start at half-past
five.

It was intensely cold, and the poor Professor wandered anxiously around
the ungainly carriage, stamping his feet to warm them, until presently
another traveller said jestingly to him: "Cool, is it not?" "Just a
little fresh! Just a little fresh!" The horses were harnessed at last,
an employe called the passengers by name, and the worthy Beniamino
disappeared within the bowels of the huge vehicle, together with two
priests, an old woman servant, an elderly gentleman with an enormous
wart on his face, and a fashionably dressed young man. The doors were
closed, an order was given, the bells jingled, the huge vehicle shook
itself, the priests, the old woman, and the gentleman with the wart
crossed themselves, the horses' sixteen hoofs rattled under the portal,
the massive wheels rumbled through it, and then all this noise grew
fainter as the coach turned to the right, towards Porta Romana.

Now the wheels revolved almost noiselessly, and the travellers heard
only the irregular beat of the sixteen hoofs on the stones. The
Professor watched the passing of dark houses, the pale glow of
infrequent street lamps, the flashing light from some small
coffee-house, or a vanishing sentry-box.

It seemed to him that the presence of these soldiers lent something
threatening, something so formidable to the silence of the great city,
that the very walls of the houses were black with hatred. When the coach
entered the Corso di Porta Romana, so filled with fog that he could
hardly see out of the window, he closed his eyes, and gave himself up to
the pleasure of thinking of and conversing with the things and persons
that filled his heart.

It was no longer the passenger with the wart who sat opposite him, but
Donna Ester, all enveloped in a great black cape, a broad-brimmed hat
upon her head. She was looking at him fixedly, and her lovely eyes were
saying: "Well done! You are acting nobly! Showing a great heart. I would
not have believed it! I admire you! To me you are no longer old and
ugly. Courage!" At this exhortation to have courage, he was seized with
fear, for the image of the Marchesa rose before him, and the dull rumble
of the wheels became the old lady's nasal voice, saying: "Won't you sit
down? What can I do for you?"

At this point the coach stopped and the Professor opened his eyes. Porta
Romana. An official opened the door and asked for the passports and
having collected them, carried them away.