"And you, Princess! Come now, confess, is it the perfume of the incense which brings you to the Pope's procession, or the perfume of the promenaders?"
"Nonsense, General!" said the little woman, tapping the American with the tip of her lorgnette. "Who comes to a ceremony like this to say her prayers? Nobody whatever, and if the Holy Father himself were to say...."
"Oh! oh!"
"Which reminds me," said the little lady, "where is Donna Roma?"
"Yes, indeed, where is Donna Roma?" said the young Roman.
"Who is Donna Roma?" said the Englishman.
"Santo Dio! the man doesn't know Donna Roma!"
The white plumes bobbed up, the powdered face fell back, the little twinkling eyes closed, and the company laughed and seated themselves in the Loggia.
"Donna Roma, dear sir," said the young Roman, "is a type of the fair lady who has appeared in the history of every nation since the days of Helen of Troy."
"Has a woman of this type, then, identified herself with the story of Rome at a moment like the present?" said the Englishman.