“Wait a minute.  I went back to the Corso.  As I approached it I heard a deep, continuous murmur of voices, growing louder and louder, like the noise of a great crowd.  The Corso was full of people, all standing still and facing toward the Capitol, as though they expected something to come from that direction.  From the Piazza del Popolo to the Piazza di Venezia they were jammed so tight that nobody could budge.  I heard whispers flying about:  ’Now they’re coming!’—­’They’re coming from over there!’—­ ’Who’s coming?’—­’The main column—­here’s the main column!’—­’Here it is!’—­’No, it isn’t!’—­’Yes, it is!’ All at once there was a stir in the crowd, and a big shout, ‘Here they are!’ and down the middle of the street a wide passageway seemed to open of itself, as though to make room for a procession.  Every head was uncovered.  I fought my way through from the outer edge of the crowd, to get a look at what was coming.  I can feel the shiver down my back now!  First, a lot of generals in full uniform, and gentlemen in civilian’s dress, with the tri-colored scarf; in the midst of them, girls, women, and ragged, tattered men; workmen, peasants, women with babies, soldiers of all arms; smartly dressed ladies, students, whole families clutching hold of each other’s hands, for fear of getting lost in the crowd; all jammed together, trampled upon, so that they could barely move; and with it all not a sound but a buzzing, monotonous murmur; silence on both sides of the street; silence in the windows.  It was awfully solemn; half strange and half fearful.  I felt as if I were in a trance.”

“But where were they going to?” his parents and sisters interposed with growing impatience.

“Wait a bit!” he returned.  “I fought my way into the thick of it, with the crowds on both sides of the street piling in on top of me.  Lord, what a crush!  They spread out like a torrent, pouring into every cranny, sweeping people on ahead of them, into shop-doors, into the court-yards of houses, wherever there was a yard of vacant space.  As we went on, other streams of people kept surging into the Corso from all the side streets, which were just as closely packed; on we swept from the Capitol; and they said that there were thousands more in the Forum.  Hordes kept pouring in from the Piazza di Spagna, from the Via del Babbuino, from the Piazza del Popolo.  Every one had something in his hand:  a wreath of flowers, a branch of olive or laurel, a banner, a rag tied to a stick.  Some carried holy images uplifted above their heads; inscriptions, emblems, pictures of the Pope, of the King, of the Princes, of Garibaldi; never under the sun was there such a medley and confusion of people and things!  And all the while only that low murmur, and the great multitude moving on with a calmness, a dignity that seemed miraculous.  I felt as though I were dreaming!”