I suppose there must be a strong touch of indolence in all the Latin races. It was after six when we got back to Rome. We had just time to rush home, get clean gloves and long skirts, and start for the Massimo Palace to see the great fête. Once a year the palace is opened to the general public, and the whole of Rome goes upstairs and into the chapel. It is on St. Philippe's day, when a miracle was performed in the Massimo family, a dead boy resuscitated in 1651. There was a crowd assembled as we drove up, tramways stopped, and the getting across the pavement was rather difficult. The walls of the palace and portico were hung with red and gold draperies, the porter and footman in gala liveries, the old beggars squatted about inside the portico, the gardes municipaux keeping order, and a motley crowd struggling up the grand staircase--priests, women, children, femmes du monde, peasants, policemen, forestieri, two cooks in their white vestons, nuns, Cappucini--all striving and jostling to get along. We stopped at Bebella's apartment, who gave us tea. She had been receiving all day, but almost every one had gone. We talked to her a few moments, and then d'Arsoli took us upstairs to the chapel (by no means an easy performance, as there were two currents going up and coming down). The chapel was brilliantly lighted, and crowded; a benedizione was going on, with very good music from the Pope's chapel--those curious, high, unnatural voices. All the relics were exposed, and Prince Massimo, in dress clothes and white cravat, was standing at the door. It was a most curious sight. D'Arsoli told us that people had begun to come at seven in the morning. When we went home there was still a crowd on the staircase, stretching out into the street, and a long line of tram-cars stopped. Friday, March 18th. It rained rather hard this morning, but we three got ourselves into the small carriage and went down to the Accademia di Santa Cecilia to hear the Benedictine monk Don Guery try the Gregorian chants with the big organ. The organ is a fine one, made at Nuremberg. An organist arrived from St. Anselmo to accompany the chants. They sounded very fine, but I thought rather too melodious and even modern, but Don Guery assured me that the one I particularly noticed was of the eleventh century. Tuesday, 22d.