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There were to be fireworks and illuminations of the streets for the people, and a Trecento costume ball at the Palazzo Vecchio for those who had influence to procure tickets and money to pay for them. Mamie, greatly daring, proclaimed her intention of wearing the "umile ed onesto sanguigno" of Beatrice. "You will be my Dante, Don Filippo? Momma is going in cloth of gold as Giovanna degli Albizzi."
Portheris fixed her pince nez upon him in suspicious inquiry. "I can even swallow the whale now," he faltered, "like Jonah." After two days of the most humid civility Mrs. Portheris had brought momma round.
So when poppa said that it must seem to me like a dream, so much had happened since the day momma and I left Chicago at twenty-four hours' notice, six weeks ago, I said no, for my part I had felt pretty wide awake all the time; a person had to be, I ventured to add, with no more time to waste upon Southern Europe than we had.
From the first moment at the station, when the hard eyes had looked her over and the harsh voice had asked about "the girl's trunk," Sheila's sensitiveness had begun to suffer. It was not easy, even with Babe's good-humored help, to go down into the kitchen and submit to Mrs. Hudson's hectoring. "Momma" had all the insolence of the underdog.
And tell him, do you understand, to rush!" That same day, in the afternoon, I remember, when we were disembarking for an ice at Florian's, momma directed our attention to two gentlemen in an approaching gondola. "There's something about that man," she said impressively, "I mean the one in the duster, that belongs to the reign of Louis Philippe."
Dod had come into his patrimony and simultaneously disappeared in the direction of Europe six months before, since when we had only heard vaguely that he had lost most of it, but was inalterably cheerful; and there was nobody, apparently, he expected so little or desired so much to see in Paris as the Senator, momma and me.
It ain't possible to be acquainted with her any more, for all she's so lonesome, an' one feels sort of bad about it, yes, indeed. But momma, the last thing she said to me was: 'Now EI'nor Martin, just keep your eyes open, an' don't get acquainted with people you might feel bad about afterwards. An' I presume momma was right.
"I fear," she said with a little sigh, "that you are thinking very little of what is past and gone, love." "Momma," I replied, "don't spoil my breakfast." When momma can throw an emotional chill over anything, I never knew her to refrain. "I should like that garçon to bring me some more bread," I continued. Momma sighed even more deeply.
Malt said it made her feel quite idolatrous to look at them, and for her part she couldn't be sorry they had fallen so much into decay it was only right and proper. This launched Mr. and Mrs. Malt and my parents upon a discussion which threatened to become unwisely polemic if Emmeline had not briefly decided it in favour of Christianity. Momma and Mrs.
"Don't you think we might be silent for a time, Alexander," she said. Momma does call him Alexander sometimes. I didn't like to mention it before, but it can't be concealed for ever. She says it's because Joshua always costs her an effort, and every woman ought to have the right to name her own husband.
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