_Baden Baden,
July._
“I love you just as much as ever, dearest A. D.--Do you love me? Will
you be mine?” Checkers is dictating, so don’t be alarmed!
What a terrible fire that was! I am sure you were the hero of the
occasion. Thank heaven you were not injured!
About two weeks ago this time, you and I at the Lido were riding madly
on merry-go-rounds, seeing trained fleas, and throwing balls. Tonight
my twin and I are going to have a game. You know the old
saying--“Lucky at cards, unlucky at love.” I wonder if I shall win or
lose.
We got so desperate we asked two dreadful Americans to come up for
poker. Checkers is having even a more stupid time than I am, but he is
becoming very chummy with the proprietor, and was actually roped into
going to church, where he passed the plate with an air almost as fine
as yours!
I know he wants to send messages to you, for he often says, “Well, I
really am going to write to A. D. today.” Whether these letters ever
get off or not I do not know.
The other evening, however, was quite amusing, as the beer garden was
full of people, and there was a handsome Italian whom I thought I was
falling in love with; he gave a fascinating bicycle performance. I
bought his photograph, but after talking with him, I decided I did not
like him at all, and threw the picture away.
Signor Peppi is with us, as you know, and Aunt is happy. If they
aren’t engaged now, I think they will be soon. We all went to ride on
horseback today and came home nearly dead, though P. was plucky and
stuck it out. It is so nice to get on a horse again, you can’t imagine
how I enjoy it. I think it is next best to a gondola and a sand-bank.
I am sending you, by the way, a little silver gondola with my love.
P. S. Is there any news from Don Carlo in South Africa? Did the
gardener’s daughter follow him? And my little Spaniard, Gonzaga, how
is he?
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