After many useless words they got to the concrete point that Caesar wanted to take up, Father Herreros's acquaintance in Spain, and the monk said that he knew a very rich widow who had property in Toledo. When Caesar went to Madrid, he would give him a letter of recommendation to her.

"I cannot keep you any longer now, because a Mexican lady is waiting for me," said Father Herreros.

Caesar arose, and after shaking the monk's fat hand, he left the convent. He returned to Rome on foot, crossing the river again, and looking at the Tiberine island; and arrived without hurrying at the hotel. He wrote to his friend Azugaray, requesting him to discover, by the indications he gave him, who the rich widow that had property in Toledo could be.

_THE LICENTIATE MIRo_

The next day Caesar decided to pursue his investigations, and went to see Father Miro.

Father Miro lived in a college in the Via Monserrato. Caesar inspected the map of Rome, looking for that street, and found that it is located in the vicinity of the Campo de' Fiori, and took his way thither.

The spring day was magnificent; the sky was blue, without a cloud; the tiled roofs of some of the palaces were decorated with borders of plants and flowers; in the street, dry and flooded with sunshine, a water-carrier in a cart full of fat, green bottles, pa.s.sed by, singing and cracking his whip.

Caesar crossed the Campo de' Fiori, a very lively, plebeian square, full of canvas awnings with open stalls of fruit under them. In the middle stood the statue of Giordano Bruno, with a crown of flowers around its neck.

Then he took the Via de' Cappellari, a narrow lane and dirty enough.

From one side to the other clothes were hung out to dry.

He came to the college and entered the church contiguous to it. He asked for Father Miro; a sacristan with a long moustache and a worn blue overcoat, took him to another entrance, made him mount an old wooden staircase, and conducted him to the office of the man he was looking for.

Father Miro was a tiny little man, dark and filthy, with a worn-out ca.s.sock, covered with dandruff, and a large dirty square cap with a big rosette.

"Will you tell me what you want?" said the little priest in a sullen tone.

Caesar introduced himself, and explained in a few words who he was and what he proposed.

Father Miro, without asking him to sit down, answered rapidly, saying that he had no acquaintance with matters of finance or speculation.

Caesar felt a shudder of anger at the rudeness with which he was treated by this draggled little priest, and felt a vehement desire to take him by the neck and twist it, like a chicken's.

Despite his anger, he did not change expression, and he asked the priest smilingly if he knew who could give him advice about those questions.

"You can see Father Ferrer at the Gregorian University, or Father Mendia. He is an encyclopedist. It was he who wrote the theological portion of the encyclical _Pascendi_, the one about Modernism. He is a man of very great learning."

"He will do. Many thanks," and Caesar turned toward the door.

"Excuse me for not having asked you to sit down, but..."

"No matter," Caesar replied, rapidly, and he went out to the stairs.

In view of the poor result of his efforts, he decided to go to the Gregorian University. He was told it was in the Via del Seminario, and supposed it must be the large edifice with little windowed bridges over two streets.

That edifice was the Collegio Romano; the Gregorian University was in the same street, but further on, opposite the Post Office Department.

Father Ferrer could not receive him, because he was holding a cla.s.s; and after they had gone up and come down and taken Caesar's card for Father Mendia, they told him he was out.

Caesar concluded that it was not so easy to find a crack through which one could get information of what was going on in the clerical world.

"I see that the Church gives them all a defensive instinct which they make good use of. They are really only poor devils, but they have a great organization, and it cannot be easy to get one's fingers through the meshes of their net."

XII. A MEETING ON THE PINCIO

_A WALK IN THE VILLA BORGHESE_

At the beginning of Holy Week Laura returned to the hotel, at lunch-time.

"And your husband?" Caesar asked her.

"He didn't want to come. Rome bores him. He is giving all his attention to taking care of the heart-disease he says he has."

"Is it serious?"

"I think not. Every time I see him I find him with a new disease and a new diet; one time it is vegetarian, another nothing but meat, another time he says one should eat only grapes, or nothing but bread."

"Then I see that he belongs to the ill.u.s.trious brotherhood of the insane."

"You are not far from joining that brotherhood yourself."

"Dear sister, I am one of the few sane men that go stumbling around this insane asylum let loose we call the earth."

"What you say about men is the truth, even though you are not an exception. Really, the more I have to do with men, the more convinced I am that any one of them who is not crazy, is stupid or vain or proud....

How much more intelligent, discreet, logical we women are!"

"Don't tell me. You are marvels; modest, kindly toward your rivals, so little given to humiliating your neighbours, male or female...."

"Yes, yes; but we are not so conceited or such play-actors as you are.

A woman may think herself pretty and amiable and sweet, and not be so.

That is true; but on the other hand, every man thinks himself braver than the Cid, even if he is afraid of a fly, and more talented than Seneca, even if he is a dolt."

"To sum up, men are a calamity."

"Just so."

"And women spend their lives fishing for these calamities."

"They need them; there are inferior things which still are necessary."

"And there are superior things which are good for nothing."

"Will you come and take a drive with me, philosopher brother?"

"Where?"