Chapter 74

THE MANIFOLD LIFE OF THE CAFE NUOVO, AND HOW THEY RECEIVED THE NEWS ABOUT MAGENTA.--EXCITEMENT.--ENTHUSIASM.--TEARS.--EMBRACES.

All modern Rome lives in the Cafe 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 cafe. 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 Cafe 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.

The Italians gathered in a vast crowd in one of the billiard-rooms, where one of their number, mounted on a table, was reading with terrific volubility, and still more terrific gesticulations, a private letter from a friend at Milan.

"Bravo!" cried all present.

In pronouncing which word the Italians rolled the "r" so tumultuously that the only audible sound was--

B-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-f-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ah! Like the letter B in a railway train.

The best of all was to see the French. They were packed in a dense mass at the furthest extremity of the Grand Saloon. Every one was talking. Every one was describing to his neighbor the minute particulars of the tremendous contest. Old soldiers, hoarse with excitement, emulated the volubility of younger ones. A thousand arms waved energetically in the air. Every one was too much interested in his own description to heed his neighbor. They were all talkers, no listeners.

A few Germans were there, but they sat forsaken and neglected. Even the waiters forsook them. So they smoked the cigars of sweet and bitter fancy, occasionally conversing in thick gutturals. It was evident that they considered the present occasion as a combined crow of the whole Latin race over the German. So they looked on with impassive faces.

Perhaps the most stolid of all was Meinheer Schatt, who smoked and sipped coffee alternately, stopping after each sip to look around with mild surprise, to stroke his forked beard, and to ejaculate--

"Gr-r-r-r-r-r-acious me!"

Him the Senator saw and accosted, who, making room for the Senator, conversed with much animation. After a time the others took seats near them, and formed a neutral party. At this moment a small-sized gentleman with black twinkling eyes came rushing past, and burst into the thick of the crowd of Frenchmen. At the sight of him Buttons leaped up, and cried:

"There's Francia! I'll catch him now!"

Francia shouted a few words which set the Frenchmen wild.

"The Allies have entered Milan! A dispatch has just arrived!"

There burst a shrill yell of triumph from the insane Frenchmen. There was a wild rushing to and fro, and the crowd swayed backward and forward. The Italians came pouring in from the other room. One word was sufficient to tell them all. It was a great sight to see. On each individual the news produced a different effect. Some stood still as though petrified; others flung up their arms and yelled; others cheered; others upset tables, not knowing what they were doing; others threw themselves into one another's arms, and embraced and kissed; others wept for joy:--these last were Milanese.

Buttons was trying to find Francia. The rush of the excited crowd bore him away, and his efforts were fruitless. In fact, when he arrived at the place where that gentleman had been, he was gone. The Germans began to look more uncomfortable than ever. At length Meinheer Schatt proposed that they should all go in a body to the Cafe Scacchi. So they all left.