crets
of their ancient intimacy as colleagues were coming to light--many of
the intrigues that had settled historic parliamentary contests for the
premiership. The galleries were filled with spectators who had come to
enjoy the fun. The deputies and ministers occupied every seat on either
hand of the presidential chair. But now the incident was closed. Two
hours of veiled insult and pungent gossip had passed all too soon. And
the phrase "Ecclesiastical Appropriations" had served as a fire-alarm.
Run--do not walk--to the nearest exit!

However, the name of the orator who was now being given the floor
served to check the stampede somewhat, much as routs have been stopped
by some great historic warcry. A few deputies hurried back to their
benches. All eyes turned toward the extreme Left of the Chamber, where,
a white head, rising above the red seats over a pair of spectacles and a
gently ironical smile, was coming into view.

The old man was on his feet, at last. He was small, so frail of person,
that he hardly overtopped the men still seated. All his vital energies
had been concentrated in that huge, nobly proportioned head of his, pink
at the top, with shocks of white hair combed back over it. His pale
countenance had the warlike transparency of a sound, vigorous old age.
To it a shining, luminous silvery beard added a majesty like that with
which Sacred Art used to picture the Almighty.

The venerable orator folded his arms and waited for the noise in the
Chamber to cease. When the last determined fugitives had disappeared
through the exit doors, he began to speak. The journalists in the
press-gallery craned their necks toward "the tribune," hushing for
silence in order not to lose a word.

This man was the patriarch of the Chamber. He represented "the
Revolution"--not only the old-fashioned, the political, revolution, but
the modern, the social and economic revolution. He was the enemy of all
present systems of government and society. His theories irritated
everybody, like a new and incomprehensible music falling on slumbering
ears. But he was listened to with respect, with the veneration inspired
by his years and his unsullied career. His voice had the melodious
feebleness of a muffled, silver bell; and his words rolled through the
silence of the hall with a certain prophetic stateliness, as if the
vision of a better world were passing before his eyes as he spoke, the
revelation of a perfect society of the future,