I went yesterday to the Piazza del Quirinale to see the royal processions come out of the palace and had a fine coign of vantage. The fanfare blew and the soldiers presented arms, the cortège issued out beneath the gate and slowly moved across the square and round the corner out of sight. It was the day when the new Parliament was to be inaugurated and the King and Queen were to go in state to open the session, and the Ambassadors and Ministers had to attend in uniform. There were outriders and cuirassiers and great gilded carriages of state with lacqueys hanging on behind, and they made a fine show. The music was gay and joyous, and the sun was shining brightly, but within an hour it was raining in torrents and the return procession was through a downpour. But by that time I had sought the protection which the Embassy grants and was hard at work. An American Admiral has come to Rome for a few days, leaving his flagship at Naples. He wishes to be presented to the King and Queen and so among other things I am busy about that. Last evening I went over to see him and took him and his flag lieutenant, with whom I at once struck up a great friendship, to Count L.’s reception in his palace which lies low beneath the embankment of the river. Through the courtyard we went, and up the stairway, into the suffocating rooms, with little knicknacks about by the dozen, all in a mad confusion. I tried to make the officers enjoy themselves and introduced them to some girls. When it became too stiflingly crowded, I steered them away, added dear old Rossi with his genial smile to the party, and we went to a birreria in the Capo le Casé and had some wiener wursts and beer; while we were there the Prince came in and the German Counsellor of Embassy, and we all sat together some time. Then through the moonlit streets we drove home. * * * * * A. D. TO POLLY _Rome, July._ What, mademoiselle, do you think was one of the things which happened after my return here from Venice? The Prince dropped in to see me, and running after him came a messenger who handed him a letter--a letter from you, my lady!--and I can tell you that although I was happy to see your handwriting, it made me jump a bit and feel queer to think it was from you and to him, and not to me. I had to sit tight for a little while and say nothing. But later came the missive I had looked for, the letter for _me_, dear Pollykins, and I can tell you I read it eagerly and tried to make it longer by going over it again. But no matter how many times I read it, it is too short. Your letters will never be long enough, though they be miles in length!