ors and deputies in
white cravats and gloves, were moving to their places and saluting each
other with bows and smiles.

Rossi slipped into the place he usually occupied among the deputies. It
was the corner seat by the door on the left of the royal canopy,
immediately facing the section, which had been apportioned to the Court
tribune. He did not lift his eyes as he entered, but he was conscious of
a tall, well-rounded yet girlish figure in a grey dress that glistened
in a ray of sunshine, with dark hair under a large black hat, and
flashing eyes that seemed to pierce into his own like a shaft of light.

Beautiful ladies with big oriental eyes were about her, and young
deputies were using their opera-glasses upon them with undisguised
curiosity. There was much gossip, some laughter, and a good deal of
gesticulation. The atmosphere was one of light spirits, approaching
gaiety, the atmosphere of the theatre or the ballroom.

The clock over the reporters' gallery showed seven minutes after the
hour appointed, when the walls of the chamber shook with the vibration
of a cannon-shot. It was a gun fired at the Castle of St. Angelo to
announce the King's arrival. At the same moment there came the muffled
strains of the royal hymn played by the band in the piazza. The little
gales of gossip died down in an instant, and in dead silence the
assembly rose to its feet.

A minute afterwards the King entered amid a fanfare of trumpets, the
shouts of many voices, and the clapping of hands. He was a young man, in
the uniform of a general, with a face that was drawn into deep lines
under the eyes by ill-health and anxiety. Two soldiers, carrying their
brass helmets with waving plumes, walked by his side, and a line of his
Ministers followed. His Queen, a tall and beautiful girl, came behind,
surrounded by many ladies.

The King took his seat under the baldacchino, with his Ministers on his
left. The Queen sat on his right hand, with her ladies beside her. They
bowed to the plaudits of the assembly, and the drawn face of the young
King wore a painful smile.

The Baron Bonelli, in court dress and decorations, stood at the King's
elbow, calm, dignified, self-possessed--the one strong face and figure
in the group under the canopy. After the cheering and the shouting had
subsided he requested the assembly, at the command of His Majesty, to
resume their seats. Then he handed a paper to the King.

It was the King's speech to his Parlia