RODERICK HUDSON
The Pope had given him the cold shoulder, but since he had not prospered as a diplomatist he had sought compensation as a man of the world, and his great flamboyant curricle and negro lackeys were for several weeks one of the striking ornaments of the Pincian. He spoke a queer jargon of Italian, Spanish, French, English, American, humorously relieved with scraps of ecclesiastical Latin, and to those who enquired of Roderick what he found to interest him in so "dreadful" a type, the latter would reply, looking at his interlocutor with his lucid blue eyes, that he had a beautiful freedom of mind. The two had gone together one night to a ball given by a lady of some renown in the Spanish colony, and very late, on his way home, Roderick came up to Rowland's rooms, in the windows of which he had seen a light. Rowland was going to bed, but Roderick flung himself into an arm-chair and chattered for an hour. The friends of the tropical envoy were as amusing as himself, and very much in the same line. The mistress of the house had worn a yellow satin dress and gold heels to her slippers, and at the close of the entertainment had sent for a pair of castanets, tucked up her petticoats and danced a fandango, while the gentlemen sat cross-legged on the floor. "It was awfully low," Roderick said; "all of a sudden I perceived it and bolted. Nothing of that kind ever amuses me to the end; before it's half over it bores me to death; it makes me sick. Hang it, why can't a poor fellow enjoy things in peace? My illusions are all broken-winded; they won't carry me twenty paces. I can't laugh and for-
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