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Updated: June 16, 2025
The Abbe Cittadella looked very serious and remarked that it is necessary to believe, or at least to seem to believe, in the truths of religion. "Is the Cardinal supposed to have money?" asked Caesar. "Yes, I should say he is," replied Preciozi. "Your sister and you will be the only heirs," said Cittadella. "Of course," agreed Preciozi. "Has he made a will?" asked Caesar.
Preciozi got together all his information, which was not much. They went by the Via Monte Tarpea, and came back by the Via della Consolazione. "They must have thrown people who were already dead off the Tarpeian Rock," said Caesar, after hearing the explanation. "No, no." "But if they threw them down alive, the majority of those they chucked down here would not have died.
"What amazement I shall produce in you, my dear abbe, when I tell you that all my knowledge in respect to the Capitol reduces itself to the fact that some orator, I don't know who, said that near the Capitol is the Tarpeian Rock." "You know nothing more about it?" "Nothing more. I don't know if Cicero said that, or Castelar, or Sir Robert Peel." Preciozi burst into merry laughter.
"If that chap meets any one in the road, he plants his umbrella in his chest, and demands his money or his... eternal life." "Yes, he is a disagreeable man," agreed Preciozi. They continued their walk, through the Piazza Cavallegeri and outside the walls.
"And why so?" "It seems to me a poor job. It's evident that one doesn't make much at it." Cittadella sighed. "Yes, and what's more," Preciozi put in, "this gentleman says to anybody who cares to listen, that religion is a farce, that Catholicism is like a dish of Jewish meat with Roman sauce. Is it possible that a Cardinal should bother about a nephew that talks like that?"
Preciozi was the only person who was able to give him any light in his investigations, because the guests at the hotel, most of them, on account of their position, thought of nothing but amusing themselves and of giving themselves airs. Caesar discovered that Preciozi was ambitious; but besides lacking an opening, he had not the necessary vigour and imagination to do anything.
"Yes; what I don't understand," replied Caesar, "is why, in a town where there is so much water, the hotel wash-basins are so small." Preciozi shrugged his shoulders. "What types you have in Rome!" Caesar went on. "What a variety of noses and expressions!
"What an admirable secretary Preciozi would be, if I got to be a personage!" exclaimed Caesar. "Twenty thousand francs or so salary, his board, and the duty of choosing the dinner for the next day. That's my proposal." The abbe blushed with pleasure, emptied his glass of wine, and murmured: "If it depended on me!" "The fact is that the way things are arranged today is no good," said Caesar.
"How would you like to go to that church in the Forum?" said Preciozi. "I was going to propose that we should go to the hotel; it must be lunch-time." "Come along." Caesar had Marsala and Asti brought for the abbe, who was a gourmet. While Preciozi ate and drank with all his jaws, Caesar devoted himself to teasing him.
"A hundred years ago, by the mere fact of being a Cardinal's nephew, I should have been somebody." "That's true," exclaimed Preciozi. "And as I should have no scruples, and neither would you two, we would have plunged into life strenuously, and sacked Rome, and the whole world would be ours." "You talk like a Caesar Borgia," said Preciozi, aroused. "You are a true Spaniard."
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