CHAPTER XIV

IN WHICH I MAKE A RESOLVE

The great broad plain which lies between marble-built Pisa and the sea was flooded by the golden Italian sunset, and the background of the serrated Apennines loomed a dark purple in the distance as we approached the long breakwater which protects Leghorn from the sea.

Leaning over the rail, I gazed upon the white sun-blanched Tuscan town, and recognised the gay Passeggio, with its avenue of dusky tamarisks, its long rows of high white houses, with their green _persiennes_, and Pancaldi's, and other baths, built out upon the rocks into the sea. Years ago, when at the convent, we had gone there each summer, a dozen or so girls at a time, under the care of Suor Angelica, to obtain fresh air and escape for a fortnight or so from the intolerable heat of July in the Val d'Ema. How well I remembered that long promenade, the Viale Regina Margherita, best known to those happy, light-hearted, improvident Livornesi by its ancient name, the Passeggio! And what long walks we girls used to have over the rocks beyond Antignano, or scrambling climbs up to the shrine of the miracle-working Virgin at Montenero! Happy, indeed, were those summer days with my girl friends--girls who had now, like myself, grown to be women--who had married, and had experienced all the trials and bitterness of life. I thought of her who was my best friend in those past days--pretty, black-haired, unassuming Annetta Ceriani, from Arezzo. She had left the college the same week as myself, and our parting had been a very sad one. In a year, however, she had married, and was now a princess, the wife of Romolo Annibale Cesare Sigismondo, Prince Regello, who, to give him all his titles, was "principe Romano, principe di Pinerolo, conte di Lucca, nobile di Monte Catini." Truly, the Italian nobility do not lack titles. But poor Annetta! Her life had been the reverse of happy, and the last