Chapter 9

But the excitement was so infectious that the girls could not resist another run after royalty; so, while Livy consoled herself with the fire and the cat, they took a carriage and chased the King till they caught him at the Capitol. They had a fine view of him as he came down the long steps, almost alone, and at the peril of his life, through a mass of people cheering frantically, and whitening the streets with waving handkerchiefs.

The enthusiastic damsels mounted up beside the driver, and hurrahed with all their hearts and voices, as well they might, for it certainly was a sight to see. The courage of the King, in trusting himself in a city full of enemies, touched the people quite as much as the kindly motive that brought him there, and kept him sacred in their eyes.

The girls had a second view of him on the balcony of the Quirinal; for the populace clamoured so for another sight of 'Il Re,' that the Pope's best velvet hangings were hastily spread, and Victor Emmanuel came out and bowed to his people, 'who stood on their heads with joy,' as Amanda expressed it.

He was in citizen's dress, and looked like a stout, brown, soldierly man, not so ugly as the pictures of him, but not an Apollo by any means.

Hating ceremony and splendour, he would not have the fine apartments prepared for him, but chose a plain room, saying, 'Keep the finery for my son, if you like; I prefer this.'

He drove through the Ghetto, and all the desolated parts of the city, to see with his own eyes the ruin made; and then desired the city fathers to give to the poor the money they had set apart to make a splendid welcome for him.

He only spent one day, and returned to Florence at night. All Rome was at the station to see him off: ladies with carriages full of flowers, troops of soldiers, and throngs of poor people blessing him like a saint; for this kingly sympathy of his had won all hearts.

'When he does make his grand entry, we will decorate our balcony, and have our six windows packed with loyal Yankees who will hurrah their best for "the honest man," as they call Victor Emmanuel--and that is high praise for a king.'

So said the three, and while waiting for the event (which did not occur in their day, however,) they indulged in all the pastimes modern Rome afforded. They shivered through endless galleries, getting 'cricks' in their necks staring at frescoes, and injuring their optic nerves poring over pictures so old that often nothing was visible but a mahogany-coloured leg, an oily face, or the dim outline of a green saint in a whirlwind of pink angels.

They grubbed in catacombs and came up mouldy. They picnicked in the tomb of Caecelia Metella, flirted in the palace of the Caesars--not in the classical manner, however,--got cold by moonlight in the Colosseum, and went sketching in the Baths of Caracalla, which last amusement generally ended in the gentlemen and ladies drawing each other, and returning delighted with the study of art in 'dear Rome.'

They went to fancy parties, where artists got themselves up like their own statues and pictures, and set mediaeval fashions which it was a pity the rest of the world did not follow. They drank much social tea with titled beings, as thick as blackberries, and, better still, men and women who had earned noble names for themselves with pencil, pen, or chisel. They paid visits in palaces where the horses lived in the basement, rich foreigners on the first floor, artists next, and princes in the attic.

They went to the hunt, and saw scarlet coats, fine horses, bad riding, many hounds, and no foxes.

As a change they got up game parties _a la_ Little Athens in their own small _salon_, introduced the Potatoe Pantomime, had charades, and enacted the immortal Jarley's waxworks on one of the Seven Hills.

A true Yankee breakfast of fish-balls, johnny-cake, and dip-toast, was given in their honour, and its delights much enhanced by its being eaten in a lovely room with reeds and rushes on the pale-green walls, shell-shaped chairs, and coral mirror-frames. What a thing it was to consume those familiar viands in a famous palace, with Guido's Cenci downstairs, a great sculptor next door, three lovely boys as waiters, and 'Titian T.' to head the feast, and follow it up with dates from the Nile, and Egyptian sketches that caused the company to vote a speedy adjournment to the land 'of corkendills' and pyramids.

These and many other joys they tasted, and when all else palled upon them they drove on the Campagna and were happy.

It is sad to be obliged to record that these quiet drives were the especial delight of the unsocial Lavinia, whose ill-regulated mind soon wearied of swell society, classical remains, and artistic revelry. Ancient Rome would have suited her excellently, she thought; but modern Rome was such a chaos of frivolity and fanaticism, poverty and splendour, dirt and devilry, dead grandeur and living ignorance, that she felt as if shut up in a magnificent tomb, the bad air of which was poisoning both body and soul.

Her only consolation was the new freedom, that seemed to blow over Rome like a wholesome wind. Old residents lamented the loss of the priestly pageants, _fetes_, and ceremonies; but this republican spinster preferred to see Rome guarded by her own troops, and governed by her own King, who ordered streets to be cleaned, fountains filled, schools opened, and all good institutions made possible, rather than any amount of Papal purple covering poverty, ignorance, and superstition. Better than the sight of all the red coaches that ever rumbled was the spectacle of many boys quitting the Jesuit college and demanding admittance into the free schools; and sweeter than the music of all the silver trumpets that ever blew were the voices of happy men and women singing once forbidden songs of liberty in the streets of Rome.

These sentiments, and others equally unfashionable, were only breathed into the ear of sister Matilda when the two retired to the Campagna to confide to one another the secrets of their souls--a process necessary about once a week; for after visiting studios, going to parties, and telling polite fibs about everything they saw, it was impossible to exist without finding a vent of some sort. Once out among the aqueducts, Matilda could freely own that she thought genius a rare article in the studios, where she expected to learn so much; and Lavinia could make the awful avowal that parties at which the order of performance was gossip, tea, music--then music, tea, and gossip, all together--were not her idea of intellectual society. Their criticisms on pictures and statues cannot be recorded without covering their humble names with infamy; and why the sky did not fall upon, or the stones rise up and smite these Vandals, is a mystery to this day.

They did enjoy much in their own improper manner, but poor Amanda's sufferings can better be imagined than described. So when Lavinia, early in March, proposed to flee to the mountains before they became quite demoralized, and learned to steal and stab, as well as lie and lounge, she readily assented, and they retired to Albano.

'The decline and fall of the Roman Empire was nothing to this, and never have I seen such unappreciative women as you two,' sighed Amanda, as they rolled away from Numero Due Piazza Barberini, leaving Agrippina sobbing at the top of the stairs and the _padrona_ bobbing little curtsies at the bottom.

'I am sure the Cenci will haunt me all my days, and so will many other famous things,' said Matilda, while her eye roved fondly from a very brown Capuchin monk to a squad of Bersaglieri trotting by with jaunty cocks' feathers dancing in the wind, muskets gleaming, and trim boots skipping through the mud with martial regularity.

'When I get the contents of my head sorted out, I shall doubtless rejoice that I have seen Rome; but just now all that I can clearly recall are the three facts that the Pope had a fit, our dear man Romeo got very tipsy one night, and that we went to see the Sistine Chapel the day the eclipse made it as dark as a pocket. Yes,' continued Lavinia, with an air of decision, 'I _am_ glad to have seen this classical cesspool, and still more glad to have got out of it alive,' she added, sniffing the air from the mountains, as if the odour of sanctity which pervaded the holy city did not suit her.

It blew great guns up at Albano, and the society consisted chiefly of donkeys. But the ladies enjoyed themselves nevertheless, and felt better and better every day; for early hours, much exercise, and no aesthetic tea, soon set them up after the dissipation of the winter.

Three pleasing events diversified their stay. The first happened the day after they arrived. The girls went forth early to look about them, and to see if they could find a little apartment where all could be more comfortable than in the breezy rooms at the hotel. Following the grassy road that winds down the valley below the viaduct, they came to a lovely garden, and, finding the gate open, went in. A queer old villa was perched on the hill above, and a manly form was observed to be leaning from a balcony, as if enjoying the fine view from the height.

'I fancied that house was empty, or we wouldn't have come in. Never mind: we won't go back now; and if any one comes after us, we will apologize and say we lost our way going to Ajaccio,' said Amanda, as they went calmly forward among the posy-beds that lay blooming on the hill-side.

It was well they prepared themselves, for the manly form suddenly disappeared from the balcony, and a moment afterwards came swiftly towards them through the shrubs.

A comely young gentleman, who greeted them with Italian grace, accepted their apology smiling, and begged them to walk in his garden whenever they liked. It was always open, he said, and the peasants often used that path, admiring but never hurting a leaf. Hearing that they were in search of an apartment, he instantly begged them to come up and look at some rooms in the villa. His father was a refugee from France, and desired to let a part of his house. Come and behold these delightful rooms.

So charming was the interest he took in the errant damsels that they could not resist, and after rolling up their eyes at one another to express their enjoyment of the adventure, they graciously followed the handsome youth into the villa.

With confiding hospitality he took them everywhere--into his mother's room, the kitchen, and nursery. In the latter place they found two small boys, who bore such a striking resemblance to Napoleon I. that the girls spoke of it, and were enraptured at the reply they received.

'Truly yes: we belong to the family. My mother is a Buonaparte, my father Count ----'

'Here's richness and romance!' 'What will Livy say?' whispered the girls to one another, as their guide left them in the _salon_ and went to find his father.

'She will scold us for coming here,' said Amanda, remembering her own lectures on the proprieties.

'Yes; but she will forgive us the minute we say Napoleon, for that bad little man is one of her heroes,' added Mat, pretending to be admiring the view, while she privately examined a lady in a bower below--a stout, dark lady, with all the family traits so strongly marked that there could be no doubt of the young man's assertion.

Presently he came back with an affable old gentleman, who evidently had an eye to the main chance; for, in spite of his elegance and affability, he asked a great price for his rooms, and felt that any untitled stranger should be glad to pay well for the honour of living under the roof of a Buonaparte.

Amanda left the decision to her invisible duenna, and with a profusion of compliments and thanks, they got away, being gallantly escorted to the gate by the young count, who filled their hands with flowers, and gazed pensively after them, as if he found the society of two bright American girls very agreeable after that of his lofty parents, or the peasantry of the town.

Home they ran and bounced in upon Livy, blooming and breathless, to pour out their tale, and suggest an immediate departure to the blissful spot where counts and crocuses flourished with Italian luxuriance.

But after the first excitement had subsided, Lavinia put a wet blanket on the entire plan by declaring that she would never board with any grasping old patrician, who would charge for every bow, and fall back on his ancestors if he was found cheating. She would go and look at the place, but not enter it, nor be beholden to the resident Apollo for so much as a dandelion.

So the mourning damsels led the griffin over the viaduct, through the dirty little town, by the villa on its least attractive side. Up at the window were the two little Napoleonic heads, with big, black eyes, strong chins, and dark hair streaked across wide, olive-coloured foreheads. A vision of papa was visible in the garden pruning a vine with gloves on his aristocratic hands, and a shabby velvet coat on his highly connected back. Also, afar off on the balcony--oh, sight to touch a maiden's heart!--was the young count gazing wistfully towards Albano. He did not see the charmers as they crept down the rough road close to the garden wall, and went sadly home, along the blooming path, to the 'Tomb of the Four Thimbles,' as Livy irreverently called the ruin which has an ornament at each of its corners like a gigantic thimble of stone.

A note in Amanda's most elegant French, declining the apartments in the name of Madame Duenna, closed the door of this Eden upon the wandering peris, who entered never more. Now and then, as they went clattering by on their donkeys to Lake Nemi, or some other picturesque spot,

They saw again the crocus bloom, And, leaning from that lofty room, Sir Launcelot with face of gloom Look down to Camelot. Up flew their veils and floated wide, But Livy pinned them to her side, 'The curse has come upon us!' cried The ladies of Shalott.

The second adventure befell Amanda alone, and in this wise.

Going one day to Rome, on business, she found herself shut up in a car with a gorgeous officer and a meek young man, who read papers all the way. The tall soldier, in his gray and silver uniform, with a furred, frogged, and braided jacket, not to mention the high boots or the becoming cap, was so very polite to the lone lady that she could not remain dumb without positive rudeness. So Amanda conversed in her most charming manner, finding inspiration doubtless in the dark eyes and musical voice of her handsome _vis-a-vis_, for the officers from Turin are things of beauty and joys for ever to those who love to look on manly men.

Among other things, the two had a little joke about the Baron Rothschild, who rode about Albano on a tiny donkey with two servants behind him; also the Baroness, a painfully plain woman, with an ugly dog the image of herself.

When they arrived at Rome, however, their joke was turned against them, by the discovery that the meek man was the Baron's secretary, who would doubtless repeat their chat at head-quarters. To see the handsome man slap his brow, and then laugh like a boy at the fun, was worth a longer journey, Amanda thought, as he put her into a carriage, gave her his best martial salute, and went clanking away about his own affairs.

Amanda returned at 4 P.M., and her emotions may be imagined when the dark face of her officer peered in at the car window, and the melodious voice asked if he might be permitted to enter. Of course he might; and, as no secretary now spoilt the _tete-a-tete_, Mars became delightfully confidential, and poured his woes into the sympathising bosom of Amanda.

It had been a great affliction to him that his regiment was quartered at Albano for some months. _Mio Dio!_ so dull was it, life had already become a burden; but now, if the Signorina was to be there, if she permitted him to make himself known to her party, what joys were in store for him. The Signorina loved to ride. Behold he had superb horses languishing in the stables, that henceforth were dedicated to her use. His fellow officers were gentlemen of good family, brave as lions, and dying of _ennui_; if they might be presented to the ladies, life would be worth having, and Albano a paradise, &c.

To all this devotion the prudent Amanda listened with pleasure, but promised nothing till Signore Mars had made the acquaintance of certain American gentleman and married ladies, then it would be possible to enjoy the delights of which he spoke. The Colonel vowed he would instantly devote himself to this task, and thus they came to the lonely little station at Albano.

Amanda had ordered the carriage to meet her; but it was not there, and she was forced to wait till all her fellow-passengers were gone. All but the gallant officer, who decorously remained outside, marching to and fro as if on guard, till his servant came with his horse. Then he begged to be allowed to see why the carriage did not come, and Amanda consented, for night was falling, and two miles of mud lay between her and home.

Away dashed the servant, but his master did not follow: standing in the doorway, he declared that he must remain as the Signorina's protector, for no trains were due for hours; the depot man was gone, and it was too late for any lady to stay there alone. Again Amanda gratefully consented, wondering what would be the end of her adventure; and again the stately Colonel resumed his march outside, singing as he tramped, and evidently enjoying the escort duty that gave him so good an opportunity of displaying not only his gallantry, but his fine voice and handsome figure.

Down rattled the carriage at last, accompanied, to Amanda's dismay, by three of the Colonel's friends, who had evidently received a hint of the affair, and had come to have a hand in it.

With much bowing of the gentlemen, and much prancing of their fine horses, Amanda was handed to her seat, and went lumbering back to the hotel with her splendid escort careering about her, to the great edification of the town.

When the rescued damsel told the tale to her mates, Matilda tore her hair and lamented that she had not been there. Even the stern Livy had no lecture for the erring lamb, but was as full of interest as either of the girls, for anything in the shape of a soldier was dear to her heart.

When the ladies rode forth next day, three elegant St. Georges in full rig saluted as these modern Unas ambled by on their meek donkeys--a performance punctually executed ever afterward whenever the three blue veils appeared. Much curvetting went on before the hotel door; much clanking of spurs and sabres was heard in the little lane on to which the apartment of the ladies looked, and splendid officers seemed to spring up like violets in secluded spots where maidens love to stroll.

It was all very nice; and the girls were beginning to feel that the charms of Albano rivalled those of Rome, when a sad blow upset their castles in the air, and desolated the knights over the way.

The highly respectable Americans who were to serve as the link between the soldiers and the ladies decidedly declined the office, objecting to the martial gentleman as being altogether too dangerous to bring into the dove-cot. So the poor dears sighed in vain, and the longing damsels never rode the fine horses that were temptingly paraded before them on all occasions.

They did their best; but it was soon evident to Lavinia that in some unguarded moment the impetuous Mat would yield to the spell and go gambading away for a ride _sans_ duenna, _sans_ habit, _sans_ propriety, _sans_ everything. Amanda likewise seemed losing her head, and permitted the dark-eyed Colonel to talk to her when they met; only a moment--but what a perilous moment it was!--when this six-foot Mars leaned over a green hedge and talked about the weather in the softest Italian that ever melted a woman's heart.

'I'm going to Venice next week; so you may as well make up your minds to it, girls. I _cannot_ bear this awful responsibility any longer; for I am very sure you will both be off to Turin with those handsome rascals if we stay much longer. My mind is made up, and I won't hear a word.'

Thus Lavinia, with a stern countenance; for the romantic old lady felt the charm as much as the girls did, and decided that discretion was the better part of valour for the whole party.

'I should never dare to go home and tell my honoured parents that Mat had run away with a man as handsome as Jove, and as poor as Job. Amanda's indignant relatives would rise up and stone me if I let her canter into matrimony with the fascinating Colonel, who may have a wife and ten children in Turin, for all we know. They _must_ be torn away at once, or my character as duenna is lost for ever.'

Having made up her mind, Livy steeled her heart to all appeals, and wrote letters, packed trunks, and watched her little flock like a vigilant sheep-dog.

How she would ever have got them through that last week is very uncertain, if a providential picnic had not helped her.

A fair was held in the town, and a delightful surprise-party was got up among the artists of Rome. Twenty-five came driving over in a big carriage, with four gaily decorated horses, postilions, hampers of lunch, flutes and horns, and much jollity bottled up for the occasion.

A very festive spectacle they made as they drove through the narrow streets with flowers and streamers in their hats, singing and joking in true artistic style.

They meant to have lunched in the open air; but, as it was cloudy, decided to spread the feast at the hotel. Such a delightful revel as followed! A scene from the 'Decameron,' modernised, would give some idea of it; for after the banquet all adjourned to the gardens of the Doria Villa, and there disported themselves as merrily as if all the plagues of life were quite forgotten, and death itself among the lost arts. Flirting and dancing, charades and singing, stories and statues, poems and pictures, gossip and gambols, absorbed the hours as pleasantly as in the olden time. And if the costumes were not as picturesque as those in Vedder's fine picture, the ladies were as lovely, the gentlemen as gallant, and all much better behaved than those of Boccaccio's party.

A few drops of rain quenched the fun at its height, and sent the revellers home as fast as four horses could take them, leaving the town gaping after them, and our ladies much enlivened by the delights of the day.

This third and last event pleasantly ended their sojourn at Albano; for a day or two later they vanished, leaving the dear officers disconsolate till the next batch of travelling ladies came to comfort their despair.

A week was spent in Venice, floating about all day from one delightful old church to another, or paying visits to Titians and Tintorettos; buying little turtles, photographs, or Venetian glass; eating candied fruit and seeing the doves fed in the square of San Marco; visiting shops full of dusty antiquities, or searching the stalls on the Rialto for Moor's-head rings; being rowed to the Lido by Giacomo in a red sash; and lulled to sleep at night by the songs of a chorus that floated under the windows in the moonlight.

Lavinia never could get used to seeing the butcher, the baker, and the postman go their rounds in boats. Matilda was in bliss, with a gondola all to herself, where she sat surrounded with water-colours, trying to paint everything she saw; for here the energy she had lost at Rome seemed to return to her. Amanda haunted a certain shop, trying to make the man take a reasonable sum for a very ancient and ugly bit of jewellery, which she called 'a sprigalario,' for want of a better name; and after each failure she went off to compose herself with a visit to the Doges.