All a spectator could observe was, that the carriages turned homewards somewhat nearer to the gates than usual, and that the stream of people who sauntered idly along the footpath, as on any other _festa_ day, set out earlier than they are wont to do on their return to the city.
About six o'clock the crowd from the Porta Pia had reassembled in the Corso.

Six o'clock is always the fullest time in that street; private carriages are coming back from the Pincio promenade, and strangers are driving back to their hotels from the rounds of sight-seeing.

The Corso, without doubt, was unusually and densely crowded; the footpaths swarmed with passengers, and, what was peculiarly galling to the Government, after the failure of the Carnival, there was a double line of aristocratic carriages passing up and down; still everything was perfectly peaceable and orderly.

At the hour of the _Ave Maria_ the crowd was at its fullest, and this was the time selected for the outrage.
In a scene of general terror and confusion it is impossible to ascertain exact details of the order in which events occurred, but I believe the following account is fairly exact.
There were a great number of the Pontifical police, or _sbirri_, as the Romans call them, scattered in knots of two or three about the Corso; there were also several mounted patrols of the Papal gendarmes.

The police did everything in their power to excite the people, hustled the crowd in every direction, used the most opprobrious epithets, and pushed their way along with insulting gestures.