"Yes, and there is another," said Buttons.
As he spoke he pointed to the flight of stone steps that goes up from the Piazza di Spagna. Dick looked up. There sat The Beggar!
Legless, hatless, but not by any means penniless, king of Roman beggars, with a European reputation, unequalled, in his own profession--there sat the most scientific beggar that the world has ever seen.
He had watched the recent proceedings, and caught the glance of the young men.
As they looked up his voice came clear and sonorous through the air:
"O most generous--0 most noble--O most illustrious youths--Draw near --Look in pity upon the abject--Behold legless, armless, helpless, the beggar Antonio forsaken of Heaven--For the love of the Virgin--For the sake of the saints--In the name of humanity--Date me uno mezzo baioccho--Sono poooocooooovero--Miseraaaaaaaaaabile-- Desperrrraaaaaaaado!"
THE MANIFOLD LIFE OF THE CAFÉ NUOVO, AND HOW THEY RECEIVED THE NEWS ABOUT MAGENTA.--EXCITEMENT.--ENTHUSIASM.--TEARS.--EMBRACES.
All modern Rome lives in the Café Nuovo. It was once a palace. Lofty ceilings, glittering walls, marble pavements, countless tables, luxurious couches, immense mirrors, all dazzle the eye. The hubbub is immense, the confusion overpowering.
The European mode of life is not bad. Lodgings in roomy apartments, where one sleeps and attends to one's private affairs; meals altogether at the café. There one invites one's friends. No delay with dinner; no badly-cooked dishes; no stale or sour bread; no timid, overworn wife trembling for the result of new experiments in housekeeping. On the contrary, one has: prompt meals; exquisite food; delicious bread; polite waiters; and happy wife, with plenty of leisure at home to improve mind and adorn body.
The first visit which the Club paid to the Café Nuovo was an eventful one. News had just been received of the great strife at Magenta. Every one was wild. The two _Galignani's_ had been appropriated by two Italians, who were surrounded by forty-seven frenzied Englishmen, all eager to get hold of the papers. The Italians obligingly tried to read the news. The wretched mangle which they made of the language, the impatience, the excitement, and the perplexity of the audience, combined with the splendid self-complacency of the readers, formed a striking scene.