Polly the Pagan Part 3

_Rome, February._

Pittsburgo came to call and stayed forever and ever AMEN. He talked most of the time about a beautiful Italian singer. Then A. D. and the Prince arrived and we had tea, and it made me feel like old times when I used to sit in the parlor at home and have beaux, knowing all the time that Auntie was behind the screen. Those were good old times, but they seem a long way off now. Finally Pittsburgo and A. D. went, and Aunt invited the Prince to stay to dinner. Afterwards Aunt was so tired she went off for a snooze. But if it had been the temperamental Peppi that stayed, I don't think she would have been so sleepy; or maybe she wished to leave us alone.

Later we went to a charity bazaar at Baronessa Blanc's, where there were flunkies in beautiful liveries at every landing, and flowers and tapestries. A. D. appeared upon the scene. He and I are getting to be quite good friends, though I know he is terribly devoted to the pretty divorcee with a Mona Lisa smile and a come-hither eye. Probably she is the person he is engaged to, if he really is engaged. He has me guessing.

The Prince is very cross with me. He makes me laugh, and tells me I would flirt even with a pair of tongs. The more I see him, the more mysterious he grows. He talks incessantly, and is as strange as the Oriental cane he carries. He is not officially attached to the Russian Emba.s.sy, at least, so A. D. says, and his best friends seem to be the Turks. When he is not speaking broken English he uses French, but that's the diplomatic language everywhere.

The other night I started out with Louisa to a dinner at the French Emba.s.sy. She's the prettiest, dark-eyed, olive-skinned contadina you ever saw, and while we were driving she chattered to me in the most knowing way about the King and Queen and court, of their family life, even telling me where the King has his was.h.i.+ng done. She doesn't know why, but--strange to say--it is all sent to Milan! It appears she knows intimately the Queen's hairdresser. Louisa is trying to learn English and delights in showing off. Much to our amus.e.m.e.nt, she refers to Aunt as "he," to Checkers as "she," and to me as "it."

Don Carlo, who has just recovered from the mumps, was at the affair. I danced afterwards with the extravagant Pittsburgo. A. D. was terribly devoted to Madame Mona Lisa, as we call her, and I don't care if he was! I walked through the great bare galleries and tapestried rooms with the Princess Pallavicini and the Turkish Amba.s.sador, who seemed to know about my flirtation with the Cossack Prince. Somehow I felt glad to escape and go on with Aunt to Mme. Leghait's "impair"

reception where the very gayest of Roman society gathers on evenings of odd dates.

_February 14._

St. Valentine's Day! Just as I waked up, Louisa brought into my room a large basket of the loveliest flowers. Never have I received such beautiful ones or so many. With them was a note, "From your Valentine," but Louisa recognized A. D.'s man, whom he calls his faithful Gilet, bringing them. It was very kind of him, of course, but I wish he would let me alone, and send his old flowers to the gra.s.s widow.

This afternoon Aunt and I hunted all over town for philopena presents.

I had lost one to A. D. and she to Peppi. When we got home, in came Captain Carlo with his mother, who was oh, so beautiful. She went soon, long before I had enough of gazing at her, but he stayed till A.

D. dropped in to rescue us.

After dinner Aunt and I put on black dominoes and masks, Checkers, Peppi, and A. D. made themselves perfectly killing in Pierrot costumes of black and white with white caps and fat-cheeked masks, and off went the five of us to the Veglione. We had a box in the theatre, but it was much more fun to go on the floor and dance. Whom should we see but Pittsburgo and with him his Italian singer. He hadn't the remotest idea who we were. So I said all kinds of things to him, and got him all mixed up and it was the best fun! How we did laugh when I pushed him just a little and he tripped and rolled head first into the fountain. I simply loved the whole affair.

Once in a while Checkers and I go for a drive in his little two-wheeled cart with the absurd pony that looks like a broncho who has missed his growth, and when we get way out on the Campagna we burst into song:

"Pull off your walking coat, Comb back your hair, Cut loose your corset string, Take in some air; Put on your bonnet, love, Don't act a fool; See that your harness fits Same as a mule."

We almost feel we are at Black Horse Farm again at home. Between parties Sybil, Checkers, and I go sight-seeing, for Aunt says we must learn something besides deviltry.

"So you think I'm enjoying myself too much over here, Auntie," my twin remarks. "Well, when I get home I'll show you I'm not afraid of work,--I'll lie right down beside it, see if I don't. But while I'm here, I'm out for a good time."

I've seen the Prince many times lately; he is most devoted. I love his letters, he interests but he frightens me a little. My feelings are so mixed I can't write them down. When not with me, he spends much time with Peppi and Madame Mona Lisa. I often see them prowling about among the old paintings in the galleries.

PRINCE BORIS TO POLLY

_Rome, February._

Oh, Cleopatra child, present in my mind and heart is ever strange emotion I felt on meeting enigmatic girl, the first time and all times. But I have not progressed in detection of enigma, and it may be I shall die without solving it. The more I think, the dearer she becomes to me.

That night on the steamer the lady moon, how she danced on the fairy water! When talking to you in the cabin of the s.h.i.+p, I felt like a small boy, daring to do or say nothing. How stupid I have been that night, how little I profit my time while you bewitch me. I told so few things and I had so many to tell.

When you first appear in the doorway dressed like a rainbow in the sky you looked more like a fairy G.o.ddess than earth woman. Were you inhabitant of star? But what have you done in star for having fallen down amongst us humans? Or was it penance enough that you fell?

I feel strong emotion in my being. As I think of you, the music of Werther flows through my veins. All things of that first meeting rush round me. How the sea was sparkling, the sky silver, the air sweet!

JOURNAL CONTINUED

_Rome, February._

This morning I thought I never should wake up--it was twelve o'clock, but even then I felt tired. Yesterday was the last day of the carnival, the last ball for me. Marquis Gonzaga sent me the loveliest bunch of flowers, great orchids tied with a beautiful ribbon.

So much for the pleasant--now for the unpleasant. I got an anonymous letter about Captain Carlo from an Italian girl who is in love with him, saying she will kill me if I do not leave him alone. I can't imagine who she can be--I'll try to do some detective work, be a Sherlock Holmes, and find out. I think it would be fun and I'm sure I'd be good at it. Living in Rome is like being in a play, it doesn't seem real at all.

But the climax came when another epistle arrived, this time a catty note from the Mona Lisa divorcee saying she was soon to leave Rome and A. D. to me, and she hoped "little Pagan Polly would enjoy herself."

Checkers and I went off for a long drive through the Campagna. It was good to get out into the country, away from all trouble. I wonder what on earth will happen next?

What did happen was that the divorcee followed up her note by a call.

Louisa announced her just as I returned, and I heard Checkers greeting her in the next room--"Good afternoon! Glad of your hand. Hope you feel as good as new money."

She laughed a little, but for all that, he hadn't put her in a pleasant frame of mind. When I went in to see her, I looked a little surprised and asked her what I could do for her.

"You can let my friend alone," she said.

"I do not know whom you mean," I retorted.

"Oh yes you do! You can't play innocence with me with your big blue eyes and your nursery airs."

That made me angry and I told her to be civil to me or she might be ushered out. She fired up then, though she had tried to keep hold of herself at first, and pointed to A. D.'s picture, asking sarcastically if he had given it to me, and if she was to congratulate me on my conquest. I saw she was afraid I was really engaged to him and was trying to find out and I determined she should not.

So I hung my head and pretended to be dreadfully shy, and murmured she might congratulate me if she wished to. Then I was sorry, for she turned very white and then red.

"I don't believe a word of it!" she choked, "and this is all the congratulation you'll get out of me!" She s.n.a.t.c.hed his photograph off the table and threw it into the fireplace, and as I did not know what else to do, I rang for Louisa to show her the door, but before the maid could come, Mona Lisa swept out, muttering to herself, "I'll get even with you yet." That is the last glimpse I shall get of her, I hope.

I went and told Aunt. The American Amba.s.sador came to call in the late afternoon and they were both closeted for about an hour. When I asked her what they talked about, she said about A. D. and Mona, but she wouldn't tell me anything else. But I know that divorcee is trying to make some mischief. Well, she may if she wants to. I don't care. If A.

D. likes that kind of woman, he may have her.

Pittsburgo and Captain Carlo came for luncheon, and then later in came the Prince for tea. Aunt insists on leaving us together every chance she gets. But he is a trifle too impa.s.sioned, even for me. When he left today, he said, "Why is it you are unkind? You say me not sweet things, I who would kiss your feet. Naughty one, you are cold as March to me when I want you to be like the month of May." And that's the way he's always going on.

After Marquis Gonzaga's dinner, the other evening, I left while the others were still dancing. Carlo was watching mournfully from the balcony above and ran down to put me in my carriage, but round-eyed Pittsburgo caught up with him, much to his disgust, so he did not have the farewells to himself, and Louisa and I set off for home.

But when we reached the Palazzo, what do you suppose? There was Carlo to open the door! He had gotten into another carriage and raced ahead of us. He begged for the violets that I was wearing. I wouldn't give them then, but when I reached the upper landing, just out of deviltry, I threw them out of the window to him. It's a funny game, but this isn't the first time I've played it, nor the first time he has either, for that matter. I wonder if I'll get knifed by his Italian girl. I'll risk it, for it's all such fun.

The dinner had been awfully uninteresting, and I had to have a little bit of amus.e.m.e.nt. A. D. was to sit on one side of me but he never came. I suppose he was with Mona Lisa. Also I spilt coffee over my new dress and got rather cross. I didn't sleep a wink all night.

In the meanwhile I hadn't forgotten about the anonymous letter warning me to let Carlo alone, so one afternoon I showed the note to Boris who was here calling and suggested that we do a little detective work together. His eyes glittered and I told him he could be Doctor Watson, but I should be Sherlock. As we sallied forth for a walk to talk it over, we saw a pretty contadina sauntering up and down the street outside the palazzo, and just on impulse, I said, "What do you make of that, Watson?" She happened to glance up, and if ever there was a look of hatred on a human face, she had it.

"I have seen her before," remarked my companion.

"You have?" I gasped.