exquisite proportions, like the Greek god of love. (Not Cupid with his
vulgar arrows, but the true heavenly Eros. I saw him once in the Museum
at Naples, and again in the Vatican. Is it Love, or Death, or
Immortality? I queried, and then I knew it was the three in one.) I soon
learned that the youth whose ideal beauty had impressed me so strongly
was the Count Francisco de Alvala of Toledo in Spain. I fancy that his
eyes were as easily attracted to beauty as mine, for the next day he was
my _vis-à-vis_ at table; not for the sake of looking at me, I was
well aware, but on account of my beautiful neighbor. However, he sought
my acquaintance with the grave courtesy becoming a grandee of Spain, and
naturally gained that of Miss St. Clair also.

It is the most natural thing in the world to make acquaintances in Rome.
People talk together of the things they have seen or wish to see: they
go to the same places by day, and in the evening they meet in the
ladies' parlor to compare their impressions. The young count never
failed to join us in the evening. He had always something to show
us--prints of his home in Spain, articles of _virtù_ that he had
bought, sketches that he had made, for he was a good amateur artist.

A group of young people of different nations generally collected on
these occasions, and the conversation often turned on the usages
peculiar to their respective countries.

"In Spain I could not greet a lady with a simple good-evening," said the
count. "I should say, 'Permit the humblest of your servants to lay
himself at your feet,' or something like that."

"Why do you not say it to us?" asked a bright-eyed Canadian girl.