March.
My Easter greetings to you, dear Polly; I hope they may come in time. I have been desolate since you left Rome, and am looking forward eagerly to seeing you next Sunday at Sorrento. As I passed your Palazzo, I glanced up and saw the flowers nodding their heads above the walls of your terrace, and I met the Prince wandering about outside, appearing decidedly forlorn, poor devil. I fear you treated him badly. I felt more than a little forlorn myself thinking of you so many miles away.
I went up with a picnic party among the Alban mountains today, first to Frascati, then, after déjeuner, we climbed to the ancient city of Tusculum, and the view was glorious. Way, way off lay Rome and the great dome of St. Peter’s, and near it, I knew, was your Palazzo.
POLLY TO A. D.
Sorrento,
March.
We’ve been driving about all day, and have seen such a lot of people we know at the hotel. Oh, isn’t it lovely here! And it will be even nicer when you arrive. Of course you know Sorrento well. It’s very fascinating to me,—the white oriental villas, the peacock blue of the sea, and the gray-green olive orchards. We wanted to buy some olives, but what do you suppose the storekeeper said?
“We have none.”