hed me very much in Rome was to find at the Coliseum, on
Sunday mornings, a crowd of women from the lowest classes,
extravagantly bedizened, loaded with ornaments, and wearing in their
ears enormous stars of paste diamonds. It was also in this garb that
they went to church, frequently followed by a domestic, who very often
was no other than their husband, his real occupation being probably
that of a valet. These women do nothing at home; their idleness is
such that they live in the greatest want. They may be seen at their
windows in the streets of Rome, with flowers and feathers on their
head, their faces made up with cosmetics. The upper part of their
dress, which is visible, indicates great luxury, so that one is
surprised, upon entering their rooms, to find that they have on
nothing more than a dirty petticoat. The Roman dames whom I mention
nevertheless enact aristocratic parts, and when the time comes to go
to the villas they carefully close their shutters in order to create
the belief that they have left for the country.

I was assured that every woman in Rome was in the habit of carrying a
dagger. I do not, however, believe that the great ladies wear any, but
certain it is that the wife of Denis, the landscape painter, with whom
I lodged, and who was a Roman, showed me the dagger which she always
had about her. As for the men of the people, they are never unprovided
with one, and this brings about a number of grave tragedies. Three
evenings after my arrival, for instance, I heard in my street some
shouts followed by a great tumult. I sent out to learn what the matter
was, and was informed that a man had just killed another with his
dagger. As these peculiar habits made me very much afraid, I was
assured that strangers had nothing to fear--that it was simply a
question of an act of revenge between Italians. As for the case in
point, the murderer and his victim had quarrelled ten years ago, and
the first, having recognised his enemy, at once struck him down with
his dagger, which proves how long an Italian can keep a grudge.

Certainly the customs of the upper class are milder, since high
society is very much the same all over Europe. However, I am not the
best judge, as with the exception of relations involving my art, and
invitations sent to me for numerous parties, I had little occasion to
become acquainted with the patrician ladies of Rome. What happened to
me was what naturally happens to every exile, which w