The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-03-01

1t was very kind of him; but, oh. how / wished
he hadn't! When got back, Piero was playing
billiards with his servant. l wondered what
Mr.. Coate would have thought of him. To be
sure English clergymen have to get used to fast
Sundays now when the country. houses are full
1t is such dear little yew walk to the church
from the house here. not twenty yards long. and
all lined with fuchsia DO you remember itf
Even Piero admits that it is very pretty, only he
says it is vignette prettiness, which. l sup
pose, is true. You can see horizon, only
green wall he keeps complaining; and his
beautiful lustrous eyes look as if they were
made to gaze through endless fields of light
When asked him yesterday what he really
thought OF England what do you suppose he
saidi He said Mia cara, I think it would
be most delightful country if it had
one NTH OF its population, one-half
or Its houses, 1.-THE of its dinners. a
quarter of its machinery, none of its factories,
and wholly different atmospheric / suppose
this means that he dislikes ita think him hand
somer than ever. sent you his photograph
but that can give you idea of him. He IS like
one of his own marble statues. We came to
Coombe Bysset directly after the ceremony and
we are here still. could stay on for ever. It's
so lovely in these Wiltshire woods in mid June
But am afraid-just the very least bit afraid
that Plero may get bored with me-me-me-
nothing but me. He is an angel We ride in
the morning. we sing and play in the evening
We adore each other all the twentv-four hours
through. | wonder however l could have lived
about his great marble palaces, and his immense
dream-hke villas, and his gardens with their
multitude of statues, and the wonderful light
that is over it all. He protests it is always twi-
light with us in England. 1t seems so absurd,
when.now adays everybody knows everything
about everywhere, that 1 should never
have been to Italy. But were such
country mice down at dear, DID, dull, green,
muddy Dtchworth. Lanciano, the biggest of all
their big places, must be like poem. 1t Is
great house all of different colored marbles, set
amidst lex groves on the mountain side, with
cascades like TERM, and gardens that were
planned by Glulio Romano, and temples that
were there in the days of Horace long to see
it all, and yet hope he will not want to leave
Coombe yet. There is no place like the place
where one is first happy. And somehow, | fancy
look better in these homely, low rooms Of Aunt
Carries with their Chppendale furniture and
those enormous palaces, which want a Semira-
mis.or Cleopatra. They were kind enough to
make q fuss about me in London, but I never
thought much of myself, ana [ am afraid must
himself, and has all kinds of talents. You
know. L never was clever, and really
really haven't an idea what to
talk to him about when we don't talk
about ourselves. And then the weather pro-
vokcs him. We have hardly had one fine day
since we came; and no doubt it seems very grey
and chilly to an Italian 1t cannot be Junep he
says dozen times week And when the whole
day is rainy, as it is very often, for Junes
are such wet Cnes now a-days can see he gets
impatient He doesn't care for reading; he is
fond OF billiards, but don't play good enough
game to be any amusement to him. And though
he sings divinely, as told you, he sings as the
birds do-just when the mood is on him. He
does not care about music science in the
least He laughed when / said So he declared
1T was no more science than love is. Perhaps
love ought to be a science too, in way. or else
1T won't last. There has been a scandal in the
ilnV I'D hr-h
furiated father came up to the house this morn
ing aboutit He is named John Best; he has
one of Aunt Carries biggest farms He was in
such dreadful rage, and had to talk to him,
because. of course Piero couldn't under
stand him. Only when l translated what
he said. Piero laughed till he cried, and offered
him a cigarette and called him 'iiglio MO-
which only made Mr. John Best purple with
fury, and he went away in a greater rage than
he had been in when he came, swearing he
would do for the Papist.' 1 have sent for the
steward. l am afraid Aunt Carrie will be ter
rlhly Annoyed. 1t has always been such a model
village. Not public house near for six miles;
and all the girls such demure quiet little
maidens The terrible Roman valet, with his
starry eyes and his mandoline and his audacities
has been like Mephistopheles in the opera to
this secluded and innocent little hamlet. beg
Piero to send him away: but he looks unutter.
ably reproachfuL and declares he really cannot
live without Toniello and what can l sayg'
From the Lady Gwendoen Chichester. St. Petersburg
to the Princess di San Zenone, Coombe Bysset.
You quite in the wrong, my poor pet IF
you were only little older and ever so much
wiser, you would have teegraphed to the libra
ries yourself for the French books; you would
have laughed at them when he laughed: and in
stead OF taking Mr. John Best as tragedy you
would have made him into little buresque,
which would have amused your husband for
five minutes us much as Gyp, or Jean Richepin
| begin to think / should have married your
Roman prince, and you should have married my
good. dull George, whom q perverse DESTINY has
showed into diplomacy Your Roman scandal
ICES you. and my George bores me. Such is
marriage my dear. all the world over What
is the old story? That Jove broke all the wal
nuts, and each half is always uselessly seeking
its fellow"
From the Princess di San Zenone, Coombe Bysset
Beds, to the Lady Gwendoen Chichester British
Embassy, st. Petersburg.
"But surely if he loved me he would be as
perfectly happy with me alone as l am with him
alone; want no other companion--no other in
terest-no other thought"
From the Lady Gwendolen Chichester British En-.
bassy St Petersburg to the Princess di San Zenone
Coombe Bysset, Beds.
''Of course you do not, because you are a
woman San Zenone is your god your idol
your ideal. your universe. But you are only one
out OF the many women who have pleased him:
and attached to the pleasure you afford him is
the very uncomfortable conviction that he will
never be able to get away from you. My dear
child, have no patience with any woman when
she says he does not love me- If he do not il is
probably the woman's fault Probably she has
worried him. Love dies directly it is worried
quite naturally. Poor Gladys! You were
always such good child you were always de-
voted to your old women, and your queer little
orphans, and your pet crippes, and your East
End missions 1t certainly is hard that you
should have fallen into the hands of a soulless
Italian, who reads naughty novels all day long
and signs for the f1eshpots of Egypt! But, my
child, in reasons name what did you expect?
Did you think that ali in a moment he would
sigh to hear Canon Farrar or Dean Liddell: take
his guitar to concert i'll Seven Dials and teach
Italian to Bethnal Green babiesl Be reason
able, and let your poor Gagged bird fly out of
Coombe Bysset; which will certainly DO your
worst enemy if you shut him up in it much
longer"