As the day drew on, the preparations were completed, and the material of which every house was built was lost under a mass of scarlet and green. But, alas! about three o'clock the clouds gathered upon Alba; Monte Calvi was enveloped in mist, which sailed over the top of Artemisio; the weather turned cold; and the whole appearance of the day became threatening. The figure of the Pope on the top of the triumphal arch, to compose which sundry beds must have been stripped of their sheets--for it was of colossal dimensions--quivered in the breeze, and at every blast I expected to see the worst possible omen--the mitre, which was only fastened by string to the sacred head, falling down headless; but having pointed this out to some persons who were too excited themselves to see anything practical, a boy was sent up, and with two long nails secured the mitre more firmly on the sacred head than even Lord Minto's counsels could do. At three o'clock the Municipality passed down the lines of troops amid every demonstration of noisy joy. There were half a dozen very respectable gentlemen in evening dress, all looking wonderfully alike, and remarkably pale, either from the excitement or the important functions which they had to perform; but I ought to speak well of them, for they invited me to the reserved part of the small entrance square, where I had the good fortune to shelter myself from the gusts of wind which drove down from the hills. From three to six we all waited, the people very patient, and fortunately so crowded that they could not well feel cold. The cardinal's servants--strange grotesque-looking fellows in patchwork liveries--were running up and down the portico, and the soldiers on duty began to give evident signs of a diminution of ardor. Some persons were just beginning to croak, "Well, I told you he would not come," when the cannon opened from the heights, the troops fell in--a carriage is seen coming down the hill, but it is the wrong road. Who can it be? The troops seem to know, for the chasseurs draw their swords, the whole line present arms, the band strikes up, and the French General Baraguay d'Hilliers dashes through the gates. Again roar the cannon--another carriage is seen, and this time in the right direction; it is preceded by the Pope's courier, covered with scarlet and gold. The people cheered loudly, although they could not have known whom it contained; but they cheered the magnificent arms and the reeking horses. It was the Vice-Legate of Velletri, Monsignore Beraldi. The Municipality rushed to the door of the carriage, and a little, energetic-looking man in lace and purple descended, and was almost smothered in the embraces of the half dozen municipal officers, who confused him with questions--"Dove e la sua Santita!" "Vicino! Vicino!" "E a Frosinone, e a Valomontone?" "Bellissimo, bellissimo, recevimento! sorprendente! Tanto bello! tanto bello!" was all the poor little man could jerk out, and at each word he was stifled