The streets are, indeed, still full of people, and long lines
of carriages may be seen towards sunset in the Villa Borghesa and in the
narrow Corso. Rome and the Romans are not easily parted as London and
London society, for instance. May comes--the queen of the months in the
south. June follows. Southern blood rejoices in the first strong
sunshine. July trudges in at the gates, sweating under the cloudless
sky, heavy, slow of foot, oppressed by the breath of the coming
dog-star. Still the nights are cool. Still, towards sunset, the
refreshing breeze sweeps up from the sea and fills the streets. Then
behind closely fastened blinds, the glass windows are opened and the
weary hand drops the fan at last. Then men and women array themselves in
the garments of civilisation and sally forth, in carriages, on foot, and
in trams, according to the degrees of social importance which provide
that in old countries the middle term shall be made to suffer for the
priceless treasure of a respectability which is a little higher than the
tram and financially not quite equal to the cab.
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