That was the seed,--a good seed that bore fruit. By far the most important work done by America for the earthquake sufferers was the building of these houses in the devastated districts. In this enterprise our Ambassador proved worthy of his high office, of the great trust imposed upon him; from the moment the plan was decided upon, he devoted every ounce of energy to furthering it both at home and abroad. The details of his work do not properly belong to those outside the magic circle of diplomacy; his was a labor of Hercules--only the old Greek hero had seven labors, and the young American, seventy and seven. He was fortunate in having Captain Belknap to carry out the practical part of the work. It was to help Belknap that J. left his studio, the terrace where the tromboni were blowing their golden trumpets, and the bees from the priest’s hive hummed in and out the wall flowers. Patsy and I stayed in Rome, worked for our _profughi_, played with our flowers. The Andalusian carnations, sent from Spain by our friend Don Jaime, were an intense interest. It seemed at first they would die; with the first touch of the March sun, they took heart of grace and decided that life was worth while, even for an Andalusian transplanted to Rome. Ignazio’s bills had been growing heavier and heavier every month; he had not grafted the promised number of _innesti_ on the roses; there were other small grievances. In a moment of exasperation I resolved to put an end to these things. I surprised him early one morning as he was changing the earth of the big azalea; he was on his knees, patting the rich brown loam about the roots. “Ignazio,” I began firmly, “the time has come when we must part.” He shook the earth from his slim fingers, sprang to his feet, agile as a faun, and fixed me with his clear hazel eyes. “_E vero?_ This is a fount of sorrow to me! Where might your Excellency be going?” “It is not I who am going.” “_Si capisce!_ The Signora will soon join the Signore? Let her be at ease; everything will go on as if she were at home. Behold the primole the Signora has asked for these many years! They are not a garden flower, therefore it was extraordinarily difficult to obtain these wild things. With infinite labor I got them from the _guardiano_ of the Villa Caprarola, where they cover the hills like a weed.” This was my last attempt to part with Ignazio; whatever else is fleeting, he is permanent. To cover my defeat, I changed the subject and asked him what he knew of the Sicilians.