The Fortnightly Review: No. CCCCLXIII, New Series [‎658r] (206/239)

nostalgia.
175
No air?’ repeated Antonio; “no light? I should have said
just the oppose! Look! there's a garden down there! IndTfs
so dose to my work and in the very centre of the town' ’’
ISo - 1 want windows on the street.”
w ) Ve1 !; ^ h ® n ’ we ’ n look for windows on the street; but mind you
we shan t find a more comfortable little place for our rent.” ^ ’
lou think not? ” she said, unbelievingly.
Soon she was obliged to believe. They spent a fortnight in weary
the Vihf’/'r ^ ft ab0Ut th6 Es( l uiline . Quirinal, and
Ludovi8 ^ an d Eegina, half vexed, half amused, san-
smilingly, Senza tctto e senza cuna (With neither roof-tree nor home) 0
en she became taciturn and very tired, dragging herself along with
n an of desperation. They consulted a house-agent, who proved a
delusion and a snare. He gave them a score of addresses, and they
gradually went up the Corso exploring all the adjacent streets, as a
traveller ascends a river seeking an unknown land and an undiscover-
m T" 6 - ft? 1110 WOuId have P ut U P with a J ong walk to his
office if he could thus have contented Regina; but Regina would not
be contented. All the suites were either too large and costly, or so
cramped and cold that a single glance froze and tightened the heart.
Regina saw one Mczzanino (entresol) of four immense, perfectly dark
rooms, inhabited by what seemed an infinite number of smartly
attired young ladies. It suggested a tomb for the living and she fled
horrified. It was shocking! And this was Rome! These were the
habitations which Rome offered to those who had long dreamed of
her. Tombs for the living, obscure caverns, dens for slaves' A
thousand times preferable the poorest cabins of the villages on the
Po, full of liberty and light!
And still it rained; and Regina, unused to walking, got more and
more tired as she wandered about, seeking a nest in which to fold her
wounded wings. She had lost her looks, and was thin and pale; as
the days passed on she became irritable. Sometimes she looked at
Antonio with mocking commiseration. Was there anything more
ridiculous than a fine young man dragged round by an ugly little
wife, on the search for lodgings at fifty lire a month? What a
wretched business was civilisation! She gazed enviously at the
passers by, thinking feverishly: —
They know where to go! They have houses even if they are
dens, and needn’t traipse about the street like us looking for a refuge.
We are stray dogs, unable to find a hole to die in! ”
And she looked yearningly at inaccessible country houses, thinking
bitterly,
“ I, too, had a home—a home full of poetry and light. I shut
myself out with my own hands, and never, never will it be mine
again ! ”
At this thought tears welled into her eyes. Weary and silent
she stepped along at her husband’s side, and Antonio looked at
her with pity, guessing the cause of her discontent. There were