The first clear breeze out of the north shakes down the dying
leaves and brightens the blue air. The brown campagna turns green again,
and the heart of the poor lame cab-horse is lifted up. The huge porter
of the palace lays aside his linen coat and his pipe, and opens wide the
great gates; for the masters are coming back, from their castles and
country places, from the sea and from the mountains, from north and
south, from the magic shore of Sorrento, and from distant French bathing
places, some with brides or husbands, some with rosy Roman babies making
their first trumphal entrance into Rome--and some, again, returning
companionless to the home they had left in companionship. The great and
complicated machinery of social life is set in order and repaired for
the winter; the lost or damaged pieces in the engine are carefully
replaced with new ones which will do as well or better, the joints and
bearings are lubricated, the whistle of the first invitation is heard,
there is some puffing and a little creaking at first, and then the big
wheels begin to go slowly round, solemnly and regularly as ever, while
all the little wheels run as fast as they can and set fire to their
axles in the attempt to keep up the speed, and are finally jammed and
caught up and smashed, as little wheels are sure to be when they try to
act like big ones.
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