[Illustration: DECORATION]
It all happened very suddenly, just about half past two, while the
last smart equipages were hurriedly driving to the Campo di Marte.
In a moment a huge brownish cloud, pushed by the wind, arose from
Vesuvius, spreading all over the sky, hiding the white light of the
day, darkening the sun. An immense cloud which wrapped all the mountain
in a black thick smutty shade, and fell dark and menacing on the green
carpet of the race-ground, and on the brilliant gathered crowd. A
strange curious, indescribable spectacle it was indeed, bringing to
mind, as through an extraordinary vision, the feast-day when Pompei
was destroyed and the people were crowding at the Circus. A spectacle
both powerful and mysterious, with the strange contrasting effect of
the select and gay crowd merrily circulating, on the spacious grounds.
Then, all at once, to everybody's wonder, cinders began to fall,
quite a rain of fine dusty ashes, gradually increasing into a regular
shower. A whole array of elegant sun-shades were soon spread-open, and
a general transformation took place all around. Ladies' white dresses
became grayish almost black, dark clothes took instead a lighter almost
whitish hue, white hats looked as if powdered all over, while all the
roses, the innumerable roses on the hats were thickly spread with
ashes, as if the «memento homo quia pulvis es», had been pronounced
on them. Tears brought on by the caustic rain were in everybody's
eyes, though, all smiled fearlessly and gayly. The Duchess of Aosta's
black dress looked as if a gray gauze had been spread over it; every
man, every officer, the most elegant young men, the smartest sportsmen
were not to be recognised. As for the beaver hats, their condition
was indescribable. And ashes, ashes on the coaches, on the autos, on
the houses, ashes everywhere! At a certain moment however, the wind
changed, the heavy cloud became lighter, the sun took leave from the
dying day, and the pale azure sky smiled again on us. And nothing could
be then more curious to look at, than all those people, all those
equipages, all that scenery, bearing the signs of a strange and rare
telluric phenomena. Yet, with the exception of servants, chambermaids,
and coachmen, who naturally had hard work on hand brushing, washing and
cleaning everything, nobody seemed preoccupied. As for the undersigned,
a victim of her duty, while she is writing, ashes are falling thickly
over her hair, shoulders, paper, and every object around her.
April 1906.