Not all the efforts, however, of the police could light the Moccoletti in the Corso.

House after house, window after window, were left unlighted.

The crowd in the streets carried no candles, and there were only sixteen carriages or so, all filled with strangers.

Of all the dreary sights I have ever witnessed that Moccoletti illumination was the dreariest.

At rare intervals, and in English accents, you heard the cry of "Senza Moccolo," which used to burst from every mouth as the tiny flames flickered, and glared, and fell.