r, whose benefactor was in slavery, would be the talk
under every loggia. For the first time in his life he felt too fevered
and agitated to trust his power of self-command; he gave up his intended
visit to Bardo, and walked up and down under the walls until the yellow
light in the west had quite faded, when, without any distinct purpose,
he took the first turning, which happened to be the Via San Sebastiano,
leading him directly towards the Piazza dell' Annunziata.

He was at one of those lawless moments which come to us all if we have
no guide but desire, and if the pathway where desire leads us seems
suddenly closed; he was ready to follow any beckoning that offered him
an immediate purpose.

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Note 1.

"Beauteous is life in blossom!
And it fleeteth--fleeteth ever;
Whoso would be joyful--let him!
There's no surety for the morrow."

_Carnival Song by Lorenzo de' Medici_.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

THE PEASANTS' FAIR.

The moving crowd and the strange mixture of noises that burst on him at
the entrance of the piazza, reminded Tito of what Nello had said to him
about the Fierucoloni, and he pushed his way into the crowd with a sort
of pleasure in the hooting and elbowing, which filled the empty moments,
and dulled that calculation of the future which had so new a dreariness
for him, as he foresaw himself wandering away solitary in pursuit of
some unknown fortune, that his thought had even glanced towards going in
search of Baldassarre after all.

At each of the opposite inlets he saw people struggling into the piazza,
while above them paper lanterns, held aloft on sticks, were waving
uncertainly to and fro. A rude monotonous chant made a distinctly
traceable strand of noise, across which screams, whistles, gibing chants
in piping boyish voices, the beating of drums, and the ringing of little
bells, met each other in confused din. Every now and then one of the
dim floating lights disappeared with a smash from a stone launched more
or less vaguely in pursuit of mischief, followed by a scream and renewed
shouts. But on the outskirts of the whirling tumult there were groups
who were keeping this vigil of the Nativity of the Virgin in a more
methodical manner than by fitful stone-throwing and gibing. Certain
ragged men, darting a hard sharp glance around them while their tongues
rattled merrily, were inviting country people to gam