I was much amused by an anecdote which was related to me as having happened some years before the time of which I am speaking. Prince Demidoff was very hospitable to foreigners, and an English lady having received an invitation to a _soirée_ at this villa, arrayed herself in the best ornaments contained in her jewel-box, which were not of a very costly description. It was at a time when, in England at least, malachite was very much used, not only for table ornaments, such as ink-stands and paper-weights, but also occasionally for brooches, earrings, and the like, or what then were called _sevignés_. Thus decorated, our countrywoman took her way to Prince Demidoff’s reception, but her consternation was great when, on entering the noble suite of apartments, she found that the chimney-pieces, the consoles, and the very doors themselves were constructed of the identical material which formed her _parure_. During our stay at Careggi, I had provided myself with an independent little vehicle in which I drove occasionally into Florence, to pay a visit to Félicie de Fauveau. I was invariably stopped at the gate of the city, and interrogated by a pompous official as to whether I had anything contraband to declare. “Oh dear yes,” said I one day, impatient at being delayed, “two apricots and a book,” which reply made my driver laugh aloud. My coachman was a bright young fellow who rejoiced in the classical name of Œdipus. He had been educated at a Jesuit school, and spoke his native language with great purity, and even eloquence. It is certainly remarkable to listen to the choice selection of words used by the lower classes in Tuscany. The common saying of “lingua Toscana in bocca Romana,” is strikingly true, for the guttural pronunciation of the Florentines—inherited doubtless from the Spaniards—contrasts disadvantageously with the soft, so to speak, languishing, cadence of the Roman dialect. [Sidenote: BATHS OF CASCIANO] I made a delightful little expedition in my own _carretella_ to the Baths of Casciano, near Pisa, to pay a visit of two days to Félicie de Fauveau and her mother. It was a whole day’s journey, and we halted half-way, if I remember right, at the picturesque, fortified old town, to bait our little stout Calabrian pony. I found Œdipus a delightful travelling companion, for he knew the history and the legends of the country through which we passed, and I was quite sorry to bid him good-bye, for it was settled I should return with my friends.