My dearest Papa,

How is old Schenectady? I imagine it is awfully quiet with everyone here in Europe, but you mustn't envy me. You cannot imagine how dreadfully particular everybody is here. Heaven forbid a lady walks with the same gentleman twice. She may just as well have married herself off, or so says society here. Respectability and decorum demands that one registers no difference! But oh, papa, the injustice! There are certainly many fine gentlemen here in Rome, and one must be a fool not to make their acquaintance, whatever may please those grande dames to say. Mr. Eugenio is very nice. I shall not bore you with the details as I know you must be terribly occupied with your bonds and contracts and important men. I will just say that one could not wish for a better cicerone! He has no designs on me for marriage, which is a pleasant change from the swarm in New York.  

You might sooner or later hear about Mr. Winterbourne, from Mama or Randolph if he is ever persuaded to still himself for a quarter of an hour to write. Winterborne is handsome and pretends to be very civil, but I know perfectly well he monitors me as fodder for gossip, and perhaps because he is jealous besides. It is really too foolish. We only went to an old chateau together in Vevey and he takes it upon himself to be my chaperone! He has no claim whatsoever.

As I have said, Randolph is behaving outrageously and refuses to listen to anybody, as usual, though I confess I have not much time to manage him, being so often engaged with society here. I cannot say if I miss New York society so very much, though Rome is also so terribly watchful. I shall make up my mind soon and tell you when I do.

Your affectionate daughter,
Daisy