“Yes, yes, I do care for it! But how can I take an interest in anything as long as I’m so uneasy? It’s the same at Rome with the sights. I’ve seen nothing; I’ve not tried to see anything.” “How well I understand you!” said Protos. “I’m like that too; I told you that ever since I’ve been in Rome I’ve spent the whole of my time between the Vatican and the Castle of St. Angelo.” “It’s a pity, but _you_ know Rome already.” In this way our travellers chatted. At Caserta they got down, and went each on his own account to the buffet, to get a sandwich or two and a drink. “At Naples too,” said Protos, “when we get near his villa we will part company, if you please. You must follow me at a distance; I shall want a little time first, especially if he isn’t alone, to explain who you are and the object of your visit, so you mustn’t come in till a quarter of an hour after me.” “I’ll take the opportunity of getting shaved. I hadn’t time this morning.” A tram took them as far as the Piazza Dante. “Let’s part here,” said Protos. “It’s still rather a long way off, but it’s better so. Walk about fifty paces behind me; and don’t look at me the whole time as if you were afraid of losing me; and don’t turn round either; you would get yourself followed. Look cheerful.” He started off in front. Fleurissoire followed with downcast eyes. The street was narrow and steep; the sun blazed; sweating, hustling, effervescing, the crowd clamoured and gesticulated and sang, while Fleurissoire panted bewildered through their midst. A number of half-naked children were dancing in front of a barrel organ; a kind of mountebank was getting up an impromptu lottery at two-sous the ticket, for a fat plucked turkey, which he was holding up at the end of a stick; Protos, to seem more natural, took a ticket as he passed, and disappeared into the crowd; Fleurissoire, unable to advance, thought he had lost him for good; then, after he had managed to get through the obstruction, he caught sight of him again, walking briskly up the hill, with the turkey under his arm. At last the houses became smaller and further apart, fewer people were to be seen, and Protos slackened his pace. He stopped in front of a barber’s shop and, turning to Fleurissoire, winked his eye; then, twenty paces further on, stopped again in front of a little low door and rang the bell. The barber’s window was not particularly attractive but Father Cave doubtless had his reasons for pointing it out; moreover, Fleurissoire would have had to go a long way back before finding another, which would no doubt have been equally uninviting. The door was left open on account of the excessive heat; a wide-meshed curtain kept the flies out and let the air in; one had to raise it to go in; he entered.