erect; he came out suddenly from a doorway, looked to
the right and left in evident fear of being made a mark for 'confetti,'
crossed the street hurriedly and disappeared--not at all the
silver-haired, priestly figure the world knew so well in later days. And
by and by the Prince of Wales came by in a simple open carriage, a thin
young man in a black coat, with a pale, face and a quiet smile, looking
all about him with an almost boyish interest, and bowing to the right
and left.

Then in deep contrast of sadness, out of the past years comes a great
funeral by night, down the Corso; hundreds of brown, white-bearded
friars, two and two with huge wax candles, singing the ancient chant of
the penitential psalms; hundreds of hooded lay brethren of the
Confraternities, some in black, some in white, with round holes for
their eyes that flashed through, now and then, in the yellow glare of
the flaming tapers; hundreds of little street boys beside them in the
shadow, holding up big horns of grocers' paper to catch the dripping
wax; and then, among priests in cotta and stole, the open bier carried
on men's shoulders, and on it the peaceful figure of a dead girl,
white-robed, blossom crowned, delicate as a frozen flower in the cold
winter air. She had died of an innocent love, they said, and she was
borne in through the gates of the Santi Apostoli to her rest in the
solemn darkness. Nor has anyone been buried in that way since then.

[Illustration: SAN LORENZO IN LUCINA]

In the days of Paul the Second, what might be called living Rome, taken
in the direction of the Corso, began at the Arch of Marcus Aurelius,
long attributed to Domitian, which stood at the corner of the small
square called after San Lorenzo in Lucina. Beyond that point, northwards
and eastwards, the city was a mere desert, and on the west side the
dwelling-houses fell away towards the Mausoleum of Augustus, the
fortress of the Colonna. The arch itself used to be called the Arch of
Portugal, because a Portuguese Cardinal, Giovanni da Costa, lived in the
Fiano palace at the corner of the Corso. No one would suppose that very
modern-looking building, with its smooth front and conventional
balconies, to be six hundred years old, the ancient habitation of all
the successive Cardinals of Saint Lawrence. Its only other interest,
perhaps, lies in the fact that it formed part of the great estates
bestowed by Sixtus the Fifth on his nephews, and was nevertheless sold
ov