ast that day and
another night at Serbelloni, for one might journey to all four corners
of the globe and not find another place so magically beautiful.

Although I was up so early, perhaps I spent a longer time over my toilet
than the two girls do over theirs; and when I was ready neither Maida
nor Beechy were in their rooms. I had opened my door to go down and look
for them when I came face to face with a waiter carrying an enormous
bouquet. It was for me, with a perfectly lovely poem written by the
Prince. At least, it was in his handwriting, so I suppose it was by him,
and it was full of pretty allusions to an "adorable woman," with praises
for the gracious day that gave her to the world. I _was_ pleased! It was
like going back and being a young girl again, and I could have sung for
joy, as the bird did last night.

The rest of the party were on an entrancing terrace, looking down over
other flowery terraces upon the town of Bellagio, with its charming old
campanile, and its grey roofs like a flock of doves clustering together
on the border of the lake. The water was so clear and still that the big
hotels and villas on the opposite shore seemed to have fallen in head
down, and each little red-and-white canopied boat waiting for passengers
at the quay had its double in the bright blue mirror. Clouds and
mountains were all reflected too, and it seemed as if one might take
one's choice between the real world and the dream world.

Maida and Beechy had already been for a walk with Sir Ralph and Mr.
Barrymore, who had taken them up by a labyrinth of wooded paths to an
old ruined castle which they described as crowning the head of the
promontory. It had been built by the Romans, and in the Middle Ages was
the stronghold of brigands, who captured beautiful ladies and terrorized
the whole country. The girls were excited about some secret passages
which they had found, leading down from the ruin to wonderful nooks
screened on one side by trees and hanging over sheer abysses on the
other. They wanted to show also an old chapel and a monks' burying
ground which you had to reach by scrambling down a narrow stairway
attached to the precipitous rocks, like a spider web. But I had on my
white _suede_ shoes with the Louis Quinze heels, which look so well with
a white dress and dark blue silk stockings; besides, I began to want my
breakfast, and it would have been impolite to disappear before I thanked
the Prince, who might come out