It is a wonderfully beautiful city; and wonderfully cold considering the climate we came from.

Think of our finding ourselves forced into winter suits, and looking wistfully at the grate.

I did so this morning.
But now there is sunshine.
We had a prosperous journey, except the sea voyage which prostrated all of us--_Annunziata_, to 'the lowest deep' of misery.

At Marseilles we slept, and again at Lyons and Dijon, taking express trains the whole way, so that there was as little fatigue as possible; and what with the reviving change of air and these precautions, I felt less tired throughout the journey than I have sometimes felt at Florence after a long drive and much talking.

We had scarcely any companions in the carriages, and were able to stretch to the full longitude of us--a comfort always; and I had 'Madame Ancelot,' and 'Doit et Avoir,' which dropped into my bag from Isa's kind fingers on the last evening, and we gathered 'Galignanis' and 'Illustrations' day by day.