In the dead hush that followed, the President put the necessary
questions, but the amendment fell through without a vote being taken,
and the printed reply was passed.
Then the Minister of War rose to give notice of his bill for increased
military expenditure, and proposed to hand it over to the general
committee of the budget.
The Baron Bonelli rose next as Minister of the Interior, and gave notice
of his bill for the greater security of the public, and the remodelling
of the laws of the press and of association.
He spoke incisively and bitterly, and he was obviously excited, but he
affected his usual composure.
"After the language we have heard to-day," he said, "and the knowledge
we possess of mass meetings projected, it will not surprise the House
that I treat this measure as urgent, and propose that we consider it on
the principle of the three readings, taking the first of them in four
days."
At that there were some cries from the Left, but the Minister continued:
"It will also not surprise the House that, to prevent the obstruction of
members who seem ready to sing their Miserere without end, I will ask
the House to take the readings without debate."
Then in a moment the whole House was in an uproar and members were
shaking their fists in each other's faces. In vain the President rang
his bell for silence. At length he put on his hat and left the Chamber,
and the sitting was at an end.
IX
The last post that night brought Rossi a letter from Roma.
"MY DEAR, DEAR FRIEND,--It's all up! I'm done with her! My unknown
and invisible sister that is to be, or rather isn't to be and
oughtn't to be, is not worth thinking about any longer. You tell
me that she is good and brave and noble-hearted, and yet you would
have me believe that she loves wealth, and ease, and luxury, and
that she could not give them up even for the sweetest thing that
ever comes into a woman's life. Out on her! What does she think a
wife is? A pet to be pampered, a doll to be dressed up and danced
on your knee? If that's the sort of woman she is, I know what I
should call her. A name is on the tip of my tongue, and the point
of my finger, and the end of my pen, and I'm itching to have it
out, but I suppose I must not write it. Only don't talk to me any
more about the bravery of a woman like that.