t the Neapolitans accept as winter, came on apace. For
some time past the air had been full of that mild chill and vaporous
murkiness, which, not cold enough to be bracing, sensibly lowered the
system and depressed the spirits. The careless and jovial temperament
of the people, however, was never much affected by the change of
seasons--they drank more hot coffee than usual, and kept their feet
warm by dancing from midnight up to the small hours of the morning. The
cholera was a thing of the past--the cleansing of the city, the
sanitary precautions, which had been so much talked about and
recommended in order to prevent another outbreak in the coming year,
were all forgotten and neglected, and the laughing populace tripped
lightly over the graves of its dead hundreds as though they were
odorous banks of flowers. "Oggi! Oggi!" is their cry--to-day, to-day!
Never mind what happened yesterday, or what will happen
to-morrow--leave that to i signori Santi and la Signora Madonna! And
after all there is a grain of reason in their folly, for many of the
bitterest miseries of man grow out of a fatal habit of looking back or
looking forward, and of never living actually in the full-faced
present. Then, too, Carnival was approaching; Carnival, which, though
denuded of many of its best and brightest features, still reels through
the streets of Naples with something of the picturesque madness that in
old times used to accompany its prototype, the Feast of Bacchus. I was
reminded of this coming festivity on the morning of the 21st of
December, when I noted some unusual attempts on the part of Vincenzo to
control his countenance, that often, in spite of his efforts, broadened
into a sunny smile as though some humorous thought had flitted across
his mind. He betrayed himself at last by asking me demurely whether I
purposed taking any part in the carnival? I smiled and shook my head.
Vincenzo looked dubious, but finally summoned up courage to say:

"Will the eccellenza permit--"

"You to make a fool of yourself?" I interrupted, "by all means! Take
your own time, enjoy the fun as much as you please; I promise you I
will ask no account of your actions."

He was much gratified, and attended to me with even more
punctiliousness than usual. As he prepared my breakfast I asked him:

"By the way, when does the carnival begin?"

"On the 26th," he answered, with a slight air of surprise. "Surely the
eccellenza knows."

"Yes, yes," I said,