About two weeks ago this time, you and I at the Lido were riding madly on merry-go-rounds, seeing trained fleas, and throwing balls. Tonight my twin and I are going to have a game. You know the old saying—“Lucky at cards, unlucky at love.” I wonder if I shall win or lose.
We got so desperate we asked two dreadful Americans to come up for poker. Checkers is having even a more stupid time than I am, but he is becoming very chummy with the proprietor, and was actually roped into going to church, where he passed the plate with an air almost as fine as yours!
I know he wants to send messages to you, for he often says, “Well, I really am going to write to A. D. today.” Whether these letters ever get off or not I do not know.
The other evening, however, was quite amusing, as the beer garden was full of people, and there was a handsome Italian whom I thought I was falling in love with; he gave a fascinating bicycle performance. I bought his photograph, but after talking with him, I decided I did not like him at all, and threw the picture away.
Signor Peppi is with us, as you know, and Aunt is happy. If they aren’t engaged now, I think they will be soon. We all went to ride on horseback today and came home nearly dead, though P. was plucky and stuck it out. It is so nice to get on a horse again, you can’t imagine how I enjoy it. I think it is next best to a gondola and a sand-bank. I am sending you, by the way, a little silver gondola with my love.
P. S. Is there any news from Don Carlo in South Africa? Did the gardener’s daughter follow him? And my little Spaniard, Gonzaga, how is he?
A. D. TO POLLY
Monte Catini,