moured expression of most of the faces, and all the other characteristics of a foreign mob, made the most amusing impression upon me. I fancied that I could see before me the chorus of birds, which, as Treufreund, I had often laughed at in the Ettersburg theatre. This put me in excellent humour; and, when the podestà came up with his actuary, I greeted him in an open manner, and, when he asked me why I was drawing the fortification, modestly replied that I did not look upon that wall as a fortification. I called the attention of him and the people to the decay of the towers and walls, and to the generally defenceless position of the place, assuring him that I thought I only saw and drew a ruin.
I was answered thus: "If it was only a ruin, what could there be remarkable about it?" As I wished to gain time and favour, I replied, very circumstantially, that they must be well aware how many travellers visited Italy for the sake of the ruins only; that Rome, the metropolis of the world, having suffered the depredations of barbarians, was now full of ruins, which had been drawn hundreds of times; and that all the works of antiquity were not in such good preservation as the amphitheatre at Verona, which I hoped soon to see.
The podestà, who stood before me, though in a less elevated position, was a tall man, not exactly thin, of about thirty years of age. The flat features of his spiritless face perfectly accorded with the slow, constrained manner in which he put his questions. Even the actuary, a sharp little fellow, seemed as if he did not know what to make of a case so new and so unexpected. I said a great deal of the same sort. The people seemed to take my remarks good-naturedly; and, on turning toward some kindly female faces, I thought I could read assent and approval.
When, however, I mentioned the amphitheatre at
