_Rome,
November._
The top o’ the marnin’ to ye, Polly Darlin’! It would be very
inappropriate, wouldn’t it, if this came to you by evening delivery?
At any rate it is the top o’ the marnin’ here in Rome, and I am
pretending you are right next to me, my kitten-sphinx, and I’m
greeting you with a morning kiss in token of our peace, or is it an
armistice? Your letter makes me happy and yet your remarks about the
Prince trouble me. There is, however, one clear way out of your
difficulties, and that is to make our engagement known at once to
everyone. I do not want to urge the point too strongly, but doesn’t it
seem that circumstances have combined to make an announcement
desirable?
Putting aside all consideration of what people may say or think, I
feel it would be franker, more dignified, more true to yourself, to
others, to me, that the relation between us should be told. All kinds
of complications will arise if we keep it secret. Do not act hastily
on receiving this. Think it over carefully. Oh, I love you, Polly,
with my whole soul! But I can’t come home at once; my friend Charlton
is now seriously ill and Embassy matters are tied up. Under the
circumstances, I am glad you left Paris when you did. Did Boris see
you off?
How bustling and busy your getting away from the hotel must have
been,--the drive to the station through the gay streets, the
excitement at the train, the helter-skelter of passengers and porters
with their bags, baggage, boxes, baskets, and rugs. Then the steamer,
the good-byes, the buzz of the engine, the splash of water and a
realization at last that you were homeward bound!
It will seem odd to hear about Rome now that you are in America, about
the streets yellow with flooding sunshine, and crowded with carts from
the Campagna, and cabbies on their rattletrap carriages cracking their
whips and crying “ah!” in deep guttural tones at their horses,
instead of saying “Whoa!” or “Gee up!” in the proper American way.
Early one afternoon Charlton and I started out in an ancient cab and a
decrepit horse to go to the Piazza San Pietro, or perish in the
attempt. I had the enthusiasm and he the perseverance. Indeed we took
turns in exhibiting these qualities, for there came a time when he was
enthusiastic and I persevered. There were moments when the old horse
went so slowly that we thought he would never get there, but the
driver used the whip encouragingly. Finally we reached St. Peter’s,
surrounded by its huge colonnade, with its splashing fountains, went
up the broad terrace steps and beneath the great _loggia_, and into
the overwhelming interior with its vast distance, out of all
proportion to anything else in the world.
Inside the people were kissing the toe of St. Peter, while crowds
walked about and men were hammering away until the whole place
resounded with the work of putting up tribunes for some ceremonies.
But a great shaft of yellow sunshine came streaming down from the
dome, making the gloom golden, and above the hum of voices could be
heard the Pope’s angel chanting beautifully.
When I came out and looked over toward your palace and saw the tops of
the plants of the garden on the terrace, I could not resist going in
to see Peppi. You know he has lately taken your old apartment, in
memory of your Aunt, I suppose. Up the stairway we climbed till we
came to the door and rang. There was a great rattling of chains and
unbolting of locks; the door finally opened and we were told he was
home. He asked us to take pot luck with him, so we went up first on
the terrace and examined the roses, some poor weedy sunflowers, and a
few little pansies that looked pleadingly up at me while I stood in
the corner of the terrace where you stood that last night, Polly.
The sky was glorious; the sun had gone down and St. Peter’s and the
huge pile of the Vatican, with only here and there a twinkling light
in the darkness of the massive building, loomed up in silhouette
against a heaven of delicate brown which shaded into pale green. Above
us in a pure vault of blue, the crescent moon floated, all silver,
while in the opposite horizon, over the Alban Mountains and the
Appenines, great banks of clouds rolled up, black and threatening
beneath, reflecting the afterglow above, while forked lightning played
ceaselessly through them. Later the façade of the cathedral became
outlined in lights, although the dome was left in blackness, and all
the Borgo was hung with paper lanterns and was very gay and bright.
But I felt lonely without you.
D. V., it will not be long before I reach home! Already I can see the
beautiful bay, the boats passing and repassing, and the arrival of
Quarantine and Custom officials. The great city--greater New
York--faintly appearing through the morning mist, and the huge
buildings towering above the fog, like a city in the clouds. We pass
the statue, the busy ferry boats hurry beneath our great bow and--ah,
Polly, I must confess my eyes are tearful with the excitement and
happiness of the thought. My great anxiety to be with you should carry
the ship more quickly, though alas, in this practical age, it depends
more on the quality of the coal than on the burning anxiety of a
lover.
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