January 25 Wednesday – At 21 Fifth Ave. in N.Y.C. Sam wrote to Susan Crane.

This is the first day in five & a half weeks that I have not spent in bed. I bundled myself up, this morning & hobbled downstairs. The sitting room & dining room looked just like the Hartford home, with the folding doors spread open. It broke my heart, for there was not a thing visible anywhere that had not been made holy by the touch of Livy’s hand. Thousands of times her dear eyes had looked upon those things, & each & all of them spoke to me, & bore testimony to her unchallengeable taste & her love for the exquisite & the beautiful.

I sat & looked out at the storm & listened four hours while Miss Lyon played on the orchestrelle, I choosing the pieces—dirges, funeral marches, and—saddest of all—wedding marches. The wedding is never otherwise than a tragic event, and all present should be clothed in black, & upon the wedding-bell should be written “A day is coming when one of these hearts shall break.” I came up at mid-afternoon, & have been in bed ever since. I expect to be up a while to-morrow again.

Clara’s splendid cat [Bambino] is on the bed by me. He has been telephoned for, & Katy will take him in a coupè to-morrow for an hour’s visit with Clara. After this he is to go to her once a week for an indefinite period. He is the liveliest company & the best that ever was. Katy detests cats, but she is the bond slave of this one.

It was a pathetic tale—that one about God using a minister & a church as instruments to rob that poor old lady. But I am done wondering at the things He does.

Love & good night dear Sue. / Samuel /(Called by many The Holy.) / I hope Charley is not out in this storm, but I fear he is [MTP].

Isabel Lyon’s journal: This morning as I was telephoning to Santissima’s nurse, Mr. Clemens appeared in the lower hall, and when we went into the library I played for him on the Aeolian— played 15 numbers. After lunch I played again. I was playing Bach when I turned to find him sitting near me. I had supposed he was in the dining room watching the fierce storm that is raging—but he wasn’t. He sat there with a most beautiful look in his face. Rapt, satisfied, peaceful and beautiful. Today is the first day that I haven’t seen Mother [MTP: TS 38]. Journal #2: “Blizzard. / Today Mr. Clemens came down stairs for first time in 5½ weeks. / Ugo left Mr. Clemens’s service today [MTP TS 2-3]. Note: Ugo Piemontini

Sebastiano V. Cecchi wrote to Sam, having rec’d Miss Lyon’s letter the day before. “The Manhattan people have also notified our payment of $800 which I have placed to your credit.” He hoped Sam was not ailing any longer, and passed along some local happenings, including Sam’s old landlady: “I suppose the Contessa [Countess Massiglia] never thought that she was riding for a fall, at the time: she seems now to realize her position fully, and fear has knocked her nervous system to pieces. / I haven’t seen Luchini for some time but I expect he keeps you informed of how the case is going on” [MTP].