its distant radiance of fairyland.

But it was necessary to come back from the Piazza del Popolo to the
Piazza di Venezia, then return to the former square, and come back yet
again, following the entire Corso three and four times without wearying.
The delighted Dario showed himself and looked about him, exchanging
salutations. On either footway was a compact crowd of promenaders whose
eyes roamed over the equipages and whose hands could have shaken those of
the carriage folks. So great at last became the number of vehicles that
both lines were absolutely unbroken, crowded to such a point that the
coachmen could do no more than walk their horses. Perpetually going up
and coming down the Corso, people scrutinised and jostled one another. It
was open-air promiscuity, all Rome gathered together in the smallest
possible space, the folks who knew one another and who met here as in a
friendly drawing-room, and the folks belonging to adverse parties who did
not speak together but who elbowed each other, and whose glances
penetrated to each other's soul. Then a revelation came to Pierre, and he
suddenly understood the Corso, the ancient custom, the passion and glory
of the city. Its pleasure lay precisely in the very narrowness of the
street, in that forced elbowing which facilitated not only desired
meetings but the satisfaction of curiosity, the display of vanity, and
the garnering of endless tittle-tattle. All Roman society met here each
day, displayed itself, spied on itself, offering itself in spectacle to
its own eyes, with such an indispensable need of thus beholding itself
that the man of birth who missed the Corso was like one out of his
element, destitute of newspapers, living like a savage. And withal the
atmosphere was delightfully balmy, and the narrow strip of sky between
the heavy, rusty mansions displayed an infinite azure purity.

Dario never ceased smiling, and slightly inclining his head while he
repeated to Pierre the names of princes and princesses, dukes and
duchesses--high-sounding names whose flourish had filled history, whose
sonorous syllables conjured up the shock of armour on the battlefield and
the splendour of papal pomp with robes of purple, tiaras of gold, and
sacred vestments sparkling with precious stones. And as Pierre listened
and looked he was pained to see merely some corpulent ladies or
undersized gentlemen, bloated or shrunken beings, whose ill-looks seemed
to be increased by their modern