cle of the court. Their
services are only required upon certain gala occasions. One is the
daughter of Hickson Fields (whom we used to know so well in Paris), who
has married Prince Brancaccio. Another American lady, the wife of
Prince Cenci, who is of the same family as the lady with the turban.
Both the Prince and the Princess are at court, he as chamberlain and
she as _dame de palais_. He is called the "_Boeuf a la mode_," not
because he in any way looks like a _boeuf_, but because he is
fine-looking, masterful, and _a la mode_.

Count Gianotti, first master of ceremonies, has also an American wife.
She was a Miss Kinney, a daughter of Mrs. Kinney whom we knew in
Washington. She is tall and striking-looking. Her Friday receptions are
well attended, especially when she lets it be known that there will be
_particularly_ fine music. While the artist at the piano thinks he is
making a heavy and great success and is wrestling with his _arpeggios_
on a small piano, the guests come and go and rattle their teacups,
regardless of the noise, while the music goes on. This is often the
case in Roman _salons_.

The Marquis de Noailles is the French Ambassador. You recollect him and
the Marquise, who were in Washington the first year we were there. He,
as you know, is of the bluest blood of France. She is of Polish
extraction and lived in Paris, where she had a _succes de beaute_ in
the Napoleonic days. After her first husband's death (Count
Schwieskoska) she married de Noailles. They have an offspring, an
_enfant terrible_, if there ever was one, who is about nine years old,
and a worse torment never existed. Nobody on earth has the slightest
control over him--neither father, mother, nor tutor. The Marquis makes
excuses for his bringing-up by saying that, having had a very severe,
rod-using father himself, he was determined that if he ever had a child
he would spare the rod. He can flatter himself that he has thoroughly
succeeded in spoiling the child.

When we were at a very large and official dinner at the Farnese Palace
(the French Embassy), where the beautifully decorated tables filled the
whole length of the Carracci Gallery, the guests were amazed as seeing
Doudou (the name of the infant) come in on a velocipede and ride round
and round the table, all the servants dodging about to avoid collision,
holding their platters high in the air, for fear of being tripped up
and spilling the food. The astonished guests expected ev