"Donna Roma Volonna, daughter of a line of princes, making love to a nameless nobody!"
"Shows what a heavenly character she is, then! See how good I am at throwing bouquets at myself?"
"Well, what is love, anyway? A certain boy and a certain girl agree to go for a row in the same boat to the same place, and if they pull together, what does it matter where they come from?"
"What, indeed?" she said, and a smile, partly serious, played about the parted mouth.
"Could you think like that?"
"I could! I could! I could!"
The clock struck eleven. Another fanfare of trumpets came from the direction of the Vatican, and then the confused noises in the square suddenly ceased and a broad "Ah!" passed over it, as of a vast living creature taking breath.
"They're coming!" cried Roma. "Baron, the cortège is coming."
"Presently," the Baron answered from within.
Roma's dog, which had slept on a chair through the tumult, was awakened by the lull and began to bark. She picked it up, tucked it under her arm and ran back to the balcony, where she stood by the parapet, in full view of the people below, with the young Roman on one side, the American on the other, and the ladies seated around.