Polly the Pagan: Her Lost Love LettersAnderson, Isabel
General
Polly the Pagan: Her Lost Love Letters
Anderson, Isabel
Americans -- Europe -- Fiction; Diary fiction; Epistolary fiction; Love stories; Young women -- Fiction
After dinner Aunt and I put on black dominoes and masks, Checkers,
Peppi, and A. D. made themselves perfectly killing in Pierrot costumes
of black and white with white caps and fat-cheeked masks, and off went
the five of us to the Veglione. We had a box in the theatre, but it
was much more fun to go on the floor and dance. Whom should we see but
Pittsburgo and with him his Italian singer. He hadn’t the remotest
idea who we were. So I said all kinds of things to him, and got him
all mixed up and it was the best fun! How we did laugh when I pushed
him just a little and he tripped and rolled head first into the
fountain. I simply loved the whole affair.
Once in a while Checkers and I go for a drive in his little
two-wheeled cart with the absurd pony that looks like a broncho who
has missed his growth, and when we get way out on the Campagna we
burst into song:
“Pull off your walking coat,
Comb back your hair,
Cut loose your corset string,
Take in some air;
Put on your bonnet, love,
Don’t act a fool;
See that your harness fits
Same as a mule.”
We almost feel we are at Black Horse Farm again at home. Between
parties Sybil, Checkers, and I go sight-seeing, for Aunt says we must
learn something besides deviltry.
“So you think I’m enjoying myself too much over here, Auntie,” my twin
remarks. “Well, when I get home I’ll show you I’m not afraid of
work,--I’ll lie right down beside it, see if I don’t. But while I’m
here, I’m out for a good time.”
I’ve seen the Prince many times lately; he is most devoted. I love his
letters, he interests but he frightens me a little. My feelings are
so mixed I can’t write them down. When not with me, he spends much
time with Peppi and Madame Mona Lisa. I often see them prowling about
among the old paintings in the galleries.
* * * * *
PRINCE BORIS TO POLLY
_Rome,
February._
Oh, Cleopatra child, present in my mind and heart is ever strange
emotion I felt on meeting enigmatic girl, the first time and all
times. But I have not progressed in detection of enigma, and it may be
I shall die without solving it. The more I think, the dearer she
becomes to me.
That night on the steamer the lady moon, how she danced on the fairy
water! When talking to you in the cabin of the ship, I felt like a
small boy, daring to do or say nothing. How stupid I have been that
night, how little I profit my time while you bewitch me. I told so few
things and I had so many to tell.
When you first appear in the doorway dressed like a rainbow in the sky
you looked more like a fairy goddess than earth woman. Were you
inhabitant of star? But what have you done in star for having fallen
down amongst us humans? Or was it penance enough that you fell?
I feel strong emotion in my being. As I think of you, the music of
Werther flows through my veins. All things of that first meeting rush
round me. How the sea was sparkling, the sky silver, the air sweet!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account