b.u.t.tONS A MAN OF ONE IDEA.--d.i.c.k AND HIS MEASURING TAPE.--DARK EYES.

--SUSCEPTIBLE HEART.--YOUNG MAIDEN WHO LIVES OUT OF TOWN.--GRAND COLLISION OF TWO ABSTRACTED LOVERS IN THE PUBLIC STREETS.

Too much blame can not be given to b.u.t.tons for his behavior at this period. He acted as though the whole motive of his existence was to find the Francias. To this he devoted his days, and of this he dreamed at night. He deserted his friends. Left to themselves, without his moral influence to keep them together and give aim to their efforts, each one followed his own inclination.

Mr. Figgs spent the whole of his time in the Cafe Nuovo, drawing out plans of dinners for each successive day. The Doctor, after sleeping till noon, lounged on the Pincian Hill till evening, when he joined Mr. Figgs at dinner. The Senator explored every nook and corner of Rome. At first d.i.c.k accompanied him, but gradually they diverged from one another in different paths. The Senator visited every place in the city, peered into dirty houses, examined pavements, investigated fountains, stared hard at the beggars, and looked curiously at the Swiss Guard in the Pope's Palace. He soon became known to the lower cla.s.ses, who recognized with a grin the tall foreigner that shouted queer foreign words and made funny gestures.

d.i.c.k lived among churches, palaces, and ruins. Tired at length of wandering, he attached himself to some artists, in whose studios he pa.s.sed the greater part of his afternoons. He became personally acquainted with nearly every member of the fraternity, to whom he endeared himself by the excellence of his tobacco, and his great capacity for listening. Your talkative people bore artists more than any others.

"What a lovely girl! What a look she gave!"

Such was the thought that burst upon the soul of d.i.c.k, after a little visit to a little church that goes by the name of Saint Somebody _ai quattri fontani_. He had visited it simply because he had heard that its dimensions exactly correspond with those of each of the chief piers that support the dome of Saint Peter's. As he wished to be accurate, he had taken a tape-line, and began stretching it from the altar to the door. The astonished priests at first stood paralyzed by his sacrilegious impudence, but finally, after a consultation, they came to him and ordered him to be gone. d.i.c.k looked up with mild wonder. They indignantly repeated the order.

d.i.c.k was extremely sorry that he had given offense. Wouldn't they overlook it? He was a stranger, and did not know that they would be unwilling. However, since he had begun, he supposed they would kindly permit him to finish.

--"They would kindly do no such thing," remarked one of the priests, brusquely. "Was their church a common stable or a wine-shop that he should presume to molest them at their services? If he had no religion, could he not have courtesy; or, if he had no faith himself, could he not respect the faith of others?"

d.i.c.k felt abashed. The eyes of all the worshipers were on him, and it was while rolling up his tape that his eyes met the glance of a beautiful Italian girl, who was kneeling opposite. The noise had disturbed her devotions, and she had turned to see what it was. It was a thrilling glance from deep black l.u.s.trous...o...b.., in which there was a soft and melting languor which he could not resist. He went out dazzled, and so completely bewildered that he did not think of waiting. After he had gone a few blocks he hurried back. She had gone.

However, the impression of her face remained.

He went so often to the little church that the priests noticed him; but finding that he was quiet and orderly they were not offended. One of them seemed to think that his rebuke had awakened the young foreigner to a sense of higher things; so he one day accosted him with much politeness. The priest delicately brought forward the claims of religion. d.i.c.k listened meekly. At length he asked the priest if he recollected a certain young girl with beautiful face, wonderful eyes, and marvellous appearance that was worshiping there on the day that he came to measure the church.

"Yes," said the priest, coldly.

Could he tell her name and where she lived?

"Sir," said the priest, "I had hoped that you came here from a higher motive. It will do you no good to know, and I therefore decline telling you."

d.i.c.k begged most humbly, but the priest was inexorable. At last d.i.c.k remembered having heard that an Italian was const.i.tutionally unable to resist a bribe. He thought he might try. True, the priest was a gentleman; but perhaps an Italian gentleman was different from an English or American; so he put his hand in his pocket and blushing violently, brought forth a gold piece of about twenty dollars value.

He held it out. The priest stared at him with a look that was appalling.

"If you know--" faltered d.i.c.k--"any one--of course I don't mean yourself--far from it--but--that is--"

"Sir," cried the priest, "who are you? Are there no bounds to your impudence? Have you come to insult me because I am a priest, and therefore can not revenge myself? Away!"

The priest choked with rage. d.i.c.k walked out. Bitterly he cursed his wretched stupidity that had led him to this. His very ears tingled with shame as he saw the full extent of the insult that he had offered to a priest and a gentleman. He concluded to leave Rome at once.

But at the very moment when he had made this desperate resolve he saw some one coming. A sharp thrill went through his heart.

It was SHE! She looked at him and glanced modestly away. d.i.c.k at once walked up to her.

"Signorina," said he, not thinking what a serious thing it was to address an Italian maiden in the streets. But this one did not resent it. She looked up and smiled. "What a smile!" thought d.i.c.k.

"Signorina," he said again, and then stopped, not knowing what to say. His voice was very tremulous, and the expression of his face tender and beseeching. His eyes told all.

"Signore," said the girl, with a sweet smile. The smile encouraged d.i.c.k.

"Ehem--I have lost my way. I--I--could you tell me how I could get to Piazza del Popolo? I think I might find my way home from there."

The girl's eyes beamed with a mischievous light.

"Oh yes, most easily. You go down that street; when you pa.s.s four side-streets you turn; to the left--the left--remember, and then you keep on till you come to a large church with a fountain before it, then you turn round that, and you see the obelisk of the Piazza del Popolo."

Her voice was the sweetest that d.i.c.k had ever heard. He listened as he would listen to music, and did not hear a single word that he comprehended.

"Pardon me," said he, "but would you please to tell me again. I can not remember all. Three streets?"

The girl laughed and repeated it

d.i.c.k sighed.

"I'm a stranger here, and am afraid that I can not find my way. I left my map at home. If I could find some one who would go with me and show me."

He looked earnestly at her, but she modestly made a movement to go.

"Are you in a great hurry?" said he.

"No, Signore," replied the girl, softly.

"Could you--a--a--would you be willing--to--to--walk a little part of the way with me, and--show me a very little part of the way--only a very little?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: Away!]

The girl seemed half to consent, but modestly hesitated, and a faint flush stole over her face.

"Ah do!" said d.i.c.k. He was desperate.

"It's my only chance," thought he.

The girl softly a.s.sented and walked on with him.

"I am very much obliged to you for your kindness," said d.i.c.k. "It's very hard for a stranger to find his way in Rome."

"But, Signore, by this time you ought to know the whole of our city."

"What? How?"

"Why, you have been here three weeks at least."

"How do you know?" and the young man blushed to his eyes. He had been telling lies, and she knew it all the time.

"Oh, I saw you once in the church, and I have seen you with that tall man. Is he your father?"

"No, only a friend."