half-luminous light showed itself in the western horizon, and seemed to promise a brighter morrow. Crowds of priests, in three-cornered hats, were, with the exception of myself, the only wanderers on Monte Pincio, whence they viewed the festivities in the square, in which they were unable to participate.
Again at home in the twilight. Here I found my
young friend half-beside himherself, with the pleasures
and small adventures of the afternoon, and longing
only for the morrow, when she might again drive out
and skirmish with flowers and comfits on the Corso.
I then shall also take part in the promenade.
Tomorrow is a great masquerade day. May the sun
only shine a little on the sports, “for the sake of the
poor!” It is a good thing that people cannot buy
good weather; they would then run the risk of ruining
themselves out of pure sympathy.
Friday.—Never, surely, has the Roman Carnival had greater trials to go through! Yesterday morning was tolerably fine. There was a little sunshine at noon which brightened the souls of thousands of human beings, who, like Jenny and myself, kept continually directing their glances to the sky. But at half-past two, just when the gay scene commenced earlier than usual, the sky darkened with a desperately determined aspect, as if it would continue so the whole day, and pouring rain began. But the spirit of the Carnival had now taken possession of the inhabitants of Rome. Spite of the drenching rain, the Corso was crowded with all kinds of costumes and masks, in carriages and on foot; and windows, and balconies, and roofs, were thronged with dominoes and fantastic costume; bou-
