ciata (the highest
decoration of Italy), is called "_Le cousin du Roi_." He is a great
personage. He has been Prime Minister and still plays a very
conspicuous part in politics. He has written many books on
constitutional law. He is tall, handsome, and altogether delightful.

The Storys still live in the third heaven of the Barberini Palace,
where on Fridays there is a steady procession of tea-thirsty English
and Americans who toil upward.

The two sons are what Mr. Story calls "promising." Waldo (the elder)
promises to rival his father as a sculptor. Julian promises to be a
great painter. His picture of Cardinal Howard, all in red against a red
background, is a fine study in color besides being an excellent
likeness.

The Haseltines are flourishing like green bay-trees. Their beautiful
apartment in the Altieri Palace, where his _atelier_ is, is filled with
his exquisite water-colors and paintings. Her brother, Mr. Marshall, is
staying with them. He is very amusing. Last evening he held the table
in a roar when he told of a recent experience.

At the Duchess Fiano's costume ball he had worn a costume of a
Mignon-Henri-II. He described it to us. A light-blue satin jacket, and
trunk-hose, slashed to exaggeration, with white satin puffs, a jaunty
velvet cap with a long feather, and white satin shoes turned up at the
ends.

Worth had made it and put a price on it almost equal to Marshall's
income, and just because it had cost so much and he had received a good
many compliments he thought it was his duty to have it and himself
photographed as a memento of his reckless extravagance before the
costume was consigned to oblivion. On the day of his appointment with
the artist he was dressed and ready in his costume. As it was a rainy
day, he provided himself with an umbrella and a pair of india-rubbers
big enough to go over the gondola-like shoes. He also carried a stuffed
falcon in his hand so that there should be no doubt as to what he was.

Unluckily, the horse fell down on the slippery _Corso_, and the
coachman insisted upon Marshall's getting out.

"You may imagine my feelings," he said, "at being obliged to show
myself in broad daylight in this get-up. A crowd of gaping idiots
gathered about me and made particularly sarcastic remarks. One said,
'_E il Re!_' ('It is the King'). Another screamed, '_Quante e bello i
piccolo_!' There was I stranded in the middle of the _Corso_, holding
an umbrella over my head in one h