“I did not see the Pope. We never tried to see anybody. But I saw the Vatican—the palace where he lives, and I also saw many grand cathedrals and palaces.” Here again Susan Palmer interrupted the narrator with a number of questions that compelled Emolyn to describe the Vatican, the other palaces, cathedrals and churches at some length. “In the spring, just before Lent, we saw the carnival in Rome.” “Yes! I have heard mention made about that. It is something like a circus and a panorama and a procession, isn’t it?” inquired Susan. “Like all of them together, with a great many other spectacles, all on a tremendous scale.” “Oh, please tell me all about it,” exclaimed Susan. So Mrs. Lynn had to recall and describe all the grotesque and gorgeous phantasmagoria of the carnival at Rome before her hearer could be satisfied. “Dear, dear me, what it is to be a traveler!” said Susan. “As the month of May approached I became very nervous and filled with a horrible despair that threatened my reason. You know it was the anniversary of my great agony, Mrs. Palmer. Why, even after all these years I cannot pass it calmly. And _that_ was the first anniversary.” “I know, and I do not wonder at anything, my dear child, except that you were ever able to live over it at all.” “My guardian was very good to me; may Heaven bless him! He took me to Venice, the most beautiful and wonderful city in the world, where there are canals instead of streets and gondolas instead of carriages.” “Lord bless my soul, Miss Emolyn, how was that?” cried Susan. Emolyn explained as briefly as she could the building of Venice upon its cluster of small islands, and then continued: “We left Italy about the first of June. We spent the summer in traveling through Russia, Germany, Sweden, Norway and the Shetland and Orkney Islands. On the first of September we took a steamer from Glasgow to Constantinople——” “Constantinople!” eagerly interrupted Susan. “Constantinople! Oh, my goodness gracious me alive! That’s better than the city of the Pope, or the city built on the sea, either! It is the city of the Grand Turk! Did you see the Grand Turk? And does he always sit cross-legged on a gold-fringed rug, with a long shawl rolled around his head for a turban, and smoking a long pipe, with a golden bowl and a room full of beautiful girls dancing before him? And has he really a thousand wives?” “I don’t know. I did not see him, but I think it quite likely,” said Emolyn, with a slight smile. “Think of _that_ now! The pagan Turk to have a thousand wives, more or less, and the Pope—the poor Pope—to have not one. The laws ought to be changed! But tell me what you did see in the city of the Grand Turk. Though it do seem to me, my dear, that in all your travels you saw nothing but places and things, not people.” “I did not want to see people,” sighed Emolyn. “Ah, I know. How thoughtless I am. Go on, my dear young lady.”