nt
down-stairs to turn over my stock of finery as lovingly as possible.




CHAPTER XVIII.

   Volunnia's inquisitiveness—Her strictures on English
     propriety—The Marchesa Silvia's dread of heretics—The
     dinner—The Marchesa Gentilina knits stockings and talks
     politics.


I was very much diverted, during the investigation of my wardrobe, at
noticing how keenly Volunnia eyed the make and quality of my garments,
as if furnishing some clue to my position in society; still further
to elucidate which, she proceeded to a diligent cross-examination
respecting my birth, parentage, and the reasons which had brought me so
far from my own country.

Strange as it may seem, there was nothing I felt disposed to take
offence at in these interrogatories. They showed so much ignorance
of the world beyond the narrow limits in which she lived; so
much curiosity to learn something of a country that, despite her
school-learning, was almost as much an Ultima Thule to her as to her
Roman ancestors; and displayed besides so amusingly the impression
left upon foreigners by some of our everyday customs, that I should
have been foolishly sensitive, as well as have deprived myself of a
good deal of entertainment, had I resented Volunnia's inquiries, or her
comments upon my answers. But I was evidently an enigma to her, which
it would have required a second Œdipus to unravel.

“_Ma, ma_,” she said at length, as if musing upon the subject—“when
you return to England, will it not hinder your ever marrying to have it
said that you have been abroad, away from your nearest relations?—and
who, after all, will be able to certify where? _We_, in these parts,
know and respect your uncle and his family, and can answer for their
manner of life; but supposing a _partito_ in your own country is
found for you, might not injurious inferences be drawn from your long
absence? Who will vouch for your having been really under the care of
your uncle, or furnish proofs of his excellence and fitness for the
charge?”

I had not wei