The Wheat Princess

sweeping, a clatter of horses' hoofs suddenly sounded on the tiny Corso (the paving is so villainous that a single horse, however daintily it may step, sounds like a cavalcade), and runnin

sently dismounted and bidding the groom hold her horse, sat down upon a door-step and talked to them with as much friendliness as though she had

was excitedly counting it out the signorina kept talking to him about the weather and the scenery and the olive crop until he was so ov

re! And had given it all away! The blacksmith's wife, who had followed Domenico to hear the news, remarked that, for her part, she thought it a sin to spend so much for chocolate; the signorina might have given the money just as well, and they could have had meat for Sunday. But Domenico was more ready this time to con

her uncle replied, with an elaborate frown, 'I suppose you scattered soldi broadcast th

im. 'I distributed nothing more demor

on,' Mr. Copley laughed, but his inner reflections co

cle of diet in the Sabine mountains bade fair to become sweet chocolate; while Domenico, the baker, instead of being grateful for this unexpected flow of custom, complained to his friends of th

ghbourhood. And on sunny mornings, as she rode between the olive orchards and the wheat fields, more than one worker straightened his back to call a pleased 'Buona passeggiata, sign

Americani themselves. The servants of the villa, when they condescended to drink a glass of wine at the inn of the Croce d'Oro, were almost objects of veneration, because the

ley, after a few days of lounging on the balustrade, smoking countless cigarettes and hungrily reading such newspapers as drifted out on the somewhat casual mails, had his horse saddled one morning and rode to Palestrina to the station. After that he went into Rome almost every day, and the peasants in the wayside vineyards came to know him as well as his niece; but they did not take off their hats and smile as they did to her, for he rode past wit

pathetically of a bygone time with bygone ideals. She could never quite reconcile the crumbling arches, the fantastic rock-work, and the

loured cyclamen, yellow laburnum, burst from every cranny of the stones. Marcia glanced about with an air of delighted approval. A Pan with his pipes was all that was needed to make the picture complete. She dropped down on the coping of the fountain, and with her chin in

n amazement. 'Where in the

e of a sketching expedition. We get a sort of hill fever every spring, and wh

you manage

I came to the gateway, being an artist, I couldn't resist the temptation of coming in. I didn't know that it

Marcia i

e for this! May I make a little sketch, and wil

ou to make a little sketch. I shall su

a large pad from the other, and having filled his cup at the little rush-c

she was sorry that she had not started some other subject. In their former conve

?' he inquire

ach Rome in a

u know what an indefatigable woman my aunt is. She will make me escort her to eve

htly at the pictur

in Palestrina when

vation pass in a d

ou think I ought. The Bible says, you know, "Love your rela

sudden laugh and

. 'I suppose my aunt told you

e anythin

itted the unpardonable sin of preferr

vention warranted-being an artist, he was excusable, for she was distinctly an addition to the moss-covered fountain. The young man may have prolonged the situation somewhat; in any case, the sun's rays were beginning to sla

ly, Mr. Dessart; and when I go away from Rome

le note of anxiety in his voice. 'But I tho

rned. 'But I'm going back to Am

exaggerated s

it comes you'll change your mind-everybody does

watching her, and she was equally conscious that her pale-blue muslin gown and her rosebud hat formed an admirable contrast to the frowning old merman. When she turned back there was a shade of amusement

xasperatingly matter-of-fact tone.

receive a jacket a

ghted. Visitors are a god

important things they said occurred in the pauses when no words were spoken. The young man carried his hat in his hand, carelessly switching the branches with it as he passed. His shining light-brown hair-almost the c

a moment as the sound of mingled v

a slight grimace. 'My two enemies! The Contessa Torrenieri and Mr. Sybert. The contessa has a vill

ctedly august party-not only the Contessa Torrenieri and the secretary of the Embassy, but the American consu

having mushroom rago?t to-night, which, if I remember, i

s no intention of coming home. Your husband, pitying my

she added, turning toward the younger man, 'you can't know how we miss not having you drop in at all hours of

pressed a smile as she presented the young pa

Contessa Torrenieri that not a soul had visited us since we came out to t

they had an unusually festive tea-party. Mr. Copley had once remarked concerning Paul Dessart that

her own; though a 'White' in politics, her sympathies, on occasion, stuck persistently to the other side. The church had owned the property for five centuries, the government for a quarter of a century. Which had the better right? And aside from the justice of the question-Dessart backed her up-for ascetic reasons alone, the monks should be allowed to stay. Who wished to have the beauties of frescoed chapels and carved choir-s

ted off toward the ilex grove to occupy himself with the collection of lizards which he kept in a box under a stone garden seat. The group about the tea-table was shortly startled by a

' Mrs. Copley called as the

'Gerald has merely been trying to i

l confusion with a volley of Latin ejaculations. She push him in! Madonna mia, what a fib! Why should she do such a thing as that when it would only p

t on the other, while with a great deal of animation and gesture she recounted a diverting bit of Roman gossip. Melville and Marcia followed after, the latter with a speculative eye on the group in front, and an amused appreciation of the fact that the young artist would very much have preferred dropping beh

ll to be ashamed of her representative to Italy. His Excell

she inquired, her eyes on the l

xample of the right m

one of the people wh

elville's tone contained the suggestion of a challenge; he had fought so many battles i

Marcia vaguely. 'Lots o

d vigorously puffed it into a glow; then

ghed and a

avagant things in his praise, and the next, the most disparaging things in his disp

man who has no enemies is not to be trusted-I don't know how it may be in the wo

nly does not show his b

t her a moment in silence, while a brief smile flickered across his aggressively forceful face. She could not interpret t

olitan, a man of the world; whose business in life is to attend social functions and make after-dinner speeches-w

f your broad-mindedness in occasionally being able to detect the real man underneath the peasant-don't you think you might push you

Mr. Sybert,' she laughed; 'Uncle

l. The contessa had an unerring instinct for effect, and her exits and her entrances were divertingly spectacular. She bade Mrs. Copley, Marcia, and the consul-general good-bye upon the terrace, and trailed across the marble flagging, attended-at a careful distance from her train-by the three remaining men. Sybert hand

Seven Hills. The two men seemed to be diametrically opposed to all their views, and were equally far apart in their methods of arguing. Dessart would lunge into flights of exaggerated rhetoric, piling up adjectives and metaphors until by sheer weight he had carried his listeners off their feet; while Sybert, with a curt phrase, would knock the corner-stone from under the finished edifice. The l

arrow ribbon of glimmering gold where sky and plain met the sea, the misty whiteness of Rome, the sharply cut outline of Monte S

ed, 'couldn't sugge

crept over Sybe

suggest a

ought a reproachful

rcia, 'let me tell you of the thing I saw the other day on the Roman Campagna: a sight which was eno

tered a s

nd I only wish it were pos

rs in his voice. 'A McCormick reaper, I tell you, painted red and yellow a

once. One shudders to think of its activities-and that in the Agra Romana, which pi

economical way of cultivating

in the world sacred to beauty? Must America flood every corner of the habitable globe with reapers and sew

says they haven't enough to eat; but they certainly do look happy, and t

ine, thinking how pretty the sky looks; and he will get as much pleasure from the prospect as he would from his

initions.' He stretched out his hand toward the west, where the plain joined the sea by the ruins of Ostia

asked, 'to see that land drained and planted and liv

any would lose! Once in a while, Mr. Sybert, it seems as if utility might give way to poetry-especially on the Roman Campagna. It is more fitting that it should

ve a few right

-stacks and machinery, and the Campagna laid out in garden plots, and everybody getting good wages and six per cent. interest;

land was to draw from it every possible centesime of income. They had stopped to water their horses at a cluster of straw huts where the farm labourers lived, and Sybert had dismounted and gone into one of them to talk to the people. It was dark and damp, with a di

for a second he felt tempted to describe it. But with the reflection that neither of the two before him w

ore we'll see that,' he a

t, wouldn't you?'

wouldn

nts as they are. They are far more attractive when they are poor, and since

every detail of her dainty gown, her careless grace as she leaned against the balustrade, and he made no endeavour to conceal the look of criticall