If I married Captain Carlo, well! I would hunt on the Campagna, join the gayest set in Rome, and continue my flirtations. I would wear the family jewels and keep the tapestries (unless we got hard up) and be tolerated if I presented my lord and master with a son and heir. But then he is far away in South Africa by now.

If I should marry Prince Boris, what would my life be? Ah! that is a question. On the whole I might get more out of life by marrying a foreigner and living in Europe, than an American and pa.s.sing my time maybe in a small western town, who knows?

Signor Peppi leaves this afternoon for Rome, and, I fear, without making an offer to Aunt. I want to send you something by him, but he has already lost his boots and cane as well as his overcoat, so no telling how much of him will arrive there. However, I will risk sending you a little gift.

I am just full of business. Aunt says I must learn to travel, so this is the first trip I am to manage. I have been despatching telegrams in all directions, buying tickets, reservations, and Baedekers, and so forth, and I hope we shall get to the Hague all right.

Are you behaving yourself these days, sir?

A. D. TO POLLY

_Rome._

THE DIARY OF A DAY'S DOINGS[4]

A leaflet published under the _nom de plume_ of

"An August Daily"

(very august)

Dedicated with love to Miss Pollykins.

[4] Issued in response to a certain inquiry as to whether or not I am behaving myself.

Was awakened at the usual hour by the faithful Gilet, and as usual turned over and went to sleep again. Up betimes, however, and reviewed the morning news in the _Populo Romano_. Breakfasted on two eggs and a cup of coffee.

Today tried for the first time a new-fangled egg-opener, which, I concluded, would require practice and experience before using in public. Shall have to have another napkin for the table at luncheon time.

Then out and to the Emba.s.sy. Found the usual a.s.sortment of mail on my desk, desiring audiences of Queen, or Pope; loan of money, or of anything, and proposals of marriage, to which last item I sent printed forms of reply.

Work.

More work.

Will you subscribe to this publication, dear Polly?

POLLY TO A. D.

_The Hague, August._

So you have made a flying trip to Rome, launched a daily paper, and returned to Monte Catini. For that matter, I, too, have not been idle, for we have had, since my last letter, a chapter of adventures, really. You know I was going to take charge of this complicated trip.

Well! Fate was against me. We started off nicely from Baden-Baden, but hadn't gone far when a discussion arose with the guard as to where to change cars. A station official settled that and hustled us into another train. As we were feeling quite contented and having a good snooze, we suddenly heard a great rumpus, and found our caboose had broken down on a bridge. They flagged the Orient express which was coming behind and hurried us out again into the dark with our bags and put us aboard, but in the excitement Louisa, the maid, lost her ticket.

At Strasbourg we had to change cars once more, and being late, we simply dashed across the station with the guards flying behind and yelling, "You have only one minute!" It really was awfully comical.

Arriving at Brussels early I had a splendid morning, seeing among other things the Grande Place with its beautiful old buildings, and visiting the Gallery Wiertz with all those marvellous but crazy pictures.

Back to the train again, but alas! our troubles were not at an end.

Checkers stopped to pay the cabby and Aunt and I went into the station. I was a little ahead with a bag in each hand when suddenly a perfectly strange man came up and kissed me. I screamed, dropped everything I was carrying and stared about me, only to see him run away and look back, laughing. Did you ever hear of anything so saucy?

We got into the car somehow, but Checkers didn't come and so we went off without him. Aunt said someone must have cast an evil eye on us.

Such an amusing account as Checkers gave us later of his experience in Brussels! It seems he had only three francs in his pocket, not enough for the cab. The driver was furious and couldn't understand his French and thought he was trying to cheat him and demanded his arrest. A sympathetic Englishman offered to "change him a crown," which, unfortunately, he didn't possess. Finally he went to a banker's and got things straightened out and came on the next train. It is only three-thirty now and I am wondering what will happen next. The excitement can't keep up much longer. The "Sensation Captain," as they now call me, has resigned.

Aunt sends her love but says the only thing she has against you so far is the fear that she may become a confirmed dipsomaniac through drinking your health so often. But it is really a silent toast to Peppi, I think. Of course, if she wants to cherish an absurd attachment for him it is none of my business, but she makes me just a little tired!

A. D. TO POLLY

_Monte Catini, August._

Dear, dear Sensation Captain, what a day that was, to be sure, that you wrote about. I have read and re-read your experiences and wish I might have been along to share the perils by cabmen and the perils by train! But you reached The Hague all the same while I was at this ineffective distance. Oh, please let _me_ manage a trip some time for my pretty Polly.

Your little gondola is here in my pocket, for we are inseparable companions. Indeed I know of none more agreeable, since I cannot be with you, for while the little boat is always suggesting something pleasant, yet she permits me to do the talking; so we get on swimmingly, or rather floatingly, the gondola and I.

I often think, dear, how at the big receptions last spring, I found such delight in looking at you. Your manner toward all was so charming. And do you remember the dinner at the American Emba.s.sy when I didn't sit next to the girl I wanted? But you didn't seem to mind, and flirted with the Prince, though every now and then you did look at me just a little, didn't you? And then afterwards, in the great corridor, when the Amba.s.sador was talking to you more affably than I had ever seen him, I stood by and felt proud and didn't know why--though I do now, indeed!

I saw the Spanish Marquis yesterday. He looked at me suspiciously, but perhaps it was just my imagination, because I knew you had refused him. No one has heard from Don Carlo, but I believe the gardener's daughter _has_ followed him to South Africa.

As for my conduct in Monte Catini, I am doing pretty well, which is the limit of opportunity in this Tuscan place among the Pistojan hills. Anyhow, your Dip is thinking constantly of you, and looking a good many times lately into the back of his timepiece (which Checkers wanted to inspect, do you remember? and I wouldn't let him). People may think I am gazing at the face of my watch, but I watch another face, I a.s.sure you!

POLLY TO A. D.

_The Hague, August._

Oh, A. D., such a funny time as we have had since arriving here! Our bad luck still continues. First hotel, no rooms to be had; second hotel, rooms but no meals; third, only one room left, and they were surprised because Aunt, Checkers and I didn't want to sleep in it all together. "Why, it is a big one!" said the proprietor. How we laughed!

But we have a fine apartment now and are quite happy.

It has rained steadily all day and this morning we went to see the "House in the Woods." The practical, plump little Queen is away. I suppose we shall spend most of the day in the picture galleries. The Hague gives me the impression of being one huge gallery of more or less immoral fat men and women carousing.

One thing is certain, this country is a paradise for cows, with its green pastures. I do wish we had our cow here with us for she would enjoy the gra.s.s so much.

Jonkheer Jan's house is fine and large. They have a remarkable collection of Delft ware, plates all over the walls, and tapestries, splendid wood-carving in the hall, and no end of old Dutch silver.

Please tell him how we enjoyed meeting his mother and father, as he was good enough to give us a letter of introduction to them.

But, oh, I am so homesick I don't know what to do! Nearly a year away from home. At first there was the excitement of seeing new places and people, and I did enjoy travelling, but now it has worn off a little, and you are so far away. That ought not to make any difference, I have seen you so little, but I think it does. I haven't flirted with a soul for such a long time--not since I left you in Venice. Rather good for me. But, A. D., how little we have really seen of each other! Here and there last spring, just a glimpse at a party, a few words of society nonsense, and perhaps a bit of a chat in the small room on the terrace, and--your coming to Sorrento. I was so surprised that you wanted to come.

But, to be sure, Mona Lisa had left Rome.