Hurrah! I have won the hat from Checkers. When the Prince came to say goodbye, he proposed. “Some speed to that boy,” says Brother. Of course I refused him. Oh, if Aunt knew, she would be madder than a wet hen. But Boris swears he won’t take no for an answer, “You mock me like wicked Pagan girl that you are. But I love Pagans. I meet you in Paris before you sail for America.” We are leaving Rome tomorrow. A. D. and I had a long talk on the terrace and just a wee bit of nonsense. He wants to spend next Sunday with us at Sorrento. I told him to come along. Thank Heaven the divorcée has left Rome at last. Carlo also asked to be allowed to come to Sorrento, but I don’t want him to, and so there’s an end to that. He can have his Italian girl. I wonder if Peppi will turn up, for Aunt’s portrait is finished and she likes it. It ought to be good after those long sittings. It has amused me to lead these foreigners all on, but it is dangerous to play with fire. Gonzaga remarked today, “My mother says me marry my cousin, a Spanish countess, but you, Miss Polly, you hear from me again.” As to foreigners in general and Prince Boris in particular, they certainly know how to flirt, but I wouldn’t trust them around the corner. They like to tell naughty stories and pretend they’re dead in love. So the Roman season is over; the fun and the beaux and the parties and the drives on the Campagna are things of the past, things for me to remember when I’m old and gray. I’ve had a glorious time here and I’m sorry it’s ended, but Aunt says we must travel again, and I must study. The happy days for Checkers and me are over. I wonder if I will experience some day “_une grande passion_” as they call it over here and marry. Who knows? I am not sure that I shall have much time to keep a journal after this for it seems as if I’d promised to write to half the men in Rome. _PART II_ _COURT AND COURTING_ A. D. TO POLLY _Rome, March._ My Easter greetings to you, dear Polly; I hope they may come in time. I have been desolate since you left Rome, and am looking forward eagerly to seeing you next Sunday at Sorrento. As I passed your Palazzo, I glanced up and saw the flowers nodding their heads above the walls of your terrace, and I met the Prince wandering about outside, appearing decidedly forlorn, poor devil. I fear you treated him badly. I felt more than a little forlorn myself thinking of you so many miles away. I went up with a picnic party among the Alban mountains today, first to Frascati, then, after déjeuner, we climbed to the ancient city of Tusculum, and the view was glorious. Way, way off lay Rome and the great dome of St. Peter’s, and near it, I knew, was your Palazzo. * * * * * POLLY TO A. D. _Sorrento, March._