“Nothing more. I don’t know if Cicero said that, or Castelar, or Sir Robert Peel.”
Preciozi burst into merry laughter.
“What statue is that?” asked Cæsar, indicating the one in the middle of the square.
“That is Marcus Aurelius.”
“An Emperor?”
“Yes, an Emperor and a philosopher.”
“And why have they made him riding such a little, potbellied horse?”
“I don’t know, man.”
“He looks like a man taking a horse to water at a trough. Why does he ride bare-back? Hadn’t they invented stirrups at that period?”
Preciozi was a bit perplexed; before making a reply he gazed at the statue, and then said, confusedly: