Along either quay a great, countless multitude keeps moving to and fro, casting a dark hem of shadow at the foot of the houses which line the river.

Then of a sudden the low, ceaseless hum of ten thousand voices is exchanged for a loud cheer, and the bands begin to play, and the royal carriages, escorted by a running crowd, pass along the quays; and wherever the throng is thickest, you can tell that Victor Emmanuel is to be found, with Ricasoli by his side.

Then, as the King and his party pass out of sight, the storm comes on in its fury, and the gusts of wind blow out the lamps, as if after doing honour to the King their work was ended.
Another scene which I remember well was on a long day's journey through the Val di Chiana, a day's journey by fertile fields and smiling villages, and on pleasant country roads.

The King was coming in the course of the day along the same route.

At every corner, at every bridge and roadside house, there were groups of peasants standing waiting to see _Il padrone nuovo_, the new sovereign and master.