"As we have been better than most travellers in going to morning service," said Uncle Jim, on Sunday, "we will do as they do by driving this afternoon. I, for one, wish to see the Cathedral, and there are other churches worth visiting."
Toward the middle of the afternoon, therefore, the four travellers set forth for the Cathedral dedicated to San Gennaro (St. Januarius), the patron saint of Naples. In a cross street, on their way, their carriage drew up to let a funeral procession pass.
It was a typically Neapolitan procession, yet uncommonly gorgeous, with its white, open-sided hearse, showing a coffin covered with beautiful flowers. The hearse was drawn by eight horses, their heads decorated with yellow, and saddlecloths trimmed with gilt. Close to the horses were a number of priests carrying lighted candles, and after them two or three carriages heaped with wreaths.
Irma's attention, however, was most attracted by a dozen weird-looking men in long, loose garments, with dominoes over their faces, with holes cut out for eyes, that made them almost ghostly.
"Who are they?" she whispered to Aunt Caroline.
"Professional mourners, my dear, and those men in uniform in the last carriages are probably family servants."
"Oh, yes," interposed Marion, "that is the way the Romans did. It's one of their old customs handed down—to have a whole retinue of retainers in the funeral procession."
As they turned into the broad street toward the Cathedral, the sidewalks were thronged, and in the distance they heard the music of a band.
Aunt Caroline translated briefly the succession of rapid sentences with which the driver answered her.