stretch his legs. Some
evening papers from Rome were handed into the carriage. Rossi put out
his hand to pay for them, and to his surprise it was seized with an
eager grasp. The newsman, who was also carrying a tray of coffee, was a
huge creature, with a white apron and a paper cap.

"Caffe, sir? Caffe?" he called, and then in an undertone, "Don't you
know me, old fellow? Caffe, sir? Thank you."

It was one of Rossi's colleagues in the House of Deputies.

"Milk, sir? With pleasure, sir. Venti centesimi, sir.... All right, old
chap. Keep your eyes open at the station at Rome.... Change, sir?
Certainly sir.... Coupe, waiting on the left side. Look alive. Addio!...
Caffe! Caffe!"

The lusty voice died away down the platform, and the train started
again. Rossi felt giddy. He staggered back to his seat and tried to read
his evening papers.

The _Sunrise_, the paper founded by Rossi himself, seemed to be full of
the Prime Minister. He had that day put the crown on a career of the
highest distinction; the King had conferred the Collar of the Annunziata
upon him; and in view of the continued rumblings of unrest it was even
probable that he would be made Dictator.

The _Avanti_ seemed to Rossi to be full of himself. When the country
recovered from the delirium of that day's ridiculous doings, it would
know how to judge of the infamous methods of a Minister who had
condescended to use the devices of a Delilah for the defeat and
confusion of a political adversary.

Rossi felt as if he were suffocating. He put a hand into a side-pocket,
for his copy of the warrant crinkled there under his twitching fingers.
If he could only meet with Roma for a moment and thrust the damning
document in her face!

When the train ran along the side of the Tiber, they could see a great
framework of fireworks which had been erected on the Pincio. It
represented a gigantic crown and was all ablaze. At length the train
slowed down and entered the terminus at Rome. Rossi remembered how he
had expected to enter it, and he choked with wounded pride.

There were the thumpings and clankings and the blinding flashes of white
light, and then the train stopped. The station was full of people. Rossi
noticed Malatesta among them, the man whose life he had spared in the
duel he had been compelled to fight.

"Now, then, please!" said the marshal of Carabineers, and Rossi stepped
down to the platform. A soldier marched on either side of him; the
marshal