Section 1 of Celebrated Crimes, Volume 4, Part 3 by Alexandra Dumas. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox .org. Recording by Nadia Fernandes. Celebrated Crimes, Volume 4, Part 3 by Alexandra Dumas. Section 1, Nisida, 1825. If our readers, tempted by the Italian proverb about seeing Naples and then dying, were to ask us what is the most favourable moment for visiting the enchanted city, we should advise them to land at the mall or at Magellina on a fine summer day and at the hour when some solemn procession is moving out of the cathedral. Nothing can give an idea of the profound and simple -hearted emotion of this populace, which has enough poetry in its soul to believe in its own happiness. The whole town adorns herself and attires herself like a bride for her wedding. The dark facades of marble and granite disappear beneath hangings of silk and festoons of flowers. The wealthy display their dazzling luxury. The poor drape themselves proudly in their rags. Everything is light, harmony and perfume. The sound is like the hum of an immense hive, interrupted by a thousand -fold outcry of joy impossible to describe. The bells repeat their sonorous sequences in every key. The arcades echo afar with the triumphal marches of military bands. The cellars of sherbet and watermelons sing out their deafening flourish from throats of copper. Peep form into groups. They meet, question, gesticulate. There are gleaming looks, eloquent gestures, picturesque attitudes. There is a general animation, an unknown charm, an indefinable intoxication. Earth is very near to heaven, and it is easy to understand that if God were to banish death from this delightful spot, the Neapolitans would desire no other paradise. The story that we are about to tell opens with one of these magical pictures. It was the day of the Assumption in the year 1825. The sun had been up for some four or five hours, and a long via de Forgella, lighted from end to end by its slanting rays, cut the town in two like a ribbon of watered silk. The lava pavement, carefully cleaned, shown like any mosaic, and the royal troops with their proudly waving plumes, made a double living hedge on each side of the street. The balconies, windows and terraces, the stands with their unsubstantial balustrades, and the wooden galleries set up during the night, were loaded with spectators and looked not unlike the boxes of a theatre. An immense crowd, forming a medley of the brightest colours, invaded the reserved space and broke through the military barriers, here and there like an overflowing torrent. These intrepid sightseers, nailed to their places, would have waited half their lives without giving the least sign of impatience. At last, about noon, a cannon shot was heard, and a cry of general satisfaction followed it. It was the signal that the procession had