_Rome,
March._
Your letters, dear, from the farm bring the fine country air with
them. I can see the still cold moonlight on the pure white snow and
hear the ringing of the sleigh bells, I can see the old house, the
fire crackling up the chimney, and the cozy room with the old prints,
the warmth and geniality. Thank you, dear, for the picture.
But your mood changed, didn’t it, darling, when you got back from your
ride? I am sure your Aunt dropped some little bit of gossip, possibly
something the Prince or Peppi may have written, though I feared he had
quite forgotten her. He’s too deeply in love with Mona Lisa now to act
like a sensible person, and whatever he says is colored by his insane
jealousy of every other man in Rome who even looks on his divinity.
But I’m coming home, Polly. I’ll do anything to get away. I know you
want to live in America and so do I.
Last night was the ball at the Austrian Embassy to which came the King
and Queen. In a word--and a slang word at that--it wasn’t a patch on
our Embassy Ball. Their palace, for one thing, doesn’t compare with
ours, and then, notwithstanding all the etiquette and fuss of the
Austrians, all their punctiliousness, it didn’t go off so smoothly.
The fact is, it wasn’t so well done, and out of this I privately found
much gratification. The American function had been a great success,
while the reception of last night was rather a commonplace affair.
I stood around and watched the Austrian secretaries work--five or six
of them to do what I alone had done, and I delighted in seeing them
run about, and look sheepish or important, according to their natures,
as they did the more or less foolish things the occasion demanded. As
soon as their Majesties had gone, I departed, so got to bed at a
comparatively early hour. They had a cotillion afterwards which we had
the good sense not to undertake. Rather a funny thing was the fact
that a class of Americans who hadn’t been asked to our ball were
invited to this one!
I took a ride on my chestnut horse this afternoon--yes, the one Peppi
dubbed Mona Lisa. But don’t you worry about the real lady
Lisa--she--well, she just helps to pass the time away. Today as we
started out, great banks of clouds toward the East had gathered,
casting shadows on the hills, and these advanced till a glorious
double rainbow arched across the Campagna. It was all so beautiful
that we innocently rode right into the storm and were drenched in a
pelting rain.
The Embassy is humming with people calling, making inquiries, asking
for passports, demanding everything from a room in the best hotel to a
good store where an American can buy a pair of suspenders, and a
thousand and one other requests. Then the Ambassador is getting ready
to go away, so all is topsy-turvey. As soon as he goes, I shall begin
to pack my boxes--a few books and pictures; and then some evening when
the new secretary gets here, I shall quietly go to the station, take
the train, and ride rattling across the uncanny old Campagna for the
last time, and say goodbye to old Rome, goodbye! I follow your pesky
Prince!
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