At this season all the fair gentlewomen of Rome let themselves be seen freely, for in Italy they do not go masked as in France, but with all the face uncovered. As to anything like rare and perfect beauty, M. de Montaigne declared it was no more to be found here than in France; and that, except in three or four cases, he found none that was remarkable. But taken as a whole the women’s faces are more agreeable, and fewer ugly ones are to be seen than in France. The head is far more becomingly dressed than with us, and the parts below the girdle also, but the French ladies have more care to the figure, for here the girdle is worn too loose, somewhat as our ladies who are with child wear it. Their countenances are stately, gentle, and sweet. In raiment they are incomparably more sumptuous than our ladies, everything being covered with pearls and jewels. Whenever they go abroad, whether in a coach or to a festivity or to the theatre, they keep apart from men: nevertheless in certain dances they mix freely enough, and find full opportunity of conversing and touching hands. The men on all occasions go clad very simply in black or Florentine serge, and are somewhat darker in skin than we are. I cannot say why they do not use their titles of duke, count, and marquis, when they have full right thereto, seeing that their appearance is somewhat ordinary. Otherwise they are most courteous, and as gracious as they can be, in spite of what is asserted by the baser sort of Frenchmen, who never find any gentility in those who resent their turbulence and insolent carriage. In every way we do our utmost to win a bad name, nevertheless the Italians nurse their ancient affection and reverence for France, which secures respect and welcome for all who deserve the same ever so little, and bear themselves without offence.