g each other
by the hands so as not to get lost; all crowded and pressed, so that it
seemed strange they were able to walk; and yet only a monotonous murmur
like a buzz was to be heard--not a sound on either side of the street,
not a sound from the windows. It was a solemn sight: what with surprise
and awe I was in a trance."

"But where were they going?" asked the father, mother and sisters
eagerly.

"Let me finish," resumed the young man. "I was turned off in the mean
while, and with me gradually all those who were leaning against the wall
right and left were turned off also. Fancy what a tight squeeze! The
crowd was just like a torrent, filling both pavements, pouring people
like rushing waves into the shops, to the gates, wherever an inch of
room could be found. As the procession advanced more swarms of people
streamed into the Corso from the side streets, which were also thronged
from end to end; and the procession continued to ascend from the
Campidoglio, and the rumor spread that thousands more were coming from
Campo Vaccino. Numbers of people arrived from the Piazza di Spagna, from
the Via del Babbuino, from the Piazza del Popolo. All had something in
their hands--some garlands of flowers, some olive and laurel branches,
some banners, some rags tied on the top of sticks; some carried in both
hands sacred images over their heads--inscriptions, emblems, portraits
of the pope, of the king, of the princes and of Garibaldi. It was a
mixture, a medley, a confusion of persons and things, such as I believe
has never been seen under the sun; and always and everywhere that
subdued murmur, that slow pace, that repose, that dignity, so singular
and astonishing in such a multitude that I thought I must be dreaming."

The whole family pressed closer round the young man without speaking a
word.

"At a certain point I perceived that the crowd had turned to the left:
all fell back. Slowly, slowly, with great difficulty, trampled upon,
crushed, jostled on all sides, unable to move their arms, panting for
breath, they pressed on from street to street to the piazza in front of
the bridge of St. Angelo. The bridge was overflowing with people: the
crowd disappeared across the river in the direction of St. Peter's. The
whole right bank was swarming. The passage of the bridge was a serious
matter: it took more than a quarter of an hour. The unfortunate
creatures who were at the sides, pressed by those in the middle, clung
desperat