sea_, as she expressed it), and lying in the garden, under the big
myrtle-bushes, and, in spring and summer, under the rose-hedge. The
nuns say that rose-hedge and that myrtle-bush are growing a great deal
too big, one would think from Dionea's lying under them; the fact, I
suppose, has drawn attention to them. "That child makes all the useless
weeds grow," remarked Sister Reparata. Another of Dionea's amusements
is playing with pigeons. The number of pigeons she collects about her
is quite amazing; you would never have thought that San Massimo or the
neighboring hills contained as many. They flutter down like snowflakes,
and strut and swell themselves out, and furl and unfurl their tails,
and peck with little sharp movements of their silly, sensual heads and
a little throb and gurgle in their throats, while Dionea lies stretched
out full length in the sun, putting out her lips, which they come to
kiss, and uttering strange, cooing sounds; or hopping about, flapping
her arms slowly like wings, and raising her little head with much the
same odd gesture as they;--'tis a lovely sight, a thing fit for one of
your painters, Burne Jones or Tadema, with the myrtle-bushes all round,
the bright, white-washed convent walls behind, the white marble chapel
steps (all steps are marble in this Carrara country) and the enamel
blue sea through the ilex-branches beyond. But the good Sisters
abominate these pigeons, who, it appears, are messy little creatures,
and they complain that, were it not that the Reverend Director likes a
pigeon in his pot on a holiday, they could not stand the bother of
perpetually sweeping the chapel steps and the kitchen threshold all
along of those dirty birds....

_August 6, 1882._

Do not tempt me, dearest Excellency, with your invitations to Rome. I
should not be happy there, and do but little honor to your friendship.