"That is easy enough," he replied. "I will write it for you," and
scribbled it off then and there.
He dedicated a piece to me called "Forever," which I sing on every
occasion.
I have a great friend in Madame Helbig, the wife of Herr Helbig, the
German archæologist in Rome. She is born a Russian princess, and is
certainly one of the best amateur musicians, if not the best, I have
ever met. She is of immense proportions, being very tall and very
stout. One might easily mistake her for a priest, as she is always
dressed in a long black garment which is a sort of water-proof; and as
her hair is short and she never wears a hat, you may well imagine that
she is very well known in Rome. When she hails a cab to take her up the
very steep Caffarelli Hill, where they live, the cabbies, who are
humorists in their way, look at her, then at their poor, half-fed
horses and the weak springs of their dilapidated _bottes_ (cabs), shake
their heads, and, holding up two dirty fingers, say, "_In due volte_"
(which means "in two trips"). Mr. Ross, the Norwegian painter, whose
English is not quite up to the mark, said she was the "hell-biggest"
woman he ever saw; and when she undertook a journey to Russia, said,
"Dear me, how can she ever travel with that corpse of hers?"