On his first inquiry he was told, with the impertinence peculiar to hired hackney-coachmen and inn-keepers with their houses full, that there was no room for him at the Hotel de Londres.
Then he sent his card to Signor Pastrini, and asked for Albert de Morcerf.
This plan succeeded; and Signor Pastrini himself ran to him, excusing himself for having made his excellency wait, scolding the waiters, taking the candlestick from the porter, who was ready to pounce on the traveller and was about to lead him to Albert, when Morcerf himself appeared.
The apartment consisted of two small rooms and a parlor.
The two rooms looked onto the street—a fact which Signor Pastrini commented upon as an inappreciable advantage.
The rest of the floor was hired by a very rich gentleman who was supposed to be a Sicilian or Maltese; but the host was unable to decide to which of the two nations the traveller belonged.
"Very good, signor Pastrini," said Franz; "but we must have some supper instantly, and a carriage for tomorrow and the following days."
"As to supper," replied the landlord, "you shall be served immediately; but as for the carriage"—
"What as to the carriage?" exclaimed Albert. "Come, come, Signor Pastrini, no joking; we must have a carriage."
"Sir," replied the host, "we will do all in our power to procure you one—this is all I can say."
"And when shall we know?" inquired Franz.
"To-morrow morning," answered the inn-keeper.
"Oh, the deuce! then we shall pay the more, that's all, I see plainly enough.
At Drake's or Aaron's one pays twenty-five lire for common days, and thirty or thirty-five lire a day more for Sundays and feast days; add five lire a day more for extras, that will make forty, and there's an end of it."
"I am afraid if we offer them double that we shall not procure a carriage."
"Then they must put horses to mine.
It is a little worse for the journey, but that's no matter."
"There are no horses."
Albert looked at Franz like a man who hears a reply he does not understand.
"Do you understand that, my dear Franz—no horses?" he said, "but can't we have post-horses?"
"They have been all hired this fortnight, and there are none left but those absolutely requisite for posting."
"What are we to say to this?" asked Franz.
"I say, that when a thing completely surpasses my comprehension, I am accustomed not to dwell on that thing, but to pass to another.
Is supper ready, Signor Pastrini?"
"Yes, your excellency."
"Well, then, let us sup."
"But the carriage and horses?" said Franz.
"Be easy, my dear boy; they will come in due season; it is only a question of how much shall be charged for them."
Morcerf then, with that delighted philosophy which believes that nothing is impossible to a full purse or well-lined pocketbook, supped, went to bed, slept soundly, and dreamed he was racing all over Rome at Carnival time in a coach with six horses.
Chapter 33.
Roman Bandits.
The next morning Franz woke first, and instantly rang the bell.
The sound had not yet died away when Signor Pastrini himself entered.
"Well, excellency," said the landlord triumphantly, and without waiting for Franz to question him, "I feared yesterday, when I would not promise you anything, that you were too late—there is not a single carriage to be had—that is, for the last three days of the carnival."
"Yes," returned Franz, "for the very three days it is most needed."
"What is the matter?" said Albert, entering; "no carriage to be had?"
"Just so," returned Franz, "you have guessed it."
"Well, your Eternal City is a nice sort of place."
"That is to say, excellency," replied Pastrini, who was desirous of keeping up the dignity of the capital of the Christian world in the eyes of his guest, "that there are no carriages to be had from Sunday to Tuesday evening, but from now till Sunday you can have fifty if you please."
"Ah, that is something," said Albert; "to-day is Thursday, and who knows what may arrive between this and Sunday?"
"Ten or twelve thousand travellers will arrive," replied Franz, "which will make it still more difficult."
"My friend," said Morcerf, "let us enjoy the present without gloomy forebodings for the future."
"At least we can have a window?"
"Where?"
"In the Corso."
"Ah, a window!" exclaimed Signor Pastrini,—"utterly impossible; there was only one left on the fifth floor of the Doria Palace, and that has been let to a Russian prince for twenty sequins a day."
The two young men looked at each other with an air of stupefaction.
"Well," said Franz to Albert, "do you know what is the best thing we can do?
It is to pass the Carnival at Venice; there we are sure of obtaining gondolas if we cannot have carriages."
"Ah, the devil, no," cried Albert; "I came to Rome to see the Carnival, and I will, though I see it on stilts."