n price, which was little enough,--not a
third of what I had given.

The roads were good, and the long and the short of the matter, without
any more details, is that we reached Rome very early the next
morning, having caught the night train from Naples. Hedwig slept most
of the time in the carriage and all the time in the train, while Nino,
who never seemed to tire or to need sleep, sat watching her with wide,
happy eyes. But perhaps he slept a little too, for I did, and I cannot
answer for his wakefulness through every minute of the night.

Once I asked him what he intended to do in Rome.

"We will go to the hotel Costanzi," he answered, which is a
foreigners' resort. And if she is rested enough we will come down to
you, and see what we can do about being married properly in church by
the old curato."

"The marriage by the sindaco is perfectly legal," I remarked.

"It is a legal contract, but it is not a marriage that pleases me," he
said, gravely.

"But, caro mio, without offence, your bride is a Protestant, a
Lutheran; not to mince matters, a heretic. They will make objections."

"She is an angel," said Nino, with great conviction.

"But the angels neither marry nor are given in marriage," I objected,
arguing the point to pass the time.

"What do you make of it, then, Messer Cornelio?" he asked, with a
smile.

"Why, as a heretic she ought to burn, and as an angel she ought not to
marry."

"It is better to marry than to burn," retorted Nino, triumphantly.

"Diavolo! Have you had St. Paul for a tutor?" I asked, for I knew the
quotation, being fond of Greek.

"I heard a preacher cite it once at the Gesu, and I thought it a good
saying."

Early in the morning we rolled into the great station of Rome, and
took an affectionate leave of each other, with the promise that Hedwig
and Nino would visit me in the course of the day. I saw them into a
carriage, with Nino's small portmanteau, and Hedwig's bundle, and then
mounted a modest omnibus that runs from the termini to St. Peter's,
and goes very near my house.

All the bells were ringing gladly, as if to welcome us, for it was
Easter morning; and though it is not so kept as it used to be, it is
nevertheless a great feast. Besides, the spring was at hand, and the
acacia-trees in the great square were budding, though everything was
still so backward in the hills. April was at hand, which the
foreigners think is our best month; but I prefer June and July, whe