I have the sun all day, and an excellent
chimney. It is very high and has pure air, and the most beautiful view
all around imaginable. Add, that I am with the dearest, delightful
old couple one can imagine, quick, prompt, and kind, sensible and
contented. Having no children, they like to regard me and the Prussian
sculptor, my neighbor, as such; yet are too delicate and too busy ever
to intrude. In the attic, dwells a priest, who insists on making
my fire when Antonia is away. To be sure, he pays himself for his
trouble, by asking a great many questions. The stories below are
occupied by a frightful Russian princess with moustaches, and a
footman who ties her bonnet for her; and a fat English lady, with a
fine carriage, who gives all her money to the church, and has made for
the house a terrace of flowers that would delight you. Antonia has
her flowers in a humble balcony, her birds, and an immense black
cat; always addressed by both husband and wife as "Amoretto," (little
love!)
The house looks out on the Piazza Barberini, and I see both that
palace and the Pope's. The scene to-day has been one of terrible
interest. The poor, weak Pope has fallen more and more under the
dominion of the cardinals, till at last all truth was hidden from his
eyes.
Pages:
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332