"Did you see where the papal dominions end and Italy begins?" asked Uncle Jim at _dejeuner_.

"No? Then you didn't look in the right place. There is one window from which the guide could have shown you a soldier of the Pope's on guard, while at a short distance a sentry from the Italian army is pacing up and down."

"From one or two windows I caught sight of the beautiful Vatican gardens," Irma replied, "and even if the Pope is a prisoner, he must find a great deal to enjoy in his walks."

"_If_ he is a prisoner," began Uncle Jim.

"He is certainly a voluntary prisoner," said Aunt Caroline, "but the subject is too large a one to discuss now."

Marion was silent, evidently sulking. But Aunt Caroline understood him, for when he left the table without a word she made no comment.

CHAPTER XI

TIVOLI--AND HADRIAN'S VILLA

"Tivoli," said Irma, as they sat at luncheon in a pleasant garden not far from the cascades, "has disappointed me."

"In what way?" asked Uncle Jim.

"Oh, the name sounds so bright and frivolous that you expect it to be very gay here, and it isn't."

"The cataracts are lively."

"Yes, they foam and roar like the falls of Lodore, when you reach them, but Tivoli itself is a crowded little town, and the people seem solemn.

Even the Temple of the Sibyl is shabby and dirty, without looking old."

"Irma turning pessimist," cried Uncle Jim. "But the town isn't the whole of Tivoli. Villa d'Este is charming enough, unless it has changed since my day, and then there's the road to Hadrian's villa!"

Marion took neither one side nor the other in the discussion. He had talked to Irma little enough since their Vatican visit a day or two before. Yet he was always polite, and she judged from the past that his sulkiness would not last long.

The drive to the Villa d'Este was short, and as she stood on the terrace looking over the tops of the pointed cypresses, Irma admitted that this view alone was worth seeing.

"Ligorio, whom Cardinal Ippolito d'Este employed to construct this villa, was certainly an artist," said Aunt Caroline, "and I am sure it is true that there are few finer Renaissance villas in Italy."

[Ill.u.s.tration: WALL OF ORVIETO.

(_See page 211._)]

[Ill.u.s.tration: CASCADES AT TIVOLI.]

"If only it were not going to ruin so fast. Broken statuary and moss-grown fountains are not very cheerful. But perhaps there are some amusing stories connected with the place. What has the guide been saying to you?" said Uncle Jim.

"Oh, he has been telling me that he is one of the most remarkable guides in Europe, with government certificates and letters of recommendation from innumerable tourists. The German Emperor depended on him, so he says, on his visit two or three years ago, and, ah, yes--"

The guide had brought the party to a stop as he pointed to a stone bench at the end of a path.

"Yes," continued Aunt Caroline, "let us sit down, one by one, for this is the bench on which the Kaiser rested to get full enjoyment of the vista of the house on the terrace at the end of the long avenue of pointed cypresses. But come, he says he has even a finer view to show."

A few minutes' walk brought the party to a wall bounding one side of the garden, whence they had a wide outlook over a flourishing country.

"He says," interpreted Aunt Caroline, "that where that large factory stands was Maecenas's villa, and that Horace also had a farm not far away."

"I could contradict him if it were worth while," said Uncle Jim, "although it is true enough that many eminent Romans, including Augustus himself, had villas in this neighborhood. But there are few sites of which we are sure, except that of Hadrian's villa a hundred years later."

The guide continued to pour out information and misinformation until the party returned to the carriage, and he was even anxious to go with them to Hadrian's villa.

"No, there we shall not need him," said Uncle Jim decidedly. "I have studied the plans, and as we shall not attempt to explore a very large part of the one hundred and seventy-nine acres, I believe I am equal to my task of guide."

Leaving their carriage at the entrance, the party was soon at the custodian's house. Here Aunt Caroline and Irma lingered to compare pictures of Hadrian's villa as it is, with sketches showing the artist's ideal of its original splendor. Other tourists were wandering about the vast ruins, and the custodian was occupied with the first comers.

"Whether a palace or a collection of palaces, it is the most surprising ruin I have ever seen," said Aunt Caroline. "Imagine what it must have been in Hadrian's day! Many of the finest statues now in Rome were unearthed here a few centuries ago, and these mosaic pavements and broken columns give us an idea of the whole. It was really, I suppose, a collection of magnificent buildings with baths and great halls and even quarters for the imperial troops."

Irma, walking about, had a strange feeling of loneliness; she had never seen a building so vast. It brought before her more vividly than anything else she had seen the greatness of the Roman emperors. She wished to be by herself, undisturbed by Aunt Caroline's continuous explanations and Uncle Jim's facetious comments.

"Over there," said Marion, whom she met unexpectedly at a turn, "an opening in the trees gives a fine view of the valley, with Tivoli on the hills beyond."

As Marion did not offer to accompany her to the spot toward which he pointed, Irma went on alone. Uncle Jim and Aunt Caroline were not far away, and would doubtless follow soon enough.

"It was very good in Marion to tell me of this view," thought Irma, as she looked over the valley. "He is getting over his sulkiness."

After waiting a few minutes, longer perhaps than she realized, Irma turned back to the place where Marion had spoken to her. But now there was no one in sight but a distant custodian, who was engrossed by a tourist. "Where is Marion?" thought Irma, "and why did Uncle Jim and Aunt Caroline turn about so quickly?"

At this moment she saw a small cube of green marble in her path. Though it was very like the marble of the pavement on which she stood, she could see no broken place.

"What a perfect paperweight it would make!" she thought. "I couldn't have a finer souvenir from Hadrian's villa."

But as she was about to pick it up, the custodian suddenly turned his head. She wondered if she were doing wrong. Yet the little green cube still fascinated her and she waited until the custodian and the tourist had moved out of sight.

While she waited Irma made a few notes in her book, and when she at last felt that she could safely do it, she picked up the little piece of marble and dropped it in her bag.

But now where should she go? She had a vague idea of the general direction, yet she knew that a wrong turn might lead her far from the entrance. How foolish she had been not to consult the custodian, and all for a wretched piece of marble! For the moment she felt like throwing it away.

The feeling of melancholy she had had since first entering the villa now increased. The sun was low, and as she looked at her watch she saw it was but ten minutes of train time.

"If, by any chance, we should become separated, you and Marion must surely be at the station five minutes before train time," Uncle Jim had said, while they were still in the carriage, pointing out the little structure, where the steam tram for Rome made a stop.

"That is why they went on," thought Irma, "they supposed Marion was with me, and now what _will_ they think?"

Now, strange though it may seem, when the tram pulled away from the little station, Uncle Jim and Aunt Caroline did not realize Irma's absence. After a hurried cup of tea, they had rushed for the cars with a number of other pa.s.sengers.

"Where's Irma?" Aunt Caroline had asked anxiously, as she took her own seat.

"Oh, she's in the next car; I saw Marion helping her on." This was Uncle Jim's honest opinion. But the girl whom Marion was a.s.sisting politely, happened not to be Irma, but another girl of her general appearance, as it seemed to near-sighted Uncle Jim.

Meanwhile Marion, quite unconscious that Irma was not with his uncle and aunt in the forward car, surrendered himself to a book.