After
some thought I brought a cigar out of my pocket, which he smoked with
extreme pleasure. The oxen meanwhile had been urged up the slow hill,
and it was in this way that we reached the famous town of
Acquapendente. But why it should be called famous is more than I can
understand. It may be that in one of those narrow streets there is a
picture or a church, or one of those things which so attract
unbelieving men. To the pilgrim it is simply a group of houses. Into
one of these I went, and, upon my soul, I have nothing to say of it
except that they furnished me with food.
I do not pretend to have counted the flies, though they were numerous;
and, even had I done so, what interest would the number have, save to
the statisticians? Now as these are patient men and foolish, I
heartily recommend them to go and count the flies for themselves.
Leaving this meal then, this town and this people (which were all of a
humdrum sort), and going out by the gate, the left side of which is
made up of a church, I went a little way on the short road to San
Lorenzo, but I had no intention of going far, for (as you know by this
time) the night had become my day and the day my night.
