_Rome,
March._
My Easter greetings to you, dear Polly; I hope they may come in time.
I have been desolate since you left Rome, and am looking forward
eagerly to seeing you next Sunday at Sorrento. As I passed your
Palazzo, I glanced up and saw the flowers nodding their heads above
the walls of your terrace, and I met the Prince wandering about
outside, appearing decidedly forlorn, poor devil. I fear you treated
him badly. I felt more than a little forlorn myself thinking of you so
many miles away.
I went up with a picnic party among the Alban mountains today, first
to Frascati, then, after déjeuner, we climbed to the ancient city of
Tusculum, and the view was glorious. Way, way off lay Rome and the
great dome of St. Peter’s, and near it, I knew, was your Palazzo.
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