The Count of Monte Cristo

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recollect to have ever seen a ceremony interrupted by one of those
events so common in other countries. Albert was triumphant in his
harlequin costume. A knot of rose-colored ribbons fell from his shoulder
almost to the ground. In order that there might be no confusion, Franz
wore his peasant's costume.

As the day advanced, the tumult became greater. There was not on the
pavement, in the carriages, at the windows, a single tongue that was
silent, a single arm that did not move. It was a human storm, made up
of a thunder of cries, and a hail of sweetmeats, flowers, eggs, oranges,
and nosegays. At three o'clock the sound of fireworks, let off on the
Piazza del Popolo and the Piazza di Venezia (heard with difficulty amid
the din and confusion) announced that the races were about to begin. The
races, like the moccoli, are one of the episodes peculiar to the last
days of the Carnival. At the sound of the fireworks the carriages
instantly broke ranks, and retired by the adjacent streets. All these
evolutions are executed with an inconceivable address and marvellous