ddenly, his wife followed. And then my kind and loving
father went the way. I was very, very lonely. But I was taken under the
wing of a duchessa who was popular at court. At this period the young
prince was one of the handsomest men in Europe. Foolish women set about
to turn his head. He was brave, clever and engaging. Dissipation had not
yet enmeshed him. My heart fluttered naturally when I saw him, for he
was permitted to see me at intervals. Young girls have dreams which in
older years appear ordinary enough. He was then to me Prince Charming. I
was really glad that I was to marry him.

On completing my education I decided to live in Rome, where the prince
was quartered. I went into the world with serene confidence, believing
that all men were good like my father and his friend. The old duchessa
mothered the rich American girl gladly; for, though I was half Italian,
they always considered me as the child of my father. I was presented at
court, I was asked to dinners and receptions and balls. I was quite the
rage because the dowager queen gave me singular attention. My head was
in a whirl. In Europe, as you know, till a woman is married she is a
nonentity. I was beginning to live. The older women were so attentive
and the men so gallant that I lost sight of the things that counted. As
I was a fluent linguist, and as I possessed a natural lightness of
heart, my popularity was by no means due to my property. I believe I
sang wherever I went, because I loved music, because it was beautiful to
send one's voice across space in confidence; it was like liberating the
soul for a moment.

The prince by this time seemed changed in some way; but I was blindly
young. A girl of twenty in European society knows less than a girl of
fifteen in the States. Often I noticed the long scar on his cheek. He
had received it, he said, in some cavalry exercise. As the Italians are
reckless horsemen, I accepted this explanation without question. I know
differently now! But he was as courteous and gallant to me as ever.

Now, there was another clause in this will. It was the one thing which
made the present life tolerable and possible to me. We were to be
married without pomp, quietly, first at the magistrate's and then at the
church.

Have you not often seen the carriage pass you in the streets? The bride
in her white dress and veil and the bouquet of roses? The ribbon round
the driver's whip? The good-natured smiles of the idlers, the chi