e.
Under the most noble propositions about the moral and economical
redemption of the people is hidden a propaganda for the conquest of the
public powers.

"My aim is to gain the affection of my people, and to interest them in
the cause of order and public security, and therefore my Government will
present an urgent bill, which is intended to stop the flowering of these
parasitic organisations, by revising these laws of the press and of
public meeting, in whose defects agitators find opportunity for their
attacks on the doctrines of the State."

A prolonged outburst of applause followed this passage, mingled with a
tumult of tongues, which went on after the King had begun to read again,
rendering his last clause--an invocation of God's blessing on the
deliberations of Parliament--almost inaudible.

The end of the speech was a signal for further cheering, and when the
King left the hall, bowing as before, and smiling his painful smile, the
shouts of "Long live the King," the clapping of hands, and the waving of
handkerchiefs followed him to the street. The entire ceremony had
occupied twelve minutes.

Then the clamour of voices drowned the sound of the royal hymn outside.
Deputies were climbing about to join their friends among the ladies,
whose light laughter was to be heard on every side.

David Rossi rose to go. Without lifting his head, he had been conscious
that during the latter part of the King's speech many eyes were fixed
upon him. Playing with his watch-chain, he had struggled to look calm
and impassive. But his heart was sick, and he wished to get away
quickly.

A partition, shielding the door of the corridor, stood near to his seat,
and he was trying to get round it. He heard his name in the air around
him, mingled with significant trills and unmistakable accents. All at
once he was conscious of a perfume he knew, and of a girlish figure
facing him.

"Good-day, Honourable," said a voice that thrilled him like the strings
of a harp drawn tight.

He lifted his head and answered. It was Roma. Her face was lighted up
with a fire he had never seen before. Only one glance he dared to take,
but he could see that at the next instant those flashing eyes would
burst into tears.

The tide was passing out by the front doors where the carriages and the
reporters waited, but Rossi stepped round to the back. He was on the way
to the office of his newspaper, and dipping into the Corso from a lane
that crossed it