During the dinner Maffei called my attention to the menu "Cotelettes a la Waddington," and asked me if W. was as much of an authority in cooks as he was in coins. I disclaimed any such knowledge for him, and was rather curious to see what the "cotelettes" would prove to be. They were a sort of chaud-froid, with a thick, white envelope, on which was a large W. in truffles. The whole table was rather amused, and Madame de Noailles gave us the explanation. Her chef had been some time with us at the Quai d'Orsay, and when he heard W. was coming to dinner was much excited, and anxious to do honour to his old master--so he consulted Madame de Noailles, and that was the result. I will keep the menu for you.

After dinner we adjourned to the beautiful Carracci gallery, and there I was presented to various ladies--Madame d'Uxkull (ci-devant Madame Gheka), very handsome; and Madame Visconti Venosta, an attractive looking woman with charming manners. I had quite a talk with Lady Paget, who looks always very distinguished with her beautiful figure. She told me Mrs. Edwards's baby had arrived--a little girl--to be called "Gay"

after her daughter.[18] I hope she will grow up as pretty as her mother.

I talked some time to Madame Cairoli who was very amiable and expansive, called me always "Madame la Comtesse"; and offered me anything I wanted from cards for the Chamber to a presentation to the Queen.

[18] Now the Hon. Sylvia Edwards, Maid of Honour to Queen Alexandra.

There was quite a reception in the evening--not many of the Roman ladies. Marc Antonio Colonna came up--recalled himself, and introduced me to his wife--very pretty, with splendid jewels. She is the daughter of the Duke of Sant-Arpino, a very handsome man. Her mother, the d.u.c.h.ess, an English woman, also very handsome, so she comes fairly by her beauty. I walked about the rooms with Wimpffen, and he showed me all the notabilities in the parliamentary world. Lady Paget asked us to go to her on Sunday afternoon, and I promised Nevin we would go to his church, but we didn't.

W. has just received an intimation that King Humbert will receive him to-morrow at one o'clock, and I have told Madame Hubert to get out his Italian decorations, as he always forgets to put them on, and it seems in all courts they attach much importance to these matters. We are starting now for a drive; first to the Villa Wolkonsky--I want to show it to W., and we shall probably go in late to the British Emba.s.sy.

Monday, March 11, 1880.

The King gave W. his audience to-day at one. He went off most properly attired, _with_ his Italian ribbon. He generally forgets to put on his orders, and was decidedly put out one day in Paris when he arrived at a royal reception _without_ the decoration the sovereign had just sent him. The explanation was difficult--he could hardly tell the King he had forgotten. W. got back again a little after two, and said the interview was pleasant enough--the King very gracious, and he supposed, for him, talkative; though there were long pauses in the conversation--he leaning on his sword, with his hands crossed on the hilt as his father always did--spoke about the Queen, said she was in Rome, and he believed Madame Waddington had known her when she was Princess de Piedmont. I never was presented to her--saw her only from a distance at some of the b.a.l.l.s. I remember her quite well at a ball at the Teanos in a blue dress, with her beautiful pearls. I hope she will receive us. He talked less politics than the Pope; said France and Italy, the two great Latin races, ought to be friends, and deplored the extreme liberty of the press; knew also that W. was in Rome for the first time, and hoped he would have fine weather. He did not ask him anything about his interview with the Pope. W. said the reception was quite simple--nothing like the state and show of the Vatican. There was a big porter at the door of the palace, two or three servants on the stairs, and two officers, aides-de-camp, in the small salon opening into the King's cabinet.

Soon after he came in we had visits--Hooker, Monsignor English, a French priest, head of St. Louis des Francais, and Del Monte, whom I hadn't yet seen. He was so nice and friendly--doesn't look really much older, though he says he feels so. I told him it seemed unnatural not to have a piano. He would have brought his cello, and we could have plunged into music and quite forgotten how many years had pa.s.sed since we first played and sang the "Stella Confidente."

[Ill.u.s.tration: King Humbert of Italy.]

After they had all gone we started out to the "Tre Fontane," taking Gert with us to see the establishment of the French Trappists who are trying to "a.s.sainir" the Campagna by planting eucalyptus trees. It is an interesting experiment, but rather a dangerous one, as several of the fathers have died. The summer here, with that deadly mist that rises from the Campagna, must be fatal, and the two monks we saw looked yellow and shrivelled with fever. However, they will persevere, with that extraordinary tenacity and devotion of the Catholic priests when they undertake anything of that kind. I carried off a bottle of Elixir of Eucalpytus, for I am sorry to say these last bright days have given me an unpleasant souvenir in the shape of a cold chill every now and then between the shoulders, and evidently there is still truth in the Roman proverb "Cuore di donna, onde di mare, sole di Marzo, non ti fidare."

(Don't trust a woman's heart, the waves of the sea, nor the March sun.)

We got home about half-past six, had tea and more visits--Calabrini, Vitelleschi, and Princess Pallavicini, who was most animated, and talked politics hard with W. We dined at home and had a little talk, just as we were finishing dinner, with Menabrea, who was dining at a table next ours. They say he will go to the Paris Emba.s.sy in Cialdini's place. W.

wouldn't go out again, so I went alone to Gert's, who had a few people--Mrs. Van Rensselaer, clever and original; Countess Calice, an American; her husband, a cousin of the Malatestas; Vera; young Malatesta, a son of Francesco; a Russian secretary, and one or two others. It was rather a pleasant evening. They had tea in the dining-room--everybody walked about, and the men smoked.

Tuesday, March 13, 1880.

Yesterday morning W. and I had a good outing, wandering about the Capitol. First we walked around Marcus Aurelius, then up the old worn stone steps to the Ara Coeli. I told W. how we used to go there always on Christmas Eve to see the Creche and the Bambino. It was very well done, and most effective. The stable, beasts, shepherds, and kings (one quite black with a fine crown). There were always children singing the "storia di Gesu" and babies in arms stretching out their hands to the lights. Yesterday the church was quite empty, as there is not much to attract the ordinary tourist. We made our way slowly, W. stopping every moment before an inscription, or a sarcophagus, or a fresco, to the room of the "Dying Gladiator," which he found magnificent--was not at all disappointed; afterward the faun--and then sauntered though all the rooms. I had forgotten the two skeletons in one of the sarcophagi--the woman's with rings on her fingers, most ghastly.

After lunch Countess Wimpffen came in to know if I would drive with her to the Villa Borghese, and do two teas afterwards--Madame Cairoli and Madame Westenberg (wife of the Dutch Minister, an American and a great friend of Gert's); but I couldn't arrange it, as W. wanted to come with me to the Affaires Etrangeres--so we agreed to go another day. I always liked both Wimpffens so much when they were in Paris that it is a great pleasure to find them here. Wimpffen likes to get hold of W. and talk about France and French politics.

Our dinner at Mrs. Bruce's was very gay. I told her I didn't find her salon much prettier than in our days when we lived on the first floor of Perret's house (she on the second), and she always said we made Perret send up to her all the ugly furniture we wouldn't have. What we kept was so bad, that I think the "rebut" must have been something awful. We had the Minghettis, Vitelleschis, Wurts, Wilbrahams, Schuylers, and one or two stray Englishmen. Vitelleschi took me in, and I had Minghetti on the other side, so I was very well placed. It is killing to hear them talk politics--discussing all the most burning questions with a sort of easy persiflage and "esprit de conciliation" that would astound our "grands politiques" at home. Minghetti said the most absolutely liberal man he had ever known was Pio Nono--but what could he do, once he was Pope.

It was really a charming dinner--Mrs. Bruce is an ideal hostess. She likes to hear the clever men discuss, and always manages to put them on their mettle. We all came away about the same time, and W. and I went on to the opera "Tor di None." Bibra had invited us to come to his box. The house was much less "elegante" than the Paris house--hardly any one in a low dress, no tiaras, and few jewels. The Royal box empty. Princess Bandini was in the next box with Del Monte and Trochi. The Minghettis opposite with the Wimpffens. The "salle" was badly lighted--one could hardly make the people out.

W. had rather a shock--we had scarcely got in--(Bibra not yet come) when the door opened and in came Maurizio Cavaletti--enchanted to see me--seizing both my hands--"Maria mia adorata--cara regazza, etc.,"

utterly oblivious of "cara Maria's" husband, who stood stiff and cold (an icicle) in the background, with Anglo-Saxon written all over him; waiting for the exuberant demonstration to finish, and a presentation to be made. As soon as I could I presented Monsieur le Marquis in proper form, and explained that we were very old friends, had not met for years, etc., but W. hardly thawed all the evening.

When he went out of the box to pay a visit to our neighbours I remonstrated vigorously with Maurizio, but he was so unfeignedly astonished at being taken to task for greeting a very old friend warmly, that I didn't make much impression. The ballet was pretty, and of course there was an influx of young men as soon as it began--a handsome, rather stout "ballerina" being evidently a favourite.

To-day we breakfasted with the Schuylers to meet Mrs. Bruce and Cardinal Howard--no one else. We had a pretty little breakfast, most lively. I didn't find the Cardinal much changed, a little stouter perhaps. He was quite surprised at W.'s English; knew of course that he had been educated at Rugby and Cambridge, and had the Chancellor's medal, but thought he would have lost it a little having lived so many years in France, and having made all his political career in French. I asked him if he was as particular as ever about his horses. He always had such splendid black horses when we lived in Rome, but he said, rather sadly, that times were changed. W. and he talked a long time after breakfast.

He was very anxious to know whether _all_ the religious orders were threatened in France or merely the Jesuits. Comte Palfy (Austrian) came in just as we were leaving. He is so attractive--a great friend of l'Oncle Alphonse--knows everybody here and loves Rome.

W. and I went off to the Villa Albani--out of Porta Salara. We walked through the rooms--there are princ.i.p.ally busts, statues, bas-reliefs, etc.--and then loitered about the gardens which are fine. Fountains, vases, and statues in every direction, and always that beautiful view of the hills in the soft afternoon light.

I will finish when I come home from our _Black_ dinner. We are asked for seven, so of course will get back early, as we do not go anywhere afterward. I shall wear black, as I hear so many Princes of the church are to be there. Madame Hubert is very sorry I can't wear the long black veil that I did for the Pope--she found that most becoming.

Tuesday, March 12, 1880, 10.30 P.M.

We are just home from our dinner at the Portuguese Emba.s.sy, so I have got out of my gauds and into my tea-gown, and will finish this long letter. It was most interesting--a great deal of couleur locale. We arrived very punctually--three or four carriages driving up at the same time. There was of course a magnificent porter downstairs, and quant.i.ties of servants in handsome liveries; a good deal of red and powder. Two giants at the foot of the staircase, with the enormous tall candles which are de rigueur at a Black emba.s.sy when cardinals or amba.s.sadors dine. They were just preparing to escort some swell up the staircase as we arrived; there was a moment's halt, and the swell turned out to be M. Desprez, the new French Amba.s.sador to the Vatican (replacing the Marquis de Cabriac). He was half embarra.s.sed when he recognised us; W. had so lately been his chef that he couldn't quite make up his mind to pa.s.s before him--especially under such novel and rather trying conditions. However, there was nothing to be done, and he started up the great staircase between the tall candles, W. and I followed modestly in his wake. We found several people, including two or three cardinals, already there. The apartment is very handsome. The Amba.s.sador (Thomar) looked very well--"tres grand seigneur"--standing at the door of the first salon, and one saw quite a vista of large, brilliantly lighted rooms beyond. All the guests arrived very quickly--we had hardly time to exchange a word with any one. I saw the Sulmonas come in. I recognised her instantly, though I hadn't seen her for years. She was born Apponyi, and they were married when we were living in Rome. Also Marc Antonio Colonna and the d'Aulnays. Almost immediately dinner was announced. Sulmona took me in and I had a cardinal (Portuguese) on the other side. I didn't say much to the cardinal at first. He talked to his neighbour, and Sulmona and I plunged, of course, into old Roman days. He was much amused at the composition of the dinner, and wondered if it would interest W. He asked me if I remembered the fancy ball at the Palazzo Borghese. He had still the alb.u.m with all the photos, and remembered me perfectly as "Folie"

with short skirts, bells, mirror, etc. I remember it, of course, quite well. Some of the costumes were beautiful, particularly those copied from portraits. After a little while the cardinal turned his attention to me. He was a nice old man, speaking either French or Italian (both with a strong accent), and much interested in the guests. He asked me if I belonged to the corps diplomatique. I said no--we were merely strangers spending the winter in Rome. He thought there were a good many strangers at table--he didn't know half the people, not having been long in Rome; but he knew that there was one man dining whom he had a great desire to see, Waddington, the late French Premier; perhaps I knew him, and could point him out. He had always followed his career with great interest, but there were some things he couldn't understand, "par exemple son att.i.tude dans la question--" Then as I didn't know what he might be going to say, I interrupted, and said no one could point out that gentleman as well as I, as I was Madame Waddington. He looked a little uncomfortable, so I remarked, "Il diavolo non e tanto nero quant e dipinto" (The devil is not so black as he is painted), to which he replied, "Eh, no punto diavolo" (no devil)--was rather amused, and asked me if I would introduce him to W. after dinner. We then, of course, talked a little about France, and how very difficult the religious question was. He asked me where I had learned Italian, so I told him how many years we had lived in Rome when my brother was the last Minister from the United States to the Vatican. Sulmona joined in the talk, and we rather amused ourselves. Sulmona, of course, knew everybody, and explained some of the people, including members of his own (Borghese) family, who were very Black and uncompromising. Still, as I told him, the younger generation is less narrow-minded, more modern. I don't think they mean to cut themselves off from all partic.i.p.ation in the nation's history. After all, they are all Italians as well as Romans. The foreign marriages, too, make a difference. I don't think the sons of English and American mothers could settle down to that life of inaction and living on the past which the Black Party means in Rome.

As soon as I could after dinner I got hold of W. (which was difficult, as he was decidedly surrounded) and introduced him to my cardinal, whose name I never got, and I went to recall myself to Princess Sulmona. We had a nice talk first about her people--her father, Count Apponyi, was Austrian Amba.s.sador in Paris when Marshal MacMahon was President, and their salon was very brilliant, everybody going to them; the official world and the Faubourg St. Germain meeting, but not mingling. Then we talked a little about Rome, and the future of the young generation just growing up. Of course it is awfully difficult for families like Borghese and Colonna who have been bound up in the old papal world, and given popes to Italy, to break away from the traditions of centuries and go in frankly for "Italia Unita." Do you remember what they used to tell us of Prince Ma.s.simo? When some inquisitive woman asked if they really called themselves Fabius Maximus, he replied that it had been a family name for 1,400 years.

The present Prince Ma.s.simo is one of the most zealous supporters of the Pope. The great doors of his gloomy old palace have never been opened since the King of Italy came to Rome. One can't help admiring such absolute conviction and loyalty; but one wants more than that in these days of progress to keep a country alive.

The evening wasn't long; the cardinals never stay late, and every one went away at the same time. We again a.s.sisted at the ceremony of the big candles, as of course every cardinal and the Amba.s.sador had to be conducted downstairs with the same form. It was altogether a very interesting evening and quite different from any dinner we had ever been at. I don't think the French cardinals ever dine out in France; I don't remember ever meeting one. Of course the "nunzio" went everywhere and always had the "pas"--but one looks upon him more as a diplomatist than a priest.

W. enjoyed his evening very much. He is now settled in his arm-chair with his very disreputable pipe, and has been telling me his experiences. He found my old cardinal very intelligent, and very well up in French politics, and life generally. He liked Sulmona, too, very much; made her acquaintance, but didn't have a chance to talk much to her, as so many people were introduced to him. There is certainly a great curiosity to see him--I wonder what people expected to find? He looks very well, and is enjoying himself very much. I am so glad we did not stay in Paris; he would have had all sorts of small annoyances, and as it is, his friends write and want him to come back. He is quite conscious of the sort of feeling there is about him. First his appearance--a great many people refuse to believe that he is a Frenchman; he certainly is not at all the usual French type, with his fair hair, blue eyes, and broad shoulders; and when they realize that it is he the cautious, doubtful way in which the clericals begin a conversation with him, as if they expected red-hot anarchist declarations to fall from his lips, is most amusing. Cardinal Howard always seeks him out for a talk--but then he doesn't mince matters--goes straight to the subject he wants to discuss, and told him the other day he couldn't understand how a man of his English habits and education should ever have dropped (he didn't say degenerated, but I think he thought it) into a French republican government.

W. is very pleased to see the cordial way in which everybody meets me, and I must say I am rather touched by it myself. I have never had a moment's disappointment, and I was a little afraid, coming back in such changed circ.u.mstances after so many years. Everybody asks after you, and some one the other day--Countess Malatesta, I think--asked if you still wore in Paris your plain black dress and bonnet. I suppose she thought that even you couldn't have resisted the Paris modiste. It would seem strange to see you in a hat and feathers.

Good-night, dearest; W.'s pipe is out, and we are going to bed.

HoTEL DE LONDRES, March 14, 1880.

Cannons are firing, drums beating, flags flying in all directions to-day, dear mother. It is King Humbert's birthday and there is to be a great revue on the Piazza dell' Indipendenza. We are invited to go and see it by Turkam Pacha, Turkish Minister, who has an apartment on the Piazza; but as he told us that we should meet Ismail Pacha (the ex-Khedive) we thought we had better remain at home. I hardly think it would be a pleasure to Ismail to meet the man who was one of the chief instruments in his downfall. My sympathies were rather with the Khedive--I never quite understood why France and England should have politely but forcibly insisted upon his leaving his throne and country--but whenever I raised the question I had always that inert force the "raison d'etat" opposed to me. We crossed him the other day driving. The carriage full of red-fezzed men attracted my attention, and our Giuseppe told us who they were. He looked very fat and smiling, evidently was not ronge by his disasters. Turkam suggested that I should come alone, but that of course I could not do.

Mrs. Bailey, who has also an apartment on the Piazza, has asked us to come to her, but I think I shall stay quietly at home and look out of the window. I see lots of officers and functionaries, in uniform, pa.s.sing in fiacres and riding, and a general migration of the whole city including the beggars and flower girls of the Spanish Steps toward the Piazza. W. says he will smoke his cigar walking about in the crowd, and will see very well.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Queen Margherita of Italy.]

I was interrupted by a message from Gert begging me to come to her at once. Her maid was in such an extraordinary state of violence she thought she was crazy--and as Eugene was away for a day or two she was really afraid. I questioned the little footman who brought the note but he was very non-committal. W. was already off to see the review and I left him a note explaining where I was and asking him if I didn't get back to breakfast to come and get me at Gert's. I then started off with the little footman who had a fiacre waiting. As I entered the court of the Palazzo Altemps a glimpse of a white, frightened face at the window told me what Gert's state was. Poor dear, she was terribly upset, and Eugene's being away is a complication. Her two men-servants are very devoted, but they evidently feel uncomfortable. She asked me if I would go with her and see the woman. We found her sitting in a chair in Gert's dressing-room looking certainly most unpleasant, sullen, and an ugly look in her eyes. She is a great big Southern woman (French), could throw Gert out of the window if she wanted to. Gert spoke to her very gently, saying I had come to see her as I had heard she was not well.

She didn't answer nor move but gave Gert a nasty look--she evidently has got something against her. I looked at her very steadily--said we were very sorry she was suffering, which was most evident, and that the best thing for her would be to rest, attempt no service of any kind and go to her own room--that we had sent for Dr. Valery who would certainly be able to relieve her. She didn't answer at first, and looked as if she would like to spring upon us both, then burst into screams of abuse--"She would go to her room of course--would leave the house at once and never come back, etc." I told her I should certainly advise Mrs. Schuyler to send her away--that evidently the climate did not suit her, and she would be happier in France. She didn't answer, relapsed into her sullen silence, and almost immediately Valery appeared. He insisted very quietly that she should go to her own room (at the other end of the apartment), and she went off with him, giving an ugly look at Gert as she pa.s.sed. It seems she already had had such an attack, less violent, when they were at Birmingham, but once it was over went on quite peaceably and didn't seem to realize how ill she had been. Valery came back to tell us the result of his examination--said she had already calmed down and was anxious to beg her mistress's pardon, but that she was of a nervous, dangerous temperament, and at any moment might have a relapse. Of course she must go, but it is very uncomfortable. I took Gert out for a drive. W. sent me a line to say he was busy all the afternoon and would not come unless I wanted him. I think the air and distraction did her good. The streets had a decidedly festive appearance. There were a good many flags everywhere, and soldiers still pa.s.sing on their way back to their various barracks. We were kept some time in the Corso seeing a battalion of "bersaglieri" pa.s.s. They had good music and looked very spirited as they moved along with all their feathers flying. They were rather small, but well set up, and marched in beautiful time with a light, quick step. We saw some cavalry too, but I didn't care so much for them. I thought the men looked too tall for the horses--their legs too near the ground.

We went to Nazzari's for tea, and the man was so smiling and pleased to see me that I asked him if he knew me--"Ma s, certamente, la Signorina King"--had seen me various times in the Piazza or driving, and hoped I would come in some day for tea. I went upstairs with Gert when I took her home, and left every possible instruction with the maitre d'hotel to look after her, and above all to look after Louise, and not let her leave her room. The cook's wife will help her dress, as the poor thing has a dinner.

We have dined quietly at home. W. was tired, having been out all day.

There is a reception at the French Emba.s.sy, but we shan't go. I told W.

about the maid and the exciting morning we had had. He said of course the woman must go at once--that she had evidently a grudge of some kind against Gert, and might do her some injury. He had had rather a pleasant day. He walked about in the crowd seeing everything very well. He was rather favourably impressed with the Italian soldiers--said they were small as a rule, but light and active--marched very well. The King looked well, and was very well received. He thought him a striking figure on horseback in uniform, that curious type of all the Savoy Princes. They don't look modern at all, but as if they belonged to another century. I don't know exactly what it is--one sees the same sort of face so often in old Spanish and Italian portraits.

He had breakfasted alone, as I was over with Gert, and then started off with Monsignor English to meet Father Smith at the Catacombs, where they had a long delightful afternoon. He says Father Smith is a charming guide, knows and loves every corner of the Catacombs. His brogue, too, is attractive, sounds so out of place in that atmosphere of Latin and old-world tombs and inscriptions. He also told me what pleased me very much, that the Pope will give me his photograph, signed. Monsignor English told him to tell me, and he will come and see us to-morrow.

Among our cards was one from the Cardinal Di Pietro--Doyen of the College of Cardinals--coming first to see W. What would the Protocole say?

March 16, 1880.

Schuyler has got back, and the maid is a lamb, but is going all the same. The doctor and the other servants advise it strongly, and I am sure Gert will find a nice Italian maid here to replace her. W. and I have done a fair amount of sight-seeing these days, and yesterday he paid a long visit to Cardinal Nina--Secretary of Foreign Affairs for the Vatican. He found him reasonable and interesting. I tell him he is getting quite a "papalino"--he finds the Cardinals so pleasant. He came and got me after his visit and we went off to the Chambre des Deputes.

Visconti Venosta was going to make a great speech attacking the Ministry on their foreign policy, and they thought there would be a lively seance. We were in the Diplomatic box--all the Amba.s.sadors were there, and he had just got up to speak as we got there. They don't speak from the tribune, as in France. Every man speaks from his own place--and as he had his back to us we didn't hear very well. He spoke very easily, and was very well listened to. Occasionally there would be a sort of growl of disapproval, but on the whole the house was much quieter than ours. Cairoli looked quite composed when Visconti was pitching into him, smiling even when he remarked he didn't understand the Italian character, nor how to use the great powers his position gave him, etc.

Various people came up and spoke to me, among others Countess Celleri, who seems to be taking up politics now. She has grown a little older, but is very handsome still, and was evidently a great attraction to all the young diplomatists who were in the box. W. admired her appearance and manner very much. We stayed there till 5.30 hoping that Cairoli would answer, but he didn't, the discussion rather trailed on, so we went for a turn in the Villa Borghese to get a little air before our dinner at the British Emba.s.sy. It was very crowded, all the swells driving--King, Queen, and Khedive all in separate carriages. The King in a small victoria with one aide-de-camp--the Queen in her big landau with one lady and the red royal liveries; the Khedive in an ordinary carriage, but conspicuous, as he and his gentlemen all wore the red fez.

Our Paget dinner was pleasant. They have got a big villa in the Venti Settembre out toward Porta Pia. There is a large garden with fine trees, and the entrance and staircase are handsome. We were 36--Italians chiefly--but a few Diplomatists. I knew almost every one, Calabrinis, Minghettis, Somaglias (you will remember her name, she was Gwendoline Doria, and married when we lived in Rome), Serristori, Castagneta and some Deputies and gentlemen of the Palace who, of course, were strangers to me. The dining-room is large with a quite round table which must be very difficult to cover, there were such s.p.a.ces. I think there must have been hundreds of roses on the table. The Marquis de Villamarina, head of the Queen's household, took me in, and I had Uxkull on the other side, Lady Paget next to him. We all talked together, and I complimented Lady Paget on the quickness of the service. It was always one of our preoccupations at the Quai d'Orsay to get through these long official dinners as soon as possible. W. took in Madame Visconti Venosta, and they seemed to be getting on swimmingly. After dinner I talked some time to Countess Somaglia, and asked to be introduced to the Marquise Villamarina. She told me the Queen would certainly receive us, but couldn't quite fix the day yet as she had many official rendezvous these days. When the men came in from smoking I had a few words with Calabrini, and one or two Deputies were presented, Sella, Lanza, etc., but I really only _talked_ to Sir Augustus Paget. He said they were going to have a small ball after Easter, and hoped we should still be here. I hope we shall, I should like to see the ball-room--they say all the decoration, painting, flowers, cupids, etc., has been done by Lady Paget herself. The party broke up early, no one stays late at dinner.

There is always a reception somewhere to which everybody goes.

We came home as I get tired at night. We begin our day early, and are never in the house. This morning Gert and I went out shopping in the Piazza della Minerva and Campo Marzo--it was most amusing. We got two dresses for her--one of that coa.r.s.e Roman linen, and a very pretty Roman silk from Bianchi, the same man who existed in our days. He looked most smiling and evidently recognised the familiar faces, though he could not put a name to them. We got the linen in a funny little old shop, low, and as dark as pitch. I never should have dreamed of going there for anything, but some one told us it was _the_ place for linen, and we found at once what we wanted. I bought two Roman sashes--one for Alice and a ribbon for Nounou. We pottered about for some time looking at the bits of old brocade and embroidery, some pieces stretched out on the pavement with a stone at each end to hold them down. There were two pieces of old rose brocade which looked very tempting, but when I took them up I saw there were thin places in the silk, and spots--so I resisted these "occasions." The woman was amusing, tried to make us buy, but knew quite well her silk was not first-rate. She evidently attached no importance to the spots (e vecchia), but allowed that the frayed bits were not encouraging.