The costumes of these footmen, indeed, were so splendid, that many people were sure they must be original ancient liveries of the Bonaparte family, and ought to be in glass cases in a museum. Perhaps this was true; but it is nevertheless a fact that the liveries were much more effective and much more clearly remembered on the shoulders of footmen than they would have been had they been hidden in a museum. The guests, on arrival, felt that they had left their humdrum daily existence outside the door, and that they had entered the enchanted realms of fairyland. Like children who expect a Christmas-tree and surprises, they crossed the hall, with its wonderful arm-chairs of velvet and cloth of gold, and its enormous sofa, covered with fur rugs and decorated with masks from Greek tragedy. Then up the staircase, over the balustrade of which were thrown priceless brocades of all shades and colours, the walls being hung with Chinese embroideries and fans of peacock-feathers. Upstairs, the elegant drawing-rooms, with their pink curtains and gilt furniture, were wonderful and interesting museums of Napoleonic souvenirs. Count Primoli honoured the memory of his famous great-uncle, Napoleon I., and carefully preserved all Napoleonic relics. There were masks and miniatures of the great Emperor, and other ancient family treasures, jewelled combs, fans, lace, snuff-boxes, letters, seals, and silhouettes. In a prominent place stood a large glass case, brilliantly illuminated, containing two dresses: one of green velvet, embroidered with gold, from the wardrobe of the Empress Josephine, and the other of lace over a pink foundation, the priceless robe of Marie Louise. At the side lay fans and satin slippers, to match the dresses. On the walls of the room were shelves, and on them signed photographs of the present-day members of the Bonaparte family. Another remarkable and charming peculiarity of the villa was the wealth of flowers with which it was always decorated. Magnificent azaleas of all shades stood about everywhere, garlands of lilac were suspended from one chandelier to the other, and other garlands of hyacinths, roses, and violets, surrounded the glass cases, wound themselves round the shelves, and framed the looking-glasses. “Quella fantasmorgia dei fiore!” laughed Roman Princesses and Countesses, as they entered. It is strange that Roman women, who are surrounded by flowers that grow in the open air all the year round, do not really care for them, and only decorate their rooms with them because it is the fashion, and because it pleases foreigners. Count Primoli, however, was a great lover of flowers, and so completely filled his villa with them that one grew faint with the sweetness of their overpowering fragrance. The air, indeed, was full of something romantic and reminiscent—one thought of old Italy and the Renaissance.