Suddenly the music plays its gayest waltz, the procession returns to the church with the consciousness of duty done, and the rest of the day is devoted to festivity, and in the evening the principal open space of the _contrada_ is illuminated with a few extra lamps and some Bengal lights. Before almost every window hangs a picture of the saint whose day it is, and these are lighted by little oil-lamps. Here, too, as in the greater festivals, are stalls for selling fruit and pasties, or hot boiled chestnuts and _fritelle_; and much wit is expended in buying and selling these wares. Somewhere in the quarter there is dancing, too, usually in the middle of the square; and when the spectator is fortunate in his position, the whole scene is a delightful repetition of the fairs and _feste_ of the people so often seen upon the theatre or operatic stage, but far more beautiful and fascinating if the night be a moonlit one of early summer. These parish festivals are managed entirely by the people, and are more or less impressive according to the collections that the capo, or manager, is able to make. On this depend the amount of the illumination and the brilliancy of the fireworks at the end; and no triumphant general ever had more pride in his victory than has this capo, when at the close of the _festa_ he is applauded, and bids the band play the _finale_, which is, of course, the ever-present "Viva Italia! viva il Re." It is only with plenty of time, and that at the right season, that one can really come to know the Venice of to-day, and nothing so plainly shows the spirit of a people {88} as to see them at their play; and when, as in the case of these _contrada feste_, these working classes are quite by themselves, it is a tribute to their government and to their own natures to find them light-hearted and merry, easily amused, and contented in the quiet round of their every-day life. GOOD FRIDAY. This fast to the rest of the Christian world in Venice assumes the air of a feast. The people are all in holiday attire, and the children in crowds are romping and rolling, shaking their rattles to scare away Judas, turning somersaults and frolicking generally. And this day, more than any festival, affords delight to children, who have a custom of fitting up a Holy Sepulchre (_Santo Sepolero_), and appealing for coppers to all passers-by. They take the idea, naturally enough, from the Holy Sepulchres they see in all the churches; but the surprising thing is the readiness with which they improvise the _Santo Sepolero_ out of nothing, and then the ease with which they obtain the little coins. A small box, a bit of green, some candle-ends, and all is done; and if the child be sweet-voiced and winning, her Good Friday success is assured.