Baths of Caracalla--paltry indeed afterthose left by Rameses in Egypt--and the churches of Santi Nereo edAchilleo and San Cesareo, afterwards re-entering the city and speedingup the broad modern Via Nazionale and into the long, straight Via VentiSettembre, at last pulling up before the great grey facade of theBritish Embassy.
Hubert Waldron was no stranger to Rome. For five years he had lived atthe Embassy when his father was Ambassador, and in those days had beenvery popular in the very exclusive Society of the Italian capital.Nowadays, however, he did not live at the Embassy, but rented the samecosy flat over a bank in the Via Nazionale which had been occupied byhis predecessor--a charming, artistic little place which was the veryideal of a bachelor _pied-a-terre_.
That day there was a smart luncheon-party at the Embassy; among theguests being the Austrian and Russian Ambassadors with their wives,Prince Ghika, of the Roumanian Legation, the stout and wealthy Duca diCarpenito, the old Marchesa Genazzano, a hideous guy with her protrudingyellow teeth, yet one of the leaders of Roman Society, the youngMarchese Montalcino, who wore upturned moustachios and yellow boots; thepretty Contessa Stella Pizzoli, one of the Queen's _dames de la Cour_,and half a dozen others whose names in the Italian capital were ashousehold words.
Around the luncheon-table, charmingly arranged with delicate floraldecorations, the chatter had been universal, Sir Francis Cathcart,K.C.M.G., the British Ambassador, holding a long and animatedconversation with Princess Bezanoff, wife of "The Russian"--as theTzar's representative was termed in the diplomatic circle--while LadyCathcart had been gossiping with the Duca di Carpenito, who was perhapsthe greatest landowner in all Italy, and whose ancient Palazzo in theCorso is pointed out to the traveller as one of the finest mediaevalresidences in the city.
Waldron, who had taken in the Contessa Stella and sat at her side, waslistening to her gossip about the Court, of the doings of the Queen, andof their recent stay at Racconigi. Though most of the conversation attable was in French they spoke in Italian, Hubert speaking that languagewith scarce a trace of foreign accent.
"Curiously enough, Signor Waldron, I first knew of you by hearing HisMajesty speak of you," remarked the pretty young woman. "I heard himtelling General Olivieri, the first aide-de-camp, that you had beenattached to the Embassy here."
"It is a great honour that His Majesty should remember me," replied thesecretary. "He knew me, however, years ago, before he succeeded. I washere with my father, who was Ambassador."
"Yes. The King said so, and he paid your father a very high compliment.He said that he was the only diplomat whom his father, the late KingVictor, ever trusted with a secret."
Waldron smiled. Then he said:
"His Majesty is exceedingly gracious to me. I had not been back here aweek before I had a command to private audience, and he was kind enoughto say that he was pleased to resume my acquaintance after my years ofabsence from Rome. Yes, Contessa," he added, "here I feel that I am athome and among friends, for I love Italy and her people. Your countrypossesses a grace and charm which one does not find elsewhere in Europe.There is but one Italy as there is but one Rome in all the world."
"I fear you flatter us rather too much, Signor Waldron," replied thepretty young woman. "Now that you have come back to us I hope you willhonour my husband with a visit. You know the Palazzo Pizzoli, no doubt,and I hope in the autumn you will come out to us in the Romagna. We cangive you a little shooting, I believe. You Englishmen always love that,I know," she laughed.
"I'm sure I shall be very charmed to make the acquaintance of theCount," he replied. "And if I may be permitted to call upon you I shallesteem it a great honour, Contessa," and he smiled at the elegant _damede la Cour_ with his best diplomatic smile.
"So the young Princess Luisa is in disgrace again, I hear," remarked theold Marchesa Genazzano, who sat on Waldron's other hand, showing heryellow teeth as she spoke. "She's always in some scrape or other.Girls in my day were never allowed the liberty she has--and she a RoyalHighness, too!"
"We mustn't tell tales out of school," remarked the pretty Countess,with a comical grimace. "Her Royal Highness is, I fear, a sad tomboy.She always was--ever since she left the schoolroom."
The old Marchesa, a woman of the bluest blood of Italy, and bosom friendof Her Majesty the Queen, grunted.
"Like her mother--like the whole House of Savoy. Always venturesome,"she said.
"But the Princess is charming. Surely you will agree, Marchesa?"protested the _dame de la Cour_.
"A very delightful girl. But she's been spoilt. Her mother was toolenient with her, and her goings-on are becoming a public scandal."
"Hardly that, I think," remarked the Countess. "I know the King ispretty annoyed very often, yet he hasn't the heart to put his foot downfirmly. Even though she is of royal blood she's very human, after all."
"Her flirtations are positively disgraceful," declared the old Marchesa,a woman of the ancient regime of exclusiveness.
Hubert laughed and said:
"I have not the pleasure of knowing Her Royal Highness--perhaps HerRoyal Naughtiness might describe her--but as one who has no knowledge ofthe circumstances, I might be permitted to remark that the love thatbeats in the heart of a princess is the same love as that beneath thecotton corsets of the _femme de chambre_."
"Ah, you diplomats are incorrigible," cried the old woman with theyellow teeth. "But the Princess Luisa is becoming a scandal. The Queendeclared to me only yesterday that she was intensely annoyed at herniece's behaviour. Her latest escapade, it seems, has been to go toBologna and take part in some motor-cycle races, riding astride like aman, and calling herself Signorina Merli. And she actually won one ofthe races. She carried a passenger in a side-car, a young clerk in abank there, who, of course, was quite unaware of her real identity."
"Quite sporting," declared Waldron. "She evidently does not believemuch in the royal exclusiveness."
"Well, she cannot pretend that life at the Quirinale is at all dull.Since the death of her charming mother, the Princess of Milan, she haslived at the Palace, and must have had a very pleasant time."
"Is she pretty?" asked Waldron, interested.
"Very--and most accomplished," replied the old stiff-backed Marchesawhose word was law in social Rome. "The House of Savoy is notdistinguished by its good looks on the female side, but the PrincessLuisa is an exception. Personally, I consider her the best-lookingamong the marriageable royalties in Europe at the present moment."
"But are her indiscretions really so very dreadful?" asked the diplomat,"or are they exaggerated?"
"Dreadful!" echoed the noble Montalcino, whose elegant attire andcarefully trained moustache were so well-known during the hour of the_passeggiate_ in the Corso. He had been listening to the conversation."Why, _cara mio_," he drawled, "only the other night I saw her with hermaid sitting in the stalls at the Salone Margherita, which is, as youknow, hardly the place to which a Royal Highness should go. _Madonnamia_! There are lots of stories about Rome of her escapades," declaredthe young sprig of the nobility. "It is said she often escapes from thePalace at night and goes long runs in her car, driving it herself.Bindo Peruzzi found her early one morning broken down away out atCastelnuovo, and gave her a lift back in his car. She got out at thePorta Pia and Bindo pretended not to know who she was. I suppose shesent her chauffeur back for the car later on."
"Rather a daring escapade for a Royal Highness," Waldron said. "But,after all, Court life, Court etiquette, and Court exclusiveness mustbore a girl to death, if in her youth she has been used to Society, as Isuppose she had been during her mother's lifetime."
"Oh, of course one may easily make lots of excuses," shuffled the oldMarchesa. "But I feel sure the girl must be a source of great anxietyto both Their Majesties. It would be a great relief to them if she wereto marry."
"They say she is a favourite with the King, and that he never reprovesher," exclaimed the young fellow across the table.
"Well," declared Hubert, "in
any case she must be a merry, go-aheadlittle person. I shall look forward to meeting her."
"Oh, no doubt you will, signore, very soon," laughed the old leader ofSociety, when just at that moment the Ambassador's wife gave the signalto rise, and the ladies passed out, the men bowing as they filed fromthe room.
A quarter of an hour later when the male guests joined the ladies in thebig, handsome drawing-room overlooking the garden of the Embassy, theMarchesa beckoned Hubert over to where she was ensconced in a corner.
"Signor Waldron," she said, "I find that Lady Cathcart has a portrait ofPrincess Luisa, the young lady