Irma in Italy: A Travel Story

by Annie F. Johnston

  CHAPTER X

  A QUEEN--AND OTHER SIGHTS

  Irma was descending the Spanish Steps one morning on her way to thepiazza when she heard Marion calling her. Turning her head, she saw himhastening toward her.

  "What's your hurry?" he cried.

  "I can't hurry going down these steps. I am on my way to return a bookfor Aunt Caroline. Then----"

  "Well, what then?"

  "I haven't decided."

  "Then come with me to Rag Fair, and after that I have something else forthe afternoon. Aunt Caroline says she won't try to go out to-day, hercold is worse and Uncle Jim intends to stay in to read to her, and I,well, she said I must look out for you."

  Marion said the last a trifle sheepishly, adding, "Of course I will dowhatever you wish. But I am sure you will like my plan."

  "Yes, provided you haven't the Catacombs in mind, or that awful churchwith bones and skulls for decorations."

  "The Cappuccini; no, we won't go there."

  "And you won't ask me to ride around Aurelian's wall on a bicycle?"

  "No, though you'd find it great fun! I don't know anything I haveenjoyed better. The towers are so picturesque and they were useful, too.I went up in one to see the little rooms inside the walls that thesoldiers occupied, and the guard-rooms, up there more than forty feet.They certainly had a good chance to see the enemy at a long distance. Ifyou and Aunt Caroline would drive some day, I'd point things out toyou."

  "Perhaps we will, but now--" Irma had taken out her camera. "Oh, I wishI could get a photograph, but I suppose they will run when they see whatI want."

  "They" made a picturesque group, slowly mounting the steps, a motherwith babe in arms, a shawl thrown over her head, a half-grown girl in afaded pink gingham, and a little boy in a shabby velveteen suit and felthat with a feather over his curls.

  NEAR LA TRINITA, ROME.]

  ROME. A GROUP ON SPANISH STEPS.]

  "The boy is probably an artist's model, dressed for effect. I am notsure about the others, but I can make them stand for you."

  "Oh! Please!" Whereupon Marion stepped up to the woman, spoke a fewwords in Italian, and lo, they at once grouped themselves picturesquelyin a spot where the sun fell in just the right way for a photograph.Irma took her place, snapped her camera, turned the key, took a secondsnap, in case anything should go wrong with the first and murmured,"_Grazie, grazie_," one of her few Italian words.

  "_Niente, niente, signorina_," said the girl, who seemed to be thespokesman of the party, looking inquiringly at Marion.

  Then almost instantly Marion dropped a small piece of silver in herhand.

  "That's the way to get them to stand," he said laughing; "generally thesmallest copper will fetch them."

  "But you gave more."

  "Oh, this was a group of four. I have noticed that little chap before,selling flowers. He's very amusing."

  Soon Irma had returned her library book, and by various short cutsMarion led her to the Palazzo Cancelleria, near which the so-called RagFair is held every Wednesday.

  They found a series of canvas booths, where a great variety of thingswas displayed. The sellers, more numerous than the buyers, praised theirwares at the tops of their voices, if Irma or Marion even glanced towardthem.

  "I should call it a rummage sale, and things are rather rubbishy," saidIrma.

  At this moment a man thrust a pair of silver-mounted opera glasses inMarion's face, naming a ridiculously low price. With some difficulty,Marion shook him off. "Nothing would induce me to buy them."

  "But they seemed very cheap."

  "Yes, but that's the reason. I believe they were stolen."

  "Oh, but would the police allow it?"

  "Not if they knew it, but these people keep such things hidden. Perhapsother goods are stolen, too. There are some pretty things here."

  "Aunt Caroline might find some old lace or embroidery that she'd like,but for my own part I am disappointed. However, we've seen the Rag Fair,and we can cross that off our list of sights."

  Leaving the Fair and the voluble merchants, after a walk of a block ortwo Marion suggested that they go home by trolley. This pleased Irma,who had not yet ridden in the Roman cars.

  When the conductor came for their fare, Marion gave a cry of surprise.

  "What is it?" asked Irma.

  "Well, it's worse than ridiculous. I have lost my purse. My last smallpiece of money was the silver bit I gave to the girl on the SpanishSteps. I know I had my purse then."

  While they were talking Irma put her own little purse in Marion's hand,and he paid their fare.

  "Let us go back to the Rag Fair," she said. "Some one there must havetaken it. You know how they were jostling us."

  "There'd be no good in going back. The person who took it would hardlyreturn it. Besides there wasn't much in it, not more than two hundred_liri_."

  "Two hundred _liri_, forty dollars." Irma rapidly transferred the sum toAmerican money. Why, that was more than she had brought from home asextra spending money and for little gifts, and Marion could say it wasnothing.

  "It is worth trying to find," she suggested mildly.

  "If there was any chance of finding it, but we'd only waste time. It'stoo near luncheon, and I'm anxious to carry out my afternoon plan."

  "How strange Marion is!" thought Irma. "It doesn't disturb him in theleast to lose money, and yet some little thing that no one can accountfor will give him a fit of blues for two or three days."

  At three in the afternoon Irma came down to the hotel office, lookingcool and comfortable in her simple pongee suit.

  "I am awfully curious," she said, as Marion helped her into thecarriage. "Aunt Caroline says she knows where we're going, but shewouldn't spoil your fun."

  Marion only smiled, as he directed the coachman, "To the Villa Corsini,"and the words conveyed little to Irma, beyond the fact that a villa wasItalian for "park" and not for "country house," as in English. After aquarter of an hour through a part of Rome she did not know, at last theycame to some rather poor streets, where people were lounging about theirdoors as if expecting something.

  "I suppose they're not turning out just to see us pass."

  "Who knows? Perhaps they have heard that we are distinguished Americanvisitors."

  Soon they turned in toward a park, before whose gate stood a number ofcarriages and automobiles.

  "We shall be here an hour," said Marion in Italian, and the driver bowedcomprehendingly.

  Showing their tickets, they went up a broad avenue past fine trees andoccasional flower-beds. "It's a garden party for some kind of acharity," Marion explained, "and I thought it would be fun to see someof the princesses and marchionesses who are running it. There was a longlist of them in the newspapers yesterday."

  "Yes, it will be fun," responded Irma, really surprised that Marionshould willingly waste an hour on what might be called a society affair.That wasn't the way with most boys, and from what she had seen ofMarion, she had not thought him fond of society.

  Soon they came in sight of a long table, where many men and women weredrinking and serving tea. Near it was a large marquee into which theylooked as they passed, with a table handsomely spread and decorated withflowers and bright streamers. At one end of the apartment severalhandsome chairs were placed.

  "Some special guest must be coming," said Irma, "but the lawn is goodenough for me. Let us go toward those chairs under the trees." For aminute or two they watched the gay scene at the long table.

  "It is evidently a family affair," said Marion. "Every one seems to knowevery one else. Those men are not bad looking, for Italians," heconcluded.

  "Many of the ladies are beautiful," responded Irma, "and what lovelygowns! I suppose they are in the height of fashion, but I should thinkthey'd hate to trail them over the ground."

  Presently a most attractive lady, whom Irma had especially noticed,approached them.

  "Will you have your tea now?" she asked in English, with the slightestaccent that showed it wa
s not her native language.

  "I will have it sent you at once," she continued, "and some cakes."

  Without waiting for a reply, in a moment she had returned to the table,from which a young girl soon came bringing a tray with cups of tea and aplate of tiny cakes.

  "Yes, she is expected at once," the young girl replied to some questionof Marion's that Irma had not heard.

  "The Queen, the Queen Margherita," cried Irma. "You are expecting to seethe Queen."

  "You are a good guesser," retorted Marion. "For when I read thatMargherita had promised to attend this fete I thought it would be funfor you to come. I know your friend Gertrude has been anxious to haveyou see her, and there may not be another chance unless you should makeup your mind to ask an audience."

  "Hardly," replied Irma smiling, "and I do hope she will come."

  Before the two had finished their tea, the groups at the large tablemoved forward, forming a semicircle near the marquee. The otherstrangers, who like themselves were at little tables under the trees,rose and moved toward the crowd. In a few minutes a little group came upthe avenue from the gate. Irma's whole attention was fastened on thegracious lady in the centre, who leaned a trifle on her parasol handle,as she bowed to those who greeted her on each side.

  "I should know her anywhere," cried Irma; "her face is as sweet as inthe photographs I have seen. Look, they are kissing her hand."

  Margherita paused a moment, as if to take in the whole scene before her.Irma noticed that although she was scarcely above middle height, in hersoft black gown and wide black hat she had an air of grace and elegancethat would have distinguished her, even among those who did not knowthat she was the widow of King Humberto.

  "How pleased Gertrude will be that I have seen her!" she exclaimed, asQueen Margherita entered the marquee, attended by a number of those whohad been in attendance upon the tables, "and it is all owing to you,"she added, turning to thank Marion for his thoughtfulness. "As KingVictor Emanuel and Queen Elena have gone to their country place, we arenot likely to see any other royalties in Italy. But _now_ I can writehome that I have seen Queen Margherita."

  A little later, as Irma and Marion passed the marquee on their way tothe carriage, they paused to glance within, where Margherita sat,talking with much animation, the centre of a circle of ladies.

  "Well, young people," said Uncle Jim at dinner that evening, "you havehad a giddy day, with rag fairs and fetes and things of that kind.To-morrow we return to hard, earnest sightseeing, the Borgia apartmentsat the Vatican and the Vatican Library. Your aunt wishes you to go whileher cold lasts, so she has a reasonable excuse for not travelling theseveral miles necessary to see these things."

  "Fortunately I am strong," said Marion, "and Irma seems equal to anyamount of walking."

  "I'm not sure," Irma protested, "that I wish to see more in the Vatican.I enjoyed the sculptures the other day, and the paintings in Raphael'sStanze. Perhaps I am wrong, but I would almost like to leave Romewithout seeing the rest of the Pope's palace. Just now I recall clearlyall the frescoes: the School of Athens and the Borgo, and Parnassus andthe others, and then the Ascension in the gallery, with that wonderfulyellowish light. I am contented to remember nothing else of theVatican."

  "Oh, that will never do, the largest palace in the world, with athousand different apartments, covering thirteen and a half acres, andyou wish to remember it by a few frescoes and one large painting!"

  "The greatest frescoes in the world. I've heard you say that yourself."

  "Oh, yes, but the treasures of the Vatican are all great, and you musthave a chance to judge between what you've seen of Raphael and what youwill see of Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel. Those popes of theMiddle Ages were wise in their day, especially after Nicholas V, in1450, who decided to make the Vatican the most imposing palace in theworld by bringing under one roof all the papal offices. Since then thebuilding has been constantly enlarged and improved. But now only a smallpart is occupied by the Papal Court. Certain days and hours most of theVatican treasures are shown to visitors. If you could spend all yourtime there for a week, you would not have seen half."

  Next day Uncle Jim decided not to go with the young people to theVatican, and so again Marion was Irma's guide.

  "I am less afraid of the Swiss guards than I was the first day," saidIrma, as they passed the Pope's soldiers in their brilliant red andyellow uniforms, on their way to the Scala Regia.

  "Oh," responded Marion, "they wouldn't dare touch a visitor. Just waita moment, I've forgotten exactly where we go first."

  So they waited, while Marion turned the leaves of his guidebook, andthen he felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard in Italian a verypositive "Move on." He looked into the frowning face of a Swiss guard,and without further ado he moved rapidly up the broad staircase.

  "There," said Irma, when out of hearing of the soldiers. "What did Itell you? They might have done something terrible. You know we are notin Italy now. The Vatican is the Pope's country."

  "And the Pope is one of the best-hearted men in the world. Why, actuallyyou are trembling! I suppose they have rules to keep people moving, butthey wouldn't dare harm an American."

  Irma, however, was disturbed by this incident, and was not sorry a fewminutes later to find herself one of several in an anteroom waiting theguide to take them through the library.

  "A library!" she exclaimed, when they had entered the vast hall, "butwhere are the books?"

  "In these glass cases--listen to the guide."

  Not until the end of their tour of the great hall did they learn thatthe library, in the ordinary sense of books and manuscripts availablefor students, was not open to ordinary visitors. The so-called librarythrough which the guide led them was high vaulted, and more than twohundred feet long, with painted ceiling, floors of marble mosaics fromancient temples and baths, and exquisite marble columns also fromancient buildings. In the end they saw some books worth seeing: theoldest Bible in existence, a manuscript of the fourth century, and anold second century Virgil. Of later times there was a volume of HenryVIII's love letters to Anne Boleyn, and many exquisitely illustratedmanuscripts, among them a Natural History illuminated by Raphael and hispupils.

  "I wish he'd cut it short," said Marion, as the guide gave longdescriptions of each manuscript that he pointed out in its case, or inthe drawers that he sometimes unlocked.

  "I rather enjoy what he says about the manuscripts as you translate itfor me," responded Irma, "but he need not describe every present givento every pope. Vases are vases, and we know all these things werepresents to one pope or another. They are all costly and some arebeautiful. But I am getting tired."

  It would not have been possible, even had they dared try to hurry theloquacious guide. Before they left the hall Irma almost forgot herfatigue in looking at the ancient paintings, inscriptions, and otherrelics of early Christians. Again, as at the Lateran, she sighed deeplyat the pathos of the little things brought from the Catacombs, combs andsmall toilet articles, little brooches, and other pieces of simplejewelry.

  "You are really tired!" exclaimed Marion, as they passed through theglass door out of the hall. "But in the Sistine Chapel you can sitdown."

  So it happened that after Irma had looked into a mirror held under theceiling, on which are painted Michelangelo's frescoes--the sibyls andthe prophets, and the well-known Adam and Eve, Irma from a bench alongthe side looked with more or less interest at the paintings opposite herby Pinturicchio and other masters.

  A girl of sixteen, however, is not expected to have the interest of herelders in old masters, as Irma frankly acknowledged.

  "Of course I know the Last Judgment of Michelangelo's is a greataltarpiece, but I do not care to look at it longer. I'm very glad,though, that you brought me to the Sistine Chapel. When I read about thegreat church ceremonies in which the Pope takes part, I can imagine thecrowd here, and the Pope in the centre and----"

  Before Irma had finished speaking, from behind a wooden partition thatscreen
ed some men repairing the mosaic pavement, one of the workersstepped out, and with a finger of one hand on his lips, lifted the otheron high with one finger significantly extended. When he saw that he hadgained Marion's attention, he held up a small object, as if he wishedMarion to examine it. Then Marion went forward, and the man put theobject in his hand.

  "Cheap enough for a franc," said Marion, displaying a small octagon ofmosaics, green, red, and white.

  "Why it's the same pattern as the pavement there."

  "Of course, that's why I bought it," he replied, "as a souvenir of theSistine Chapel."

  "But ought you to take it?" asked Irma. "Had he the right to sell it?"

  An expression of anger crossed Marion's face.

  "Do you think I would do what is not right? Come," he continued, "weought to be on our way out."

  Then he strode on, keeping far enough ahead of Irma to preventconversation. "He is certainly like a spoiled child!" she thought, "andI fancied we were getting on so well together."

  The drive back to the hotel was rather silent, as well as hot. "In ourhottest weather it is never like this," thought poor Irma. She was gladenough to reach the shelter of the cool hotel.

  "Did you see where the papal dominions end and Italy begins?" askedUncle Jim at _dejeuner_.

  "No? Then you didn't look in the right place. There is one window fromwhich the guide could have shown you a soldier of the Pope's on guard,while at a short distance a sentry from the Italian army is pacing upand down."

  "From one or two windows I caught sight of the beautiful Vaticangardens," Irma replied, "and even if the Pope is a prisoner, he mustfind a great deal to enjoy in his walks."

  "_If_ he is a prisoner," began Uncle Jim.

  "He is certainly a voluntary prisoner," said Aunt Caroline, "but thesubject is too large a one to discuss now."

  Marion was silent, evidently sulking. But Aunt Caroline understood him,for when he left the table without a word she made no comment.