was got up for their
benefit, December 28th.

Sitting peacefully at breakfast on the morning of that day, in their
cosey apartment, with a fire of cones and olive-wood cheerily burning on
the hearth, Jokerella, the big cat, purring on the rug, the little
coffee-pot proudly perched among bread and butter, eggs and fruit, while
the ladies, in dressing-gowns and slippers, lounged luxuriously in
arm-chairs, one red, one blue, one yellow; they (the ladies, not the
chairs) were started by Agrippina, the maid, who burst into the room
like a bomb-shell, announcing, all in one breath, that the Tiber had
risen, inundated the whole city, and instant death was to be the doom of
all.

Rushing to the window to see if the flood had quite covered the steps,
and cut off all retreat, the friends were comforted to observe no signs
of water, except that half-frozen in the basin of the fountain above
which leaned their favourite old Triton, with an icicle on the end of
his nose.

'I must go and attend to this. The poor will suffer; we may be able to
help,' said Livy, forgetting her bones, and beginning to scramble on her
fur boots as if the safety of the city depended on her.

The others followed suit, and leaving Jokerella to ravage the table,
they hurried forth to see what Father Tiber was up to. A most
reprehensible prank, apparently, for the lower parts of the city were
under water, and many of the great streets already as full of boats as
Venice.

The Corso was a deep and rapid stream, and the shopkeepers were
disconsolately paddling about, trying to rescue their property.

'Our dresses, our beautiful new dresses, where are they now!' wailed
the girls, surveying Mazzoni's grand store, with water up to the
balcony, where many milliners wrung their hands, lamenting.

The Piazza del Popolo was a lake, with the four stone lions just
visible, and still spouting water, though it was a drug in the market.
In at the open gate rolled a muddy stream, bearing hay-stacks,
brushwood, and drowned animals along the Corso. People stood on their
balconies wondering what they should do, many breakfastless; for how
could the _trattoria_ boys safely waft their coffee-pots across such
canals of water? Carriages splashed about in shallower parts with
agitated loads, hurrying to drier quarters; many were coming down
ladders into boats, and crowds stood waiting their turn with bundles of
valuables in their hands.

The soldiers were out in full for