ally stones. For the boys and striplings, always a strong element
in Florentine crowds, became at the height of Carnival-time as loud and
unmanageable as tree-crickets, and it was their immemorial privilege to
bar the way with poles to all passengers, until a tribute had been paid
towards furnishing those lovers of strong sensations with suppers and
bonfires: to conclude with the standing entertainment of stone-throwing,
which was not entirely monotonous, since the consequent maiming was
various, and it was not always a single person who was killed. So that
the pleasures of the Carnival were of a checkered kind, and if a painter
were called upon to represent them truly, he would have to make a
picture in which there would be so much grossness and barbarity that it
must be turned with its face to the wall, except when it was taken down
for the grave historical purpose of justifying a reforming zeal which,
in ignorance of the facts, might be unfairly condemned for its
narrowness. Still there was much of that more innocent picturesque
merriment which is never wanting among a people with quick animal
spirits and sensitive organs: there was not the heavy sottishness which
belongs to the thicker northern blood, nor the stealthy fierceness which
in the more southern regions of the peninsula makes the brawl lead to
the dagger-thrust.

It was the high morning, but the merry spirits of the Carnival were
still inclined to lounge and recapitulate the last night's jests, when
Tito Melema was walking at a brisk pace on the way to the Via de' Bardi.
Young Bernardo Dovizi, who now looks at us out of Raphael's portrait as
the keen-eyed Cardinal da Bibbiena, was with him; and, as they went,
they held animated talk about some subject that had evidently no
relation to the sights and sounds through which they were pushing their
way along the Por' Santa Maria. Nevertheless, as they discussed,
smiled, and gesticulated, they both, from time to time, cast quick
glances around them, and at the turning towards the Lung' Arno, leading
to the Ponte Rubaconte, Tito had become aware, in one of these rapid
surveys, that there was some one not far off him by whom he very much
desired not to be recognised at that moment. His time and thoughts were
thoroughly preoccupied, for he was looking forward to a unique occasion
in his life: he was preparing for his betrothal, which was to take place
on the evening of this very day. The ceremony had been reso