opolo, the most airy and regular
square of Rome, with its conjunction of thoroughfares, its churches and
fountains, its central obelisk, and its two clumps of trees facing one
another at either end of the small white paving-stones, betwixt the
severe and sun-gilt buildings. Then, turning to the right, the carriage
began to climb the inclined way to the Pincio--a magnificent winding
ascent, decorated with bas-reliefs, statues, and fountains--a kind of
apotheosis of marble, a commemoration of ancient Rome, rising amidst
greenery. Up above, however, Pierre found the garden small, little better
than a large square, with just the four necessary roadways to enable the
carriages to drive round and round as long as they pleased. An
uninterrupted line of busts of the great men of ancient and modern Italy
fringed these roadways. But what Pierre most admired was the trees--trees
of the most rare and varied kinds, chosen and tended with infinite care,
and nearly always evergreens, so that in winter and summer alike the spot
was adorned with lovely foliage of every imaginable shade of verdure. And
beside these trees, along the fine, breezy roadways, Dario's victoria
began to turn, following the continuous, unwearying stream of the other
carriages.

Pierre remarked one young woman of modest demeanour and attractive
simplicity who sat alone in a dark-blue victoria, drawn by a
well-groomed, elegantly harnessed horse. She was very pretty, short, with
chestnut hair, a creamy complexion, and large gentle eyes. Quietly robed
in dead-leaf silk, she wore a large hat, which alone looked somewhat
extravagant. And seeing that Dario was staring at her, the priest
inquired her name, whereat the young Prince smiled. Oh! she was nobody,
La Tonietta was the name that people gave her; she was one of the few
_demi-mondaines_ that Roman society talked of. Then, with the freeness
and frankness which his race displays in such matters, Dario added some
particulars. La Tonietta's origin was obscure; some said that she was the
daughter of an innkeeper of Tivoli, and others that of a Neapolitan
banker. At all events, she was very intelligent, had educated herself,
and knew thoroughly well how to receive and entertain people at the
little palazzo in the Via dei Mille, which had been given to her by old
Marquis Manfredi now deceased. She made no scandalous show, had but one
protector at a time, and the princesses and duchesses who paid attention
to her at the