_Rome,
January._
Fi, fo, fum! I should indeed like to be at “hum.” The days are
becoming longer, and so I find my only happiness in thinking that
before they begin to shorten again, I shall have come to you, my
angel, to love and to hold and to cherish you forever. But meantime my
letters are blue because I am blue, and I am a deep cerulean because
you are so far off. Why, being away from you is enough to make me turn
into a box of indigo. Blue indeed--I am Black!
To console myself I read and re-read your letters and daydream about
the future. Yes, I shall come and as soon as the State Department
will let me. It won’t be long now--not long, though I cannot as yet
set a date. I think May would be the prettiest time of the whole year
to be married in, and then go (as you suggest) to Black Horse Farm,
though nobody must know; afterwards we’ll cruise slowly South down
through the Spanish Main, across the Equator, skirting the coast of
Guiana, past Brazil. We’ll round the Horn together and see if we can
find the Enchanted Isles and other heavenly ineffable places. What do
you think of this plan, my darling?
Meantime, I have only your picture, as you have mine. In case you may
like to see the arrangement of my habitation, I have sketched it for
you. The little cross is where my altar is placed, the point to which
your devotee turns, not twice or thrice or four times a day, as do the
Mahometans toward their place of worship, but constantly in prayer and
thanksgiving. Your photograph is my Mecca and you are my little Pagan
goddess, part nymph, part naughty elfin sprite, and part some winged
flitting creature out of a fairy mythology not as yet discovered. But
here in this room you are my Lares and Penates--you are my Love.
Last night I said goodbye to your picture, and went off to the Court
Ball, where I saw many of our fair compatriots. It was a fine sight.
It makes me think of what Mr. Dooley said, “at coort rayciptions th’
Ambassadure iv England wore th’ gorgeous unyform iv his station, th’
Ambassadure iv France jingled with medals, th’ American Ambassadure
looked like a detictive at a fancy ball.” Three sides of the great
room were lined with rows of people who all bowed and curtseyed as the
King and Queen entered, while the orchestra played the Royal March.
The Queen danced in the Quadrille of Honor, and after that the music
struck up the first waltz and the moment arrived when, it may interest
you to know, I opened the Ball!
The Grand Master of Ceremonies asked me to dance with his daughter,
and so, bang! out in front of all the people I walked on my trembling
legs, bowed to her Majesty, and went across and asked the signorina.
Round and round the room we spun while all gazed upon us; at last some
others took the floor and the ball was on! It was about the most
trying thing that I have ever done; in fact we almost danced down the
King and the wife of the Prime Minister, and a few other dignitaries
who stood in our parabolic way. After things got started, I tried to
dance with all the American girls present but it was warm work. The
Queen and Mona Lisa, who has come back to Rome, to Peppi’s intense
joy--but don’t tell your aunt--were probably the two most remarkable
women there, both beautifully dressed, and they looked at each other,
as ladies will. My last Court Ball!
But my troubles are not over, for our Ambassador and his wife are to
receive the King and Queen; so I have that to arrange. The legend is
that the Queen has expressed a desire to go to the United States
Embassy. It is going to make a lot of work, of course, for Their
Majesties very seldom do this thing, though Embassies are, as you
know, among the few places which may entertain them. It should be a
fine function--the palace of our Ambassador is so magnificent--and I
hope it may be well done, though the preparation must needs be
tremendous. Only certain people can be asked, and great state
maintained. Oh, my darling, if you were only here to enjoy it!
A thousand invisible fibres are drawing me towards you ever and
always. But Polly, I am beginning to be uneasy. I had hoped surely to
go when the Ambassador left Rome, but now he says very emphatically
that it is my duty to stay here until a new secretary comes, and that
is the reason I have not heard from the State Department. I am, oh, so
disappointed. Trust me! Believe in me! Don’t let this separation, this
uncertainty bring about any misunderstanding between us, no matter how
slight. I have fought off a feeling of foreboding all day. Love me,
dearest, always.
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