and caught him.
Meinheer Schatt confessed that he was completely overcome by terror.
However, he at last mustered sufficient strength to ask what they wanted.
"You are our prisoner."
"Why? Who are you?"
"We are the secret body-guard of His Holiness, appointed by the Sacred Council of the Refectory," said one of the men, in a mocking tone.
Then Meinheer Schatt knew that they were robbers. Still he indignantly protested he was an unoffending traveller.
"It's false! You have been mutilating the sacred sepulchre of the dead, and violating the sanctity of their repose!"
And the fellow, thrusting his hands in the prisoner's pockets, brought forth the stones and ivy. The others looked into his other pockets, examined his hat, made him strip, shook his clothes, pried into his boots--in short, gave him a thorough overhaul.
They found nothing, except, as Meinheer acknowledged, with a faint smile, a piece of the value of three half-cents American, which he had brought as a fee to the guide through the Catacombs. It was that bit of money that caused his bonds. It maddened them. They danced around him in perfect fury, and asked what he meant by daring to come out and give them so much trouble with only that bit of impure silver about him.
"Dog of a Tedescho! Your nation has trampled upon our liberties; but Italy shall be avenged! Dog! scoundrel! villain! Tedescho! Tedes-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-cho!"
The end of it was that Meinheer Schatt was tied in a singularly uncomfortable position and left there. He thought he had been there about five hours. He was faint and hungry.
They took him home.
CHAPTER XXXII
.
ANOTHER DISCOVERY MADE BY BUTTONS.
On the evening after this adventure the Don turned the conversation into a new channel. They all grew communicative. Buttons told them that his father was an extensive merchant and ship-owner in Boston. His business extended over many parts of the world. He thought he might have done something in Cadiz.
"Your father a ship-owner in Boston! I thought you belonged to New York," said the Don, in surprise.
"Oh," said Buttons, "I said I came from there. The fact is, I lived there four years at college, and will live there when I return."
"And your father lives in Boston," said the Don, with an interest that surprised Buttons.
"Yes."
"Is his name Hiram Buttons?"
"Yes," cried Buttons, eagerly. "How do you know?"
"My dear Sir," cried the Don, "Hiram Buttons and I are not only old business correspondents, but I hope I can add personal friends."
The Don rose and grasped Buttons cordially by the hand. The young man was overcome by surprise, delight, and triumph.
"I liked you from the first," said the Don. "You bear your character in your face. I was happy to receive you into our society. But now I feel a still higher pleasure, for I find you are the son of a man for whom I assure you I entertain an infinite respect."
The sisters were evidently delighted at the scene. As to Buttons, he was overcome.
Thus far he often felt delicacy about his position among them, and fears of intruding occasionally interfered with his enjoyment. His footing now was totally different; and the most punctilious Spaniard could find no fault with his continued intimacy.
"Hurrah for that abominable old office, and that horrible business to which the old gentleman tried to bring me! It has turned out the best thing for me. What a capital idea it was for the governor to trade with Cadiz!"
Such were the thoughts of Buttons as he went home.
CHAPTER XXXIII
.
[Transcriber's Note: Transliteration of Greek.] Brekekek koax koax koax. [TN: /end Greek.]
In his explorations of the nooks and corners of Rome the Senator was compelled for some time to make his journeys alone. He sometimes felt regret that he had not some interpreter with him on these occasions; but on the whole he thought he was well paid for his trouble, and he stored up in his memory an incredible number of those items which are usually known as "useful facts."
On one of these occasions he entered a very common café near one of the gates, and as he felt hungry he determined to get his dinner. He had long felt a desire to taste those "frogs" of which he had heard so much, and which to his great surprise he had never yet seen. On coming to France he of course felt confident that he would find frogs as common as potatoes on every dinner-table. To his amazement he had not yet seen one.
He determined to have some now. But how could he get them? How ask for them?
"Pooh! easy enough!" said the Senator to himself, with a smile of superiority. "I wish I could ask for every thing else as easily."
So he took his seat at one of the tables, and gave a thundering rap to summon the waiter. All the café had been startled by the advent of the large foreigner. And evidently a rich man, for he was an Englishman, as they thought. So up came the waiter with a very low bow, and a very dirty jacket; and all the rest of the people in the café looked at the Senator out of the corner of their eyes, and stopped talking. The Senator gazed with a calm, serene face and steady eye upon the waiter.
"Signore?" said the waiter, interrogatively.
"_Gunk_! _gung_!" said the Senator, solemnly, without moving a muscle.
The waiter stared.
"_Che vuol ella_?" he repeated, in a faint voice.
"_Gunk_! _gung_!" said the Senator, as solemnly as before.
"Non capisco."
"_Gunk gung_! _gunkety gunk gung_!"
The waiter shrugged his shoulders till they reached the upper part of his ears. The Senator looked for a moment at him, and saw that he did not understand him. He looked at the floor involved in deep thought. At last he raised his eyes once more to meet those of the waiter, which still were fixed upon him, and placing the palms of his hands on his hips, threw back his head, and with his eyes still fixed steadfastly upon the waiter he gave utterance to a long shrill gurgle such as he thought the frogs might give:
[Transcriber's Note: Transliteration of Greek.] Brekekekek koax koax, Brekekekek koax koax. [TN: /end Greek.]
Brekekekek koax koax!
[Illustration: Brekekekek koax koax!]
(Recurrence must be made to Aristophanes, who alone of articulate speaking men has written down the utterance of the common frog.)
The waiter started back. All the men in the café jumped to their feet.
"[Transcriber's Note: Transliteration of Greek.] Brekekekek koax koax [TN: /end Greek.]," continued the Senator, quite patiently. The waiter looked frightened.
"Will you give me some or not?" cried the Senator, indignantly.
"Signore," faltered the waiter. Then he ran for the café-keeper.
The café-keeper came. The Senator repeated the words mentioned above, though somewhat angrily. The keeper brought forward every customer in the house to see if any one could understand the language.
"It's German," said one.
"It's English," said another.
"Bah!" said a third. "It's Russian."
"No," said a fourth, "it's Bohemian; for Carolo Quinto said that Bohemian was the language of the devil." And Number Four, who was rather an intelligent-looking man, eyed the Senator compassionately.
"_Gunk gung, gunkety gung_!" cried the Senator, frowning, for his patience had at last deserted him.
The others looked at him helplessly, and some, thinking of the devil, piously crossed themselves. Whereupon the Senator rose in majestic wrath, and shaking his purse in the face of the café-keeper, shouted:
"You're worse than a nigger!" and stalked grandly out of the place.
CHAPTER XXXIV
.
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."
Got You There!
[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!"