half past ten
My marriage morning dawned bright and clear , though the high wind of the past night still prevailed and sent the white clouds scudding rapidly , like ships running a race , across the blue fairness of the sky . The air was strong , fresh , and exhilarating , and the crowds that swarmed into the Piazza del Popolo , and the Toledo , eager to begin the riot and fun of Giovedi Grasso , were one and all in the highest good humor . As the hours advanced , many little knots of people hurried toward the cathedral , anxious , if possible , to secure places in or near the Chapel of San Gennaro , in order to see to advantage the brilliant costumes of the few distinguished persons who had been invited to witness my wedding . The ceremony was fixed to take place at eleven , and at a little before half past ten I entered my carriage , in company with the Duke di Marina as best man , and drove to the scene of action . Clad in garments of admirable cut and fit , with well-brushed hair and beard , and wearing a demeanor of skillfully mingled gravity and gayety , I bore but little resemblance to the haggard , ferocious creature who had faced me in the mirror a few hours previously . A strange and secret mirth too possessed me , a sort of half-frenzied merriment that threatened every now and then to break through the mask of dignified composure it was necessary for me to wear . There were moments when I could have laughed , shrieked , and sung with the fury of a drunken madman .