Your ever most affectionate
E.B.B.

* * * * *


_To Miss I. Blagden_

Casa Tolomei, Alia Villa, Bagni di Lucca:
July 26, [1853].

I deserve another scold for this other silence, dearest Isa. Scold as
softly as you can! We have been in uncertainty about leaving
Florence--where to go for the summer--and I did not like to write till I
could tell you where to write to _me_. Now we are 'fixed,' as our
American friends would say. We have taken this house for three months--a
larger house than we need. We have a row of plane trees before the door
in which the cicale sing all day, and the beautiful mountains stand
close around, keeping us fresh with shadows. Penini thinks he is in
Eden--_at least he doesn't think otherwise_. We have a garden and an
arbour, and the fireflies light us up at nights. With all this, I am
sorry for Florence. Florence was horribly hot, and pleasant
notwithstanding. We hated cutting the knot of friends we had
there--bachelor friends, Isa, who came to us for coffee and smoking! I
was gracious and permitted the cigar (as you were not present), and
there were quantities of talk, controversy, and confidences evening
after evening. One of our very favourite friends, Frederick Tennyson, is
gone to England, or was to have gone, for three months. Mr. Lytton had a
reception on the terrace of his villa at Bellosguardo the evening before