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Passages from the French and Italian Notebooks, Volume 2. by Nathaniel Hawthorne
page 48 of 252 (19%)
little more than nods; therefore not particularly graceful or majestic.
Having the good fortune, to be favored with one of these nods, I lifted
my hat in response, and may therefore claim a bowing acquaintance with
the Grand Duchess. She is a Bourbon of the Naples family, and was a
pale, handsome woman, of princely aspect enough. The crowd evinced no
enthusiasm, nor the slightest feeling of any kind, in acknowledgment of
the presence of their rulers; and, indeed, I think I never saw a crowd so
well behaved; that is, with so few salient points, so little ebullition,
so absolutely tame, as the Florentine one. After all, and much contrary
to my expectations, an American crowd has incomparably more life than any
other; and, meeting on any casual occasion, it will talk, laugh, roar,
and be diversified with a thousand characteristic incidents and gleams
and shadows, that you see nothing of here. The people seems to have no
part even in its own gatherings. It comes together merely as a mass of
spectators, and must not so much as amuse itself by any activity of mind.

The race, which was the attraction that drew us all together, turned out
a very pitiful affair. When we had waited till nearly dusk, the street
being thronged quite across, insomuch that it seemed impossible that it
should be cleared as a race-course, there came suddenly from every throat
a quick, sharp exclamation, combining into a general shout. Immediately
the crowd pressed back on each side of the street; a moment afterwards,
there was a rapid pattering of hoofs over the earth with which the
pavement was strewn, and I saw the head and back of a horse rushing past.
A few seconds more, and another horse followed; and at another little
interval, a third. This was all that we had waited for; all that I saw,
or anybody else, except those who stood on the utmost verge of the
course, at the risk of being trampled down and killed. Two men were
killed in this way on Thursday, and certainly human life was never spent
for a poorer object. The spectators at the windows, to be sure, having
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