The last night of the carnival was the gayest time of all. As soon as it was dark, Tessa went with her father and mother and Beppo out into the streets. Every one carried a torch and tried to keep it lighted. At the same time he must try to put out as many other torches as possible.
How the lights danced up and down the streets! What a puffing and blowing there was all the time. Tessa no sooner got her torch lighted than some one came up from behind and put it out. Then she would cry, "Senza moccolo, senza moccolo." That means, "Without light, without light."
After a while, Beppo fastened his torch to the end of a long pole. He thought he was safe at last. But, no! a moment afterward some one came along with a pole longer than his own and dashed it down. The fun was all the greater for such little things as this.
The city looked wonderfully pretty with the lights dancing about the windows and balconies and streets.
After an hour or two the crowds began to thin out. Every one was tired. Tessa and Beppo turned homeward with their father and mother, calling out:
"The carnival is dead. The carnival is dead."
Soon afterward they tumbled into bed, half asleep, still repeating the words they heard echoing through the streets:
"The carnival is dead!"