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Page 56
_Oh! their Rafael of the dear Madonnas._
--BROWNING.
[Illustration: LOGGIA OF RAPHAEL, VATICAN, ROME.]
It was, of course, somewhat difficult for Barbara to adjust herself to
the new conditions. After the first, however, she said nothing to any
one save Bettina about the money Howard had left her, only, as in her
ignorance of business methods, she had need to consult Mrs. Douglas.
But she and Bettina had many things to talk over and much consultation
to hold regarding the future. One evening, after they had been thus
busy, Bettina said, nestling closer to her sister, as they sat together
on the couch, brave in its Roman draperies:--
"You must not always say '_our_ money,' Bab, dear."
"Why not?" with a startled look.
"Because it is _your_ money,--your very own;--the money Howard gave you
to spend for him, and yourself enjoy."
"But, Betty, we have shared everything all our lives. I do not know how
to have or use anything that is not yours as well as mine. If Howard had
known my heart, he would have had it just as I would. I shall give you
half, Betty. Do not, oh! do not refuse it. I shall not be happy with it
unless you are willing. Then you and I will work with it and enjoy it
together. It is the only way. Say yes, dear," and Barbara looked at her
sister with an almost piteous entreaty.
Bettina could say nothing for a time. Then, as if impelled by the force
of Barbara's desire, said:--
"Wait until we get home. Then, if you wish it as you do now, I will do
as papa and mamma think best; for, darling," in a somewhat quavering
voice, "I know if the money were all mine, I should feel just as you
do." And a loving kiss sealed the compact.
Meanwhile the days in Rome were passing,--lovely in nature as only
spring days in Italy can be; days filled to overflowing with delightful
and unique interest. For cities, as well as people, possess their own
characteristic individualities, and Rome is distinctively an individual
city.
From her foundation by the shepherd-kings far beyond the outermost
threshold of history, down through the six or seven centuries during
which she was engaged in conquering the nations; through the five
hundred years of her undisputed reign as proud mistress of the world; in
her sad decay and fall; and to-day in her resurrection, she is only
herself--unlike all other cities.
The fragmentary ruins of her great heathen temples arise close beside
her Christian churches,--some are even foundations for them,--while the
trappings of many have furnished the rich adornments of Christian
altars. Her medi�val castles and palaces, crowded to overflowing with
heart-breaking traditions, look out over smiling gardens in the midst of
which stand the quiet, orderly, innocent homes of the present race of
commonplace men and women. Her vast Colosseum is only an immense quarry.
Her proud mausoleum of the Julian C�sars is an unimportant circus.
We drive or walk on the Corso, along which the C�sars triumphantly led
processions of captives; through which, centuries later, numberless
papal pageants made proud entries of the city; where the maddest
jollities of carnival seasons have raged: and we see nothing more
important than modern carriages filled with gayly dressed women, and
shops brilliant with modern jewellery and pretty colored fabrics; and we
purchase gloves, handkerchiefs, and photographs close to some spot over
which, perchance, Queen Zenobia passed laden with the golden chains that
fettered her as she graced the triumph of Emperor Aurelian; or
Cleopatra, when she came conqueror of the proud heart of Julius C�sar.
We linger on the Pincio, listening to the sweet music of the Roman band,
while our eyes wander out over the myriad roofs and domes to where great
St. Peter's meets the western horizon; and we forget utterly those dark
centuries during which this lovely hill was given over to Nero's fearful
ghost, until a Pope, with his own hands, cut down the grand trees that
crowned its summit, thus exorcising the demon birds which the people
believed to linger in them and still to work the wicked emperor's will.
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