Old Mrs. Johnson has found a Roman Prince in the place of Count Albert for Rosalie Isaacs. The Vicomte says he is all that can be desired. He has a palazzo like a fortress at Rome, with a priceless collection of Greek marbles which he can't sell, and was so poor that he spent one winter on the Via Corniche, with a monkey and an organ that he borrowed from his former steward, who had just returned from tramping in America with enough to start himself in a small business. But the Prince is not bogus; he has the right to stand in the presence of the King of Italy, and best of all he is a Bourbon sur la côté gauche. The Vicomte thinks he cost infinitely less than Clandevil cost the Parkers, and Rosalie's wedding this winter in Rome will be much more magnificent, for the Pope will marry her, and the Royal Family will be present. Mrs. Johnson must be très fière of her success. But, as Blanche remarked, the extraordinary part of these American marriages Elasticity of Conscienceis the elasticity of the religious conscience. The Parkers are Baptists, yet Mr. Parker has been restoring Gothic churches, and Miss Parker, who has been "dipped," was married by the Bishop of St. Esau. And Mrs. Johnson, who told me in Lucerne that she belonged to the Plymouth Brethren, after marrying her daughter to a Jew and her granddaughter to a Roman Catholic, will actually receive the Papal benediction! But of course, as I told Blanche, one must be à la mode, and that I asked the Bishop of St. Esau at the wedding if he would not A Prayer for Paquinput in a prayer for Paquin in the Litany after "and all the nobility."
Well, my darling, I must say good-night; it is frightfully late, and the champagne that came from the Russian Court that I had this morning, has given me just a wee bit of a migraine.—Your dearest Mamma.
LETTER XXIX
The Carlton Hotel
15th November
Darling Elizabeth:
A Rainy Day
Yesterday it rained as it only can rain in London in November, and when it stopped for a few minutes there was such a nasty fog. We had breakfast in bed, and didn't get up till quite twelve; it was such a miserable day we didn't know what to do with ourselves, so we went down-stairs and sat in that jolly place with the glass roof and the palms, and there was quite a good band playing. There were very few people there, as it isn't the season, but about one o'clock a great many people began to come for lunch. Most of the men looked like Jews, and they all wore gold rings with crests on their little fingers. I am sure they were company-promoters, for presently Lord de Manton arrived with poor, tottering Lord Ardath, and joined some of the Israelite people, and they all At Lunchwent in to lunch together. Little Dolly Daydreams of the Tivoli drove up in a hansom with that young simpleton, Percy Felton, of the Scots Greys. We could see them through the glass doors as they got out of the cab; she lifted her skirt up to her knee to keep it out of the wet, and he kissed her on the ear right in front of the porter. Lady Ann Fairfax, the war-special, had lunch with six khaki men, and they made such a noise at their table we could hear them laughing where we were. Medina, Viscountess Frogmore, and Mrs. Beverley Fruit came together and sat down near us for a few minutes when they were joined by the Bishop of St. Esau and the three had lunch together. The Viscountess was in deep mourning, her crape veil trailed on the ground behind her, and she looked very melancholy; you know her son fell at Magersfontein. A smart-looking curate, evidently late, rushed up after they sat down. Blanche says she thinks he is a protégé of the Bishop's, he paid the greatest deference to both the Bishop and Lady Frogmore after lunch when they were having coffee outside in the glass place where the band is. I am sure we shall hear of him one of these days.
A Conversation