nsibility which
_prima facie_ had never rested on them; Quisante was told that he would
wreck the party for a quarter of a century to come. It would perhaps
have been possible to meet Constantine Blair's precedents with other
precedents, to quote newer gods against his established deities. That
was not "Sandro's way"; here again he was content to be an ancestor,
the originator of his methods, and the sufficient authority for them.

He was justified. The spirit of his fighting men ran high, and his
fighting men's wives grew gracious to him. The majority, if they scowled
at him (as was only to be hoped), began to scowl furtively at one another
also and to say that certain questions, on which they were by no means of
one mind, could not permanently be shirked and kept in the background.
Some of them asked what their constituents had sent them to Westminster
for, a question always indicative of perturbation in the parliamentary
mind; in quiet times it is not raised. The Government papers took to
observing that they did not desire to hurry or embarrass the Government,
but that time was running on and it would be no true friendship to advise
it to ignore the feeling which existed among an important, if numerically
small, section of its followers. Altogether at the opening of the session
the majority was much less happy, the minority in far finer feather, than
anybody had expected. Only officialdom or ignorance could refuse the main
credit to Alexander Quisante.

"I declare," said Lady Castlefort--and her opinion was not one to
neglect--"May Gaston was right to take the man after all. He'll be Prime
Minister." And she settled her _pince-nez_ and looked round for
contradiction. She loved argument but had made the mistake of growing too
important to be differed from. None the less on this occasion a sweet
little voice spoke up in the circle.

"I wouldn't marry him if he were fifty times Prime Minister," said Lady
Richard Benyon. "He's odious."

"God bless me!" murmured the Countess, genuinely startled. "Well, you'll
see, my dear," she went on, nodding emphatically. "He's the only man
among them." Her eye fell on Weston Marchmont. "Oh, yes, I see you're
there," she said, "and I'm very glad you should be."

"It's always a pleasure to be here," he smiled urbanely.

"Especially, apparently, when you ought to be at the House," she
retorted, glancing at the clock. "However to-day you've heard more truth
here than you're likely t