Through all the days of Carnival, when 1 rode



200 Reveries OF a Bachelor.
pelted with confetti^ and pelting back, my eyes used to
wander up, from a long way off, to that tall house
upon the Corso, where I was sure to meet, again and
again, those forgiving eyes, and that soft brown hair,
all gathered under the little brown sombrero, set off
with one pure white plume. And her hand full of
bon-bons, she would shake at me threateningly ; and
laugh — a musical laugh — as I bowed my head to the
apsault, and recovering from the shower of missiles,
.' would turn to throw my stoutest bouquet at her bal-

j cony. At night, I would bear home to the Roman

parlor, my best trophy of the day, as a guerdon for
Enrica ; and Enrica would be sure to render in
acknowledgment, some carefully hidden flowers, the
prettiest that her beauty had won.
Sometimes upon those Carnival nights, she- arrayd
herself in the costume of the Albanian water-carriers ;
and nothing, one would think could be prettier, than
the laced crimson jacket, and the strange head gear
with its trinkets, and the short skirts leaving to view
as delicate an ankle as could be found in Rome.
