"And how he bore it! The Senator is a great man. But come. Don't let us speak for an hour, for we are both unable to talk coherently." From patriotic motives the two young men walked behind the Senator's carriage and cheered all the way. Upon arriving at their lodgings in the evening they stationed themselves at the window and looked out upon the illuminated scene. Dick, finding his emotions too strong to be restrained, took his trombone and entertained a great crowd for hours with all the national airs he knew. CHAPTER XLV. THE PRIVATE OPINION OF THE DOCTOR ABOUT FOREIGN TRAVEL.--BUTTONS STILL MEETS WITH AFFLICTIONS. "The Italians, of at any rate the people of Florence, have just about as much cuteness as you will find anywhere." Such was the dictum of the Senator in a conversation with his companions after rejoining them at the hotel. They had much to ask; he had much to tell. Never had he been more critical, more approbative. He felt now that he thoroughly understood the Italian question, and expressed himself in accordance with his consciousness. "Nothing does a feller so much good," said he, "as mixing in all grades of society. It won't ever do to confine our observation to the lower class. We must mingle with the upper crust, who are the leaders of the people." "Unfortunately," said Buttons, "we are not all Senators, so we have to do the best we can with our limited opportunities." They had been in Florence long enough, and now the general desire was to go on. Mr. Figgs and the Doctor had greatly surprised the Senator by informing him that they did not intend to go any further. And why not? "Well, for my own part," said Mr. Figgs, "the discomforts of travel are altogether too great. It would not be so bad in the winter, but think how horribly hot it is. What is my condition? That of a man slowly suffocating. Think how fat I am. Even if I had the enthusiasm of Dick, or the fun of Buttons, my fat would force me to leave. Can you pretend to be a friend of mine and still urge me to go further? And suppose we passed over into Austrian territory. Perhaps we might be unmolested, but it is doubtful. Suppose, for the sake of argument, that we were arrested and detained. Imagine us--imagine _me_ shut up in a room--or worse, a cell--in the month of July in midsummer, in the hottest part of this burning fiery furnace of a country! What would be left of me at the end of a week, or at the end of even one day? What? A grease spot! A grease spot! Not a bit more, by Jingo!" [Illustration: A Grease Spot.] After this speech, which was for him one of extraordinary length and vigor, Mr. Figgs fell exhausted into his chair. "But you, Doctor," said the Senator, seeing that Mr. Figgs was beyond the reach of persuasion--"you--what reason is there for you to leave? You are young, strong, and certainly not fat." "No, thank heaven! it is not the heat, or the fear of being suffocated in an Austrian dungeon that influences me."