The Roman
princesses were not a little talked of up to the end of the thirteenth
century. Under the French rule their gallantry assumed a military
complexion. They used to go and see their admirers play billiards at
the Cafe Nuovo. But hypocrisy and morality have made immense progress
since the restoration. The few who have afforded matter for the
scandalous chronicles of Rome are sexagenarians, and their adventures
are inscribed on the tablets of history, between Austerlitz and
Waterloo.
The young princess whom we have just seen entering upon her married
life, will begin by presenting her husband with sundry little princes
and princesses; and there is no rampart against illicit affection like
your row of little cradles.
In five or six years, when she might have leisure for evil thoughts,
she will be bound hand and foot by the exigencies of society. You
shall have a specimen of the mode in which she spends her days during
the winter season. Her morning is devoted to dressing, breakfasting,
her children, and her husband. From one to three she returns the
visits she has received, in the exact form in which they were paid to
her. The first act of politeness is to go and see your acquaintance;
the second, to leave your card in person; the third, to send the same
bit of pasteboard by a servant _ad hoc_. At three, all the world
drives to the Villa Borghese, where there is a general salutation of
acquaintances with the tips of the fingers.
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