[Florence: autumn, 1853.]

My dearest Sarianna,--I shall not be able to write very much to-day, for
Robert is in haste, and we are both overwhelmed with different
engagements, the worst of which have been forced on me _maritally_
rather than artistically by the portrait-sittings he of course has told
you of. His own portrait, by Mr. Reade, I must be glad about, seeing
that though it by no means gives his best expression, the face is
_there_, and it will be the best work extant on the same subject. I only
wish that the artist had been satisfied with it, or taken my Penini in
the second place instead of me, who am not wanted in canvas for art's
sake, or for any other sake in the world. When gone from hence, may
nobody think of me again, except when one or two may think perhaps how I
loved them....

Do you think much of the war? I hope all will be done on the part of the
two western Powers honestly and directly; and then, may the best that
can, come out of the worst that must be. The poor Italians catch like
men in an agony at all these floating straws. We hear that the new
Austrian Commandant has received instructions to hold no intercourse
with members of the English and French Legations till further orders are
received.

We have lived a disturbed life lately; too much coming and going even
with agreeable people. There has been no time for work. In Rome it must
be different, or we shall get on poorly with our books, I think. Robert
seems, however, by his account, to be in an advanced state already....

[_Incomplete._]