and she stretched out her arm, with an impulsive gesture, as she spoke.

I perceived a sudden recoil, at the instant, of her dilating form, and, before I could devise an explanation, heard the words, "You are my prisoner, madam," and discovered a gentleman standing in the deep shadow of the pillar, close at her side, busily endeavoring to disentangle the fringe of her shawl from the b.u.t.tons of his coat.

I remembered, afterwards, having noticed in pa.s.sing, sometime before, a shadowy figure standing with folded arms and upturned face, half lost in the deep shadow of a pillar, apparently quite unconscious of the vicinity of the chattering ephemera fluttering by his retreat. I at once surmised that Grace and I had approached from the other side, and inadvertently stationed ourselves near this aesthetical devotee--so near that your cousin, in the excitement of her eloquence, had fastened a la.s.so upon the dress of the stranger.

"You are my prisoner, madam," he said, in French. The words were simple enough, not so apposite but that many an one might have uttered them under similar circ.u.mstances. Yet they were replete with meaning, conveyed by the subtle aid of intonation and of _manner_. The most chivalrous courtesy, the most exquisite refinement, were fully expressed in that brief sentence.

"I have no fears either for my purse, or my life," returned the quick-witted lady thus addressed, aiding in the required disentanglement.

"You need have none," rejoined the gentleman, "though the laws of chivalry ent.i.tle me to demand a goodly ransom for so fair a prize"--glancing politely towards me.

"Accept, at least, the poor guerdon of this token of my thanks," said the enthusiast of the moment, tendering a beautiful flower, which was opportunely loosened from her bosom by the slight derangement of her dress.

"It will be a treasured memento," answered the stranger, receiving the proffered gift with graceful respect, and, bowing with the most courtly deference, he walked rapidly away, as loth, by lingering one needless moment, to seem intrusive.

"What a voice!" exclaimed Grace, as the retreating figure disappeared behind the fragment of a fallen column, "blithe as the matin tone of a lark, and"----

"Clear as the note of the clarion that startled you so upon the Appian Way, the other day," I suggested, "and indeed, I am not sure that there was not a little tremor in your fingers, this time, my brave lady, and that you did not hold just a little tighter fast the arm of your old uncle."

"What nonsense, Uncle Hal!--could anything be more delicately rea.s.suring--admitting that I was startled, at first,--than the whole bearing of the gentleman?"

"Should you know him again?" I questioned.

"I think I should, were it only by the diamond he wore," she replied, with a little laugh at the woman's reason. "Did you observe it uncle, as his macintosh was opened by the pulling of that silly fringe--really it might grace the crescent of Dian herself, on a gala-night--it was a young star! but I also saw his face distinctly as he raised his hat."

Well, now for the _denoument_ of my story--for every romantic adventure should properly have a _denoument_.

As we were all riding on the Campagna a few days afterwards, the usual intimation was given of the approach of the _cortege_ of the Pope. Of course we went through the mummery of withdrawing, while the poor old man was hurried along in his airing. Standing thus together, a party of gentlemen rode rapidly up, and, recognizing some of our party, joined us.

Scarcely were the usual greetings over, when Grace, reining her horse near me, said, in a low tone: "Uncle, there is the 'bright particular star' of the other night in the Coliseum; I know I am not mistaken."

And so it proved--the polished, graceful stranger was not a Prince _incognito_, not even an acreless count, whose best claim to respect consisted in hereditary t.i.tles and courtly manners, but a _young American artist_, full of activity, enthusiasm and genius, who had not forgotten to give beauty to the casket, because it enshrined a gem of high value.

_Apropos_ of gems--I afterwards learned that the superb brilliant he always wore on his breast was a token of the grat.i.tude of a distinguished and munificent patron and friend, for whom this child of feeling and genius had successfully incarnated all that was earthly of one loved and lost.

We subsequently became well acquainted with our gifted countryman, and a right good fellow he proved. We met him constantly in society, while at Florence--the Italian _Paradise of Americans_, as Miss ---- always called it--where his genial manners, the type of a genial nature, made him a general favorite, as well with natives as foreigners.

Soon after he was named to me that day on the Campagna, your cousin, who had again moved from my side, turned her face towards us. The movement arrested the attention of my companion--he glanced inquiringly at me.

"I think I am not mistaken, sir; have we not met before?" and the same exquisite courtesy illumined his face that had so impressed me previously. "May I ask the honor of a presentation to my sometime prisoner?"

"Really, sir," I overheard Grace confessing, in her sprightliest tones, as, the two parties uniting for the nonce, we all rode on together; "really, sir, I remember to have been secretly rejoiced at having left my heart, watch, and other valuables, safely locked up at home, when I found myself in such a dangerous-looking neighborhood."

"And _I_ still indulge the regret that my profession did not fully ent.i.tle me to retain possession, not only of the shawl, which, no doubt, was a camel's hair of unknown value, but of the embodied poetry it enwrapped."

"You seem quite to overlook the fact that I was guarded, like a damsel of old, by a doughty knight."

I wish I could half describe the dextrous twirl of the moustache, and the quickly-shadowed brow that suddenly transformed that luminous and honest face into that of the dark, moody brigand, as, fumbling in his bosom the while, as about to unsheath a dagger, he growled, in mock-heroic manner--"It were easy to find means to silence such an opponent, with such a reward in view!"

The merry laugh with which Grace received this sally, proved that she, at least, liked the _versatility of manner_ possessed by her gallant attendant.

Touching the electric chain of memory, causes another link to vibrate, and I am reminded of my promise, made in a former letter, to tell you about the American girl whose beautiful arm threw Powers into raptures.

You will, perhaps, recollect that I alluded to my having met abroad the heroine of the _cornelian pate_ anecdote. I a.s.sure you, I had ample occasion, more than once, to be proud of my lovely countrywoman, in the most distinguished European circles--and by that term I do not refer to distinction created by mere rank. But to my tale:

One day, during our mutual sojourn in her well-named Italian "Paradise,"

Miss ----, and her father, in accordance with a previous arrangement, called at my lodgings, to take me with them to a dinner at the Palace de ----.

"I propose, as we have purposely come early, Col. Lunettes, in the hope of finding you at leisure, that we shall drop in at Powers' studio, a few minutes; it is in our direct way, and he will be there, as I happen to know. I so wish to know your impression of papa's bust."

While I was enjoying a chat with the presiding genius of the scene, a little apart from a group gathered about some object of peculiar interest, a sudden glow of enthusiasm lighted his eye, as with Promethean fire.

"Heavens, what an arm!" exclaimed Powers. "Oh, for the art to _petrify_ it!" he added, with an expressive gesture, the _furore_ of the artist rapidly enkindling.

Following the direction of his glance, I beheld what might well excite admiration in a less discriminating spectator. The velvet mantle that had shrouded the gala dress of Miss ---- having fallen from her shoulders, disclosed the delicate beauty of the uncovered arm and hand, which she was eagerly extending towards the marble before her.

"Remain just as you now stand, for a moment," said I, "and let me see what I can do for you."

"Miss ----," I asked, advancing towards my fair friend, "will you let me invite your attention to this new study? It is ent.i.tled 'The Artist's Prayer,' and is supposed to impersonate the pet.i.tion, 'Petrify it, O, ye G.o.ds!'"

Of course, this led to a brief and laughing explanation.

"Happily, no earthly Powers can achieve that transformation!" exclaimed the Lucifer of the Coliseum, who was present, "but all will join in the entreaty that we may be permitted to possess an _imitation_ of so beautiful an original."

I am not permitted to disclose the secrets of the inner temple; but many of you will yet behold the loveliness that so charmed the lovers of art, moulded into eternal marble.

LETTER VI.

MANNER, CONTINUED.

RULES FOR VISITING, AND FOR MANNER IN SOCIETY GENERALLY.

MY DEAR NEPHEWS:

Having attempted, in my last two letters, with what success you will best judge, to give you some practical hints respecting manner at home and in the street, suppose we take up, next, the consideration of the conduct proper in _Visiting_, and on public occasions, generally.

Among the minor obligations of social life, perhaps few things are regarded as more formidable by the unpractised, than ceremonious _morning visits to ladies_. And perhaps, among the simple occurrences of ordinary existence, few serve more fully to ill.u.s.trate individual tact, self-possession, and conversational skill.

Without aiming at much method in so doing, I will endeavor to furnish you with a few directions of general applicability.

Hours for making morning calls are somewhat varied by place and circ.u.mstance; but, as a rule, twelve o'clock is the earliest hour at which it is admissible to make a visit of ceremony. From that time until near the prevailing dinner-hour, in a small town, or that known to be such in particular instances, one may suit one's convenience.

It is obviously unsuitable, usually, to prolong an interview of this kind beyond a very moderate length, and hence, as well as for other reasons, the conversation should be light, varied, and appropriate to outward circ.u.mstances.