It was the sweetest morning of the Roman winter. The sun shone with a
gentle radiance, and the motionless air was fragrant with the odour of
herbs and flowers. Outside the gate which leads to the old Appian Way
grooms were waiting with horses, blanketed and hooded, and huntsmen in
red coats, white breeches, pink waistcoats, and black boots, were
walking their mounts to the place appointed for the meet. In a line of
carriages were many ladies, some in riding-habits, and on foot there was
a string of beggars, most of them deformed, with here and there, at
little villages, a group of rosy children watching the procession as it
passed.
The American and English Ambassadors were riding side by side behind a
magnificent carriage with coachman and tiger in livery of scarlet and
gold.
"Who would think, to look on a scene like this, that the city is
seething with dissatisfaction?" said the Englishman.
"Rome?" said the American. "Its aristocratic indifference will not allow
it to believe that here, as everywhere else in the world, great and
fatal changes are going on all the time. These lands, for example--to
whom do they belong? Nominally to the old Roman nobility, but really to
the merchants of the Campagna--a company of middlemen who grew rich by
leasing them from the princes and subletting them to the poor."
"And the nobles themselves--how are they faring?"
"Badly! Already they are of no political significance, and the State
knows them not."
"They don't appear to go into the army or navy--what do they go into?"
"Love!"
"And meantime the Italian people?"
"Meantime the great Italian people, like the great English people, the
great German people, and the people of every country where the
privileged classes still exist, are rising like a mighty wave to sweep
all this sea-wrack high and dry on to the rocks."
"And this wave of the people," said the Englishman, inclining his head
toward the carriage in front, "is represented by men like friend Rossi?"
"Would be, if he could keep himself straight," said the American.
"And where is the Tarpeian rock of friend Rossi's politics?"
The American slapped his glossy boot with his whip, lowered his voice,
and said, "There!"
"Donna Roma?"
"A fortnight ago you heard his speech on the liveries of scarlet and
gold, and look! He's under them himself already."
"You think there is no other inference?"
The American shook his head. "Always the way with these leaders of
revolution. It's Samson's strength with Samson's weakness in every
mother's son of them."
"Good-morning, General Potter!" said a cheerful voice from the carriage
in front.
It was Roma herself. She sat by the side of the little Princess, with
David Rossi on the seat before them. Her eyes were bright, there was a
glow in her cheeks, and she looked lovelier than ever in her
close-fitting riding-habit.
At the meeting-place there was a vast crowd of on-lookers, chiefly
foreigners, in cabs and carriages and four-in-hand coaches from the
principal hotels. The Master of the Hunt was ready, with his impatient
hounds at his feet, and around him was a brilliant scene. Officers in
blue, huntsmen in red, ladies in black, jockeys in jackets, a sea of
feathers and flowers and sunshades, with the neighing of the horses and
yapping of the dogs, the vast undulating country, the smell of earth and
herbs, and the morning sunlight over all.
Don Camillo was waiting with horses for his party, and they mounted
immediately. The horse for Roma was a quiet bay mare with limpid eyes.
General Potter helped her to the saddle, and she went cantering through
the long lush grass.
"What has your charming young charge been doing with herself, Princess?"
said the American. "She was always beautiful, but to-day she's lovely."
"She's like Undine after she had found her soul," said the Englishman.
The little Princess laughed. "Love and a cough cannot be hidden,
gentlemen," she whispered, with a look toward David Rossi.
"You don't mean...."
"Hush!"
Meantime Rossi, in ordinary walking dress, was approaching the horse he
was intended to ride. It was a high strong-limbed sorrel with wild eyes
and panting nostrils. The English groom who held it was regarding the
rider with a doubtful expression, and a group of booted and spurred
huntsmen were closing around.
To everybody's surprise, the deputy gathered up the reins and leaped
lightly to the saddle, and at the next moment he was riding at Roma's
side. Then the horn was sounded, the pack broke into music, the horses
beat their hoofs on the turf and the hunt began.
There was a wall to jump first, and everybody cleared it easily until it
came to David Rossi's turn, when the sorrel refused to jump. He patted
the horse's neck and tried it again, but it shied and went off with its
head between its legs. A third time he brought the sorrel up to the
wall, and a third time it swerved aside.
The hunters had waited to watch the result, and as the horse came up for
a fourth trial, with its wild eyes flashing, its nostrils quivering, and
its forelock tossed over one ear, it was seen that the bridle had broken
and Rossi was riding with one rein.
"He'll be lucky if he isn't hurt," said some one.
"Why doesn't he give it the whip over its quarters?" said another.
But David Rossi only patted his horse until it came to the spot where it
had shied before. Then he reached over its neck on the side of the
broken rein, and with open hand struck it sharply across the nose. The
horse reared, snorted, and jumped, and at the next moment it was
standing quietly on the other side of the wall.
Roma, on her bay mare, was ashen pale, and the American Ambassador
turned to her and said:
"Never knew but one man to do a thing like that, Donna Roma."
Roma swallowed something in her throat and said: "Who was it, General
Potter?"
"The present Pope when he was a Noble Guard."
"He can ride, by Jove!" said Don Camillo.
"That sort of stuff has to be in a man's blood. Born in him--must be!"
said the Englishman.
And then David Rossi came up with a new bridle to his sorrel, and Sir
Evelyn added: "You handle a horse like a man who began early, Mr.
Rossi."
"Yes," said David Rossi; "I was a stable-boy two years in New York, your
Excellency."
At that moment the huntsman who was leading with two English terriers
gave the signal that the fox was started, whereupon the hounds yelped,
the whips whistled, and the horses broke into a canter.
Two hours afterwards the poor little creature that had been the origin
of the holiday was tracked to earth and killed. Its head and tail were
cut off, and the rest of its body was thrown to the dogs. After that
flasks were taken out, healths were drunk, cheers were given, and then
the hunt broke up, and the hunters began to return at an easy trot.
Roma and David Rossi were riding side by side, and the Princess was a
pace or two behind them.
"Roma!" cried the Princess, "what a stretch for a gallop!"
"Isn't it?" said Roma, and in a moment she was off.
"I believe her mare has mastered her," said the Princess, and at the
next instant David Rossi was gone too.
"Peace be with them! They're a lovely pair!" said the Princess,
laughing. "But we might as well go home. They are like Undine, and will
return no more."
X
Meantime, with the light breeze in her ears, and the beat of her horse's
hoofs echoing among the aqueducts and tombs, Roma galloped over the
broad Campagna. After a moment she heard some one coming after her, and
for joy of being pursued she whipped up and galloped faster. Without
looking back she knew who was behind, and as her horse flew over the
hillocks her heart leaped and sang. When the strong-limbed sorrel came
up with the quiet bay mare, they were nearly two miles from their
starting-place, and far out of the track of their fellow-hunters. Both
were aglow from head to foot, and as they drew rein they looked at each
other and laughed.
"Might as well go on now, and come out by the English cemetery," said
Roma.
"Good!" said David Rossi.
"But it's half-past two," said Roma, looking at her little watch, "and
I'm as hungry as a hunter."
"Naturally," said David Rossi, and they laughed again. There was an
osteria somewhere in that neighbourhood. He had known it when he was a
boy. They would dine on yellow beans and macaroni.
Presently they saw a house smoking under a scraggy clump of eucalyptus.
It was the osteria, half farmstead and half inn. A timid lad took their
horses, an evil-looking old man bowed them into the porch, and an
elderly woman, with a frightened expression and a face wrinkled like the
bark of a cedar, brought them a bill of fare.
They laughed at everything--at the unfamiliar menu, because it was
soiled enough to have served for a year; at the food, because it was so
simple; and at the prices, because they were so cheap.
Roma looked over David Rossi's shoulder as he read out the bill of fare,
and they ordered the dinner together.
"Macaroni--threepence! Right! Trout--fourpence! Shall we have
fourpennyworth of trout? Good! Lamb--sixpence! We'll take two lambs--I
mean two sixpenny-worths," and then more laughter.
While the dinner was cooking they went out to walk among the eucalyptus,
and came upon a beautiful dell surrounded by trees and carpeted with
wild flowers.
"Carnival!" cried Roma. "Now if there was anybody here to throw a flower
at one!"
He picked up a handful of violets and tossed them over her head.
"When I was a boy this was where men fought duels," said David Rossi.
"The brutes! What a lovely spot! Must be the place where Pharaoh's
daughter found Moses in the bulrushes!"
"Or where Adam found Eve in the garden of Eden?"
They looked at each other and smiled.
"What a surprise that must have been to him," said Roma. "Whatever did
he think she was, I wonder?"
"An angel who had come down in the moonlight and forgotten to go up in
the morning!"
"Nonsense! He would know in a moment she was a woman."
"Think of it! She was the only woman in the world for him!"
"And fancy! He was the only man!"
The dinner was one long delight. Even its drawbacks were no
disadvantage. The food was bad, and it was badly cooked and badly
served, but nothing mattered.
"Only one fork for all these dishes?" asked David Rossi.
"That's the best of it," said Roma. "You only get one dirty one."