_Rome,
February._
Pittsburgo came to call and stayed forever and ever AMEN. He talked
most of the time about a beautiful Italian singer. Then A. D. and the
Prince arrived and we had tea, and it made me feel like old times when
I used to sit in the parlor at home and have beaux, knowing all the
time that Auntie was behind the screen. Those were good old times, but
they seem a long way off now. Finally Pittsburgo and A. D. went, and
Aunt invited the Prince to stay to dinner. Afterwards Aunt was so
tired she went off for a snooze. But if it had been the temperamental
Peppi that stayed, I don’t think she would have been so sleepy; or
maybe she wished to leave us alone.
Later we went to a charity bazaar at Baronessa Blanc’s, where there
were flunkies in beautiful liveries at every landing, and flowers and
tapestries. A. D. appeared upon the scene. He and I are getting to be
quite good friends, though I know he is terribly devoted to the pretty
divorcée with a Mona Lisa smile and a come-hither eye. Probably she
is the person he is engaged to, if he really is engaged. He has me
guessing.
The Prince is very cross with me. He makes me laugh, and tells me I
would flirt even with a pair of tongs. The more I see him, the more
mysterious he grows. He talks incessantly, and is as strange as the
Oriental cane he carries. He is not officially attached to the Russian
Embassy, at least, so A. D. says, and his best friends seem to be the
Turks. When he is not speaking broken English he uses French, but
that’s the diplomatic language everywhere.
The other night I started out with Louisa to a dinner at the French
Embassy. She’s the prettiest, dark-eyed, olive-skinned contadina you
ever saw, and while we were driving she chattered to me in the most
knowing way about the King and Queen and court, of their family life,
even telling me where the King has his washing done. She doesn’t know
why, but--strange to say--it is all sent to Milan! It appears she
knows intimately the Queen’s hairdresser. Louisa is trying to learn
English and delights in showing off. Much to our amusement, she
refers to Aunt as “he,” to Checkers as “she,” and to me as “it.”
Don Carlo, who has just recovered from the mumps, was at the affair. I
danced afterwards with the extravagant Pittsburgo. A. D. was terribly
devoted to Madame Mona Lisa, as we call her, and I don’t care if he
was! I walked through the great bare galleries and tapestried rooms
with the Princess Pallavicini and the Turkish Ambassador, who seemed
to know about my flirtation with the Cossack Prince. Somehow I felt
glad to escape and go on with Aunt to Mme. Leghait’s “impair”
reception where the very gayest of Roman society gathers on evenings
of odd dates.
* * * * *
_February 14._
St. Valentine’s Day! Just as I waked up, Louisa brought into my room a
large basket of the loveliest flowers. Never have I received such
beautiful ones or so many. With them was a note, “From your
Valentine,” but Louisa recognized A. D.’s man, whom he calls his
faithful Gilet, bringing them. It was very kind of him, of course,
but I wish he would let me alone, and send his old flowers to the
grass widow.
This afternoon Aunt and I hunted all over town for philopena presents.
I had lost one to A. D. and she to Peppi. When we got home, in came
Captain Carlo with his mother, who was oh, so beautiful. She went
soon, long before I had enough of gazing at her, but he stayed till A.
D. dropped in to rescue us.
After dinner Aunt and I put on black dominoes and masks, Checkers,
Peppi, and A. D. made themselves perfectly killing in Pierrot costumes
of black and white with white caps and fat-cheeked masks, and off went
the five of us to the Veglione. We had a box in the theatre, but it
was much more fun to go on the floor and dance. Whom should we see but
Pittsburgo and with him his Italian singer. He hadn’t the remotest
idea who we were. So I said all kinds of things to him, and got him
all mixed up and it was the best fun! How we did laugh when I pushed
him just a little and he tripped and rolled head first into the
fountain. I simply loved the whole affair.
Once in a while Checkers and I go for a drive in his little
two-wheeled cart with the absurd pony that looks like a broncho who
has missed his growth, and when we get way out on the Campagna we
burst into song:
“Pull off your walking coat,
Comb back your hair,
Cut loose your corset string,
Take in some air;
Put on your bonnet, love,
Don’t act a fool;
See that your harness fits
Same as a mule.”
We almost feel we are at Black Horse Farm again at home. Between
parties Sybil, Checkers, and I go sight-seeing, for Aunt says we must
learn something besides deviltry.
“So you think I’m enjoying myself too much over here, Auntie,” my twin
remarks. “Well, when I get home I’ll show you I’m not afraid of
work,--I’ll lie right down beside it, see if I don’t. But while I’m
here, I’m out for a good time.”
I’ve seen the Prince many times lately; he is most devoted. I love his
letters, he interests but he frightens me a little. My feelings are
so mixed I can’t write them down. When not with me, he spends much
time with Peppi and Madame Mona Lisa. I often see them prowling about
among the old paintings in the galleries.
* * * * *