they
have neither conscience nor gratitude, and regard thievish demands when
satisfied merely as stepping-stones to higher things.

Many of the outsides of Florence I seemed to know by heart--the Palazzo
Vecchio for instance. But close by it Cellini's two statues, the Judith
and the Perseus, brought my heart up to my mouth unexpectedly. The
Perseus is so out of proportion as to be ludicrous from one point of
view: but another is magnificent enough to make me forgive the scamp his
autobiography from now to the day of judgment (when we shall all begin
forgiving each other in great haste, I suppose, for fear of the devil
taking the hindmost!), and I registered a vow on the spot to that
effect:--so no more of him here, henceforth, but good!

There is not so much color about as I had expected: and austerity rather
than richness is the note of most of the exteriors.

I have not been allowed into the Uffizi yet, so to-day consoled myself
with the Pitti. Titian's "Duke of Norfolk" is there, and I loved him,
seeing a certain likeness there to somebody whom I--like. A photo of him
will be coming to you. Also there is a very fine Lely-Vandyck of Charles
I. and Henrietta Maria, a quite moral painting, making a triumphant
assertion of that martyr's bad character. I imagine he got into heaven
through having his head cut off and cast from him: otherwise all of him
would have perished along with his mouth.

Somewhere too high up was hanging a ravishing Botticelli--a Madonna and
Child bending over like a wind-blown tree to be kissed by St. John:--a
composition that takes you up in its arms and rocks you as you look at
it. Andrea del Sarto is to me only a big mediocrity: there is nothing
here to touch his chortling child-Christ in our National Gallery.

At Pisa I slept in a mosquito-net, and felt like a bride at the altar
under a tulle veil which was too large for her. Here, for lack of that
luxury, being assured that there were no mosquitoes to be had, I have
been sadly ravaged. The creatures pick out all foreigners, I think, and
only when they have exhausted the supply do they pass on to the natives.
Mrs. T---- left one foot unveiled when in Pisa, and only this morning
did the irritation in the part bitten begin to come out.

I can now ask for a bath in Italian, and order the necessary things for
myself in the hotel: also say "come in" and "thank you." But just the
few days of that very German _table d'hote_ at Lucerne, where I t