We went to a pleasant tea in the afternoon at Countess Gianotti's (wife of Count Gianotti, Master of Ceremonies to the King). There were quite a number of people--a very cosmopolitan society (she herself is an American) and she gave us excellent waffles. Yesterday we had a delightful excursion with Countess de Bertheny in her automobile. She came to get me and Bessie about 11. We picked up two young men and started for Nemi and the Castelli Romani. We drove straight out from Porta San Giovanni to Albano. It was quite lovely all the way, particularly when we began the steep ascent of Albano, and looked back--the Campagna a beautiful stretch of purple, the aqueducts standing well out all around us, and the statues of San Giovanni just visible and looking enormous, in the mist that always hangs over Rome, St. Peter's a great white spot with the sun full upon it. We rattled through Albano. The streets looked animated, full of people, all getting out of our way as fast as they could. The door into the Doria Villa was open; we just had a glimpse of the garden which looked cool and green, with a perspective of long walks, ending in a sort of bosquet, but we passed so quickly that it was merely a fleeting impression. We drove through Ariccia to Gensano--a beautiful road, splendid trees, making a perfect shade, the great Chigi Palace looking just the same, a huge grim pile--quite the old château fort, built at the entrance of the little village to protect it from invading enemies. If stones could speak I wonder what they would say to modern inventions, automobiles, huge monsters certainly, but peaceful ones, rushing past, trains puffing and smoking along the Campagna, great carts drawn by fine white oxen going lazily along, the driver generally asleep under his funny little tent of red or blue linen, and nobody thinking of harm. We drove through Gensano, then turned off sharp to the left to Nemi--a fairly good road. We soon came in sight of the lake, which looked exactly as I remembered it--a lifeless blue, like a deep cup surrounded by green hills. They used to tell us, I remember, that there were no fish, no living thing in the lake, but Ruspoli says there are plenty now--very good ones. We followed a beautiful winding road up to Nemi, which is a compact little village on the top of a hill--the great castle standing out well. It has just been bought by Don Enrico Ruspoli, and he and his charming American wife are making it most picturesque and livable. We breakfasted at the little Hôtel de Nemi--not at all bad--the dining-room opening on a terrace with such a view--at our feet the Campagna rolling away its great waves of blue purple to a bright dazzling white streak, the sea--on one side a stretch of green valley leading to all the different little villages; on the other the lake with its crown of olive-covered hills.