In came the blond head, and the blue dressing-gown vanished from the eyes of the handsome soldier who had been attitudinizing with his high boots, gray and scarlet cloak, jingling sword, and becoming _barrette_ cap, for the especial benefit of the enraptured stranger. 'Livy, it is just superb! Get up and come out at once. It is clouding up, and I must have one look or lose my mind,' said Matilda, flying about with unusual energy. 'You will have to get used to rain if you stay here long, my child,' returned the Raven. And she was right. It poured steadily for two months, with occasional flurries of snow, also thunder, likewise hurricanes, the tramontana, the sirocco, and all the other charming features of an Italian winter. That nothing might be wanting, a nice little inundation 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.