The Palazzo Braschi is a triangular palace, whereof one front faces to
the Piazza Navona and the two other fronts to side streets. It is the
official palace of the Minister of the Interior, usually the President
of the Council and Prime Minister of Italy.
Roma arrived at eleven o'clock, and was taken to the Minister's room
immediately, by way of an outer chamber, in which colleagues and
secretaries were waiting their turn for an interview. The Baron was
seated at a table covered with books and papers. There was a fur rug
across his knees, and at his right hand lay a small ivory-handled
revolver. He rose as Roma entered, and received her with his great but
glacial politeness.
"How prompt! And how sweet you look to-day, my child! On a cheerless
morning like this you bring the sun itself into a poor Minister's gloomy
cabinet. Sit down."
"You wished to see me?" said Roma.
The Baron rested his elbow on the table, leaned his head on his hand,
looked at her with his never-varying smile, and said:
"I hear you are to be congratulated, my dear."
She changed colour slightly.
"Are you surprised that I know?" he asked.
"Why should I be surprised?" she answered. "You know everything.
Besides, this is published at the Capitol, and therefore common
knowledge."
His smiling face remained perfectly impassive.
"Now I understand what you meant on Sunday. It is a fact that a wife
cannot be called as a witness against her husband."
She knew he was watching her face as if looking into the inmost recesses
of her soul.
"But isn't it a little courageous of you to think of marriage?"
"Why courageous?" she asked, but her eyes fell and the colour mounted to
her cheek.
"_Why_ courageous?" he repeated.
He allowed a short time to elapse, and then he said in a a low tone,
"Considering the past, and all that has happened...."
Her eyelids trembled and she rose to her feet.
"If this is all you wish to say to me...."
"No, no! Sit down, my child. I sent for you in order to show you that
the marriage you contemplate may be difficult, perhaps impossible."
"I am of age--there can be no impediment."
"There may be the greatest of all impediments, my dear."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean ... But wait! You are not in a hurry? A number of gentlemen are
waiting to see me, and if you will permit me to ring for my
secretary.... Don't move. Colleagues merely! They will not object to
_your_ presence. My ward, you know--almost a member of my own household.
Ah, here is the secretary. Who now?"
"The Minister of War, the Prefect, Commendatore Angelelli, and one of
his delegates," replied the secretary.
"Bring the Prefect first," said the Baron, and a severe-looking man of
military bearing entered the room.
"Come in, Senator. You know Donna Roma. Our business is urgent--she will
allow us to go on. I am anxious to hear how things stand and what you
are doing."
The Prefect began on his report. Immediately the new law was promulgated
by royal decree, he had sent out a circular to all the Mayors in his
province, stating the powers it gave the police to dissolve associations
and forbid public meetings.
"But what can we expect in the provincial towns, your Excellency, while
in the capital we are doing nothing? The chief of all subversive
societies is in Rome, and the directing mind is at large among
ourselves. Listen to this, sir."
The Prefect took a newspaper from his pocket and began to read:
"ROMANS,--The new law is an attempt to deprive us of liberties
which our fathers made revolutions to establish. It is, therefore,
our duty to resist it, and to this end we must hold our meeting on
the 1st of February according to our original intention. Only thus
can we show the Government and the King what it is to oppose the
public opinion of the world.... Meet in the Piazza del Popolo at
sundown and walk to the Coliseum by way of the Corso. Be peaceful
and orderly, and God put it into the hearts of your rulers to avert
bloodshed."
"That is from the _Sunrise_?"
"Yes, sir, the last of many manifestoes. And what is the result? The
people are flocking into Rome from every part of the province."
"And how many political pilgrims are here already?"
"Fifty thousand, sixty, perhaps a hundred thousand. It cannot be allowed
to go on, your Excellency."
"It is a _levée-en-masse_ certainly. What do you advise?"
"That the enemies of the Government and the State, whose erroneous
conceptions of liberty have led to this burst of anarchist feelings, be
left to the operation of the police laws."
The Baron glanced at Roma. Her face was flushed and her eyes were
flashing.
"That," he said, "may be difficult, considering the number of the
discontented. What is the strength of your police?"
"Seven hundred in uniform, four hundred in plain clothes, and five
hundred and fifty municipal guards. Besides these, sir, there are three
thousand Carabineers and eight thousand regular troops."
"Say twelve thousand five hundred armed men in all?"
"Precisely, and what is that against fifty, a hundred, perhaps a hundred
and fifty thousand people?"
"You want the army at call?"
"Exactly! but above everything else we want the permission of the
Government to deal with the greater delinquents, whether Deputies or
not, according to the powers given us by the statute."
The Baron rose and held out his hand. "Thanks, Senator! The Government
will consider your suggestions immediately. Be good enough to send in my
colleague, the Minister of War."
When the Prefect left the room Roma rose to go.
"You cannot suppose this is very agreeable to me?" she said in an
agitated voice.
"Wait! I shall not be long ... Ah, General Morra! Roma, you know the
General, I think. Sit down, both of you.... Well, General, you hear of
this _levée-en-masse_?"
"I do."
"The Prefect is satisfied that the people are moved by a revolutionary
organisation, and he is anxious to know what force we can put at his
service to control it."
The General detailed his resources. There were sixteen thousand men
always under arms in Rome, and the War Office had called up the
old-timers of two successive years--perhaps fifty thousand in all.
"As a Minister of State and your colleague," said the General, "I am at
one with you in your desire to safeguard the cause of order and protect
public institutions, but as a man and a Roman I cannot but hope that you
will not call upon me to act without the conditions required by law."
"Indeed, no," said the Baron; "and in order to make sure that our
instructions are carried out with wisdom and humanity, let these be the
orders you issue to your staff: First, that in case of disturbance
to-morrow night, whether at the Coliseum or elsewhere, the officers must
wait for the proper signal from the delegate of police."
"Good!"
"Next, that on receiving the order to fire, the soldiers must be careful
that their first volley goes over the heads of the people."
"Excellent!"
"If that does not disperse the crowds, if they throw stones at the
soldiers or otherwise resist, the second volley--I see no help for
it--the second volley, I say, must be fired at the persons who are
leading on the ignorant and deluded mob."
"Ah!"
The General hesitated, and Roma, whose breathing came quick and short,
gave him a look of tenderness and gratitude.
"You agree, General Morra?"
"I'm afraid I see no alternative. But if the blood of their leader only
infuriates the people, is the third volley...."
"That," said the Baron, "is a contingency too terrible to contemplate.
My prediction would be that when their leader falls, the poor, misguided
people will fly. But in all human enterprises the last word has to be
left to destiny. Let us leave it to destiny in the present instance.
Adieu, dear General! Be good enough to tell my secretary to send in the
Chief of Police."
The Minister of War left the room, and once more Roma rose to go.
"You cannot possibly imagine that a conversation like this...." she
began, but the Baron only interrupted her again.
"Don't go yet. I shall be finished presently. Angelelli cannot keep me
more than a moment. Ah, here is the Commendatore."
The Chief of Police came bowing and bobbing at every step, with the
extravagant politeness which differentiates the vulgar man from the
well-bred.
"About this meeting at the Coliseum, Commendatore--has any authorisation
been asked for it?"
"None whatever, your Excellency."
"Then we may properly regard it as seditious?"
"Quite properly, your Excellency."
"Listen! You will put yourself into communication with the Minister of
War immediately. He will place fifty thousand men at the disposition of
your Prefect. Choose your delegates carefully. Instruct them well. At
the first overt act of resistance, let them give the word to fire. After
that, leave everything to the military."
"Quite so, your Excellency."
"Be careful to keep yourself in touch with me until midnight to-morrow.
It may be necessary to declare a state of siege, and in that event the
royal decree will have to be obtained without delay. Prepare your own
staff for a general order. Ask for the use of the cannon of St. Angelo
as a signal, and let it be understood that if the gun is fired to-morrow
night, every gate of the city is to be closed, every outward train is to
be stopped, and every telegraph office is to be put under control. You
understand me?"
"Perfectly, Excellency."
"After the signal has been given let no one leave the city, and let no
telegraphic message of any kind be despatched. In short, let Rome from
that hour onward be entirely under the control of the Government."
"Entirely, your Excellency."
"The military have already received their orders. After the call of the
delegate of police, the first volley is to be fired over the heads of
the people, and the second at the ringleaders. But if any of these
should escape...."
The Baron paused, and then repeated in a low tone with the utmost
deliberation:
"I say, _if_ any of these should escape, Commendatore...."
"They shall not escape, your Excellency."
There was a moment of profound silence, in which Roma felt herself to be
suffocating, and could scarcely restrain the cry that was rising in her
throat.
"Let me go," she said, when the Chief of Police had backed and bowed
himself out; but again the Baron pretended to misunderstand her.
"Only one more visitor! I shall be finished in a few minutes," and then
Charles Minghelli was shown into the room.
The man's watchful eyes blinked perceptibly as he came face to face
with Roma, but he recovered himself in a moment, and began to brush with
his fingers the breast of his frockcoat.
"Sit down, Minghelli. You may speak freely before Donna Roma. You owe
your position to her generous influence, you may remember, and she is
abreast of all our business. You know all about this meeting at the
Coliseum?"
Minghelli bent his head.
"The delegates of police have received the strictest orders not to give
the word to the military until an overt act of resistance has been
committed. That is necessary as well for the safety of our poor deluded
people as for our own credit in the eyes of the world. But an act of
rebellion in such a case is a little thing, Mr. Minghelli."
Again Minghelli bent his head.
"A blow, a shot, a shower of stones, and the peace is broken and the
delegate is justified."
A third time Minghelli bent his head.
"Unfortunately, in the sorrowful circumstances in which the city is
placed, an overt act of resistance is quite sure to be committed."
Minghelli flecked a speck of dust from his spotless cuff and said:
"Quite sure, your Excellency."
There was another moment of profound silence, in which Roma felt her
heart beat violently.
"Adieu, Mr. Minghelli. Tell my secretary as you pass out that I wish to
dictate a letter."
The letter was to the Minister of Foreign Affairs.
"Dear colleague," dictated the Baron, "I entirely approve of the
proposal you have made to the Governments of Europe and America to
establish a basis on which anarchists should be suppressed by means of
an international net, through which they can hardly escape. My
suggestion would be the universal application of the Belgian clause in
all existing extradition treaties, whereby persons guilty of regicide
may be dealt with as common murderers. In any case please say that the
Government of Italy intends to do its duty to the civilised world, and
will look to the Governments of other countries to allow it to follow up
and arrest the criminals who are attempting to reconstruct society by
burying it under ruins."
Notwithstanding all her efforts to appear calm, Roma felt as if she must
go out into the streets and scream. Now she knew why she had been sent
for. It was in order that the Baron might talk to her in parables--in
order that he might show her by means of an object lesson, as palpable
as pitiless, what was the impediment which made her marriage with David
Rossi impossible.
The marriage could not be celebrated until after eleven days, but the
meeting at the Coliseum must take place to-morrow, and as surely as it
did so it must result in riot and David Rossi must be shot.
The secretary gathered up his note-book and left the room, and then the
Baron turned to Roma with beaming eyes and lips expanding to a smile.
"Finished at last! A thousand apologies, my dear! Twelve o'clock
already! Let us go out and lunch somewhere."
"Let me go home," said Roma.
She was trembling violently, and as she rose to her feet she swayed a
little.
"My dear child! you're not well. Take this glass of water."
"It's nothing. Let me go home."
The Baron walked with her to the head of the staircase.
"I understand you perfectly," she said in a choking voice, "but there is
something you have not counted upon, and you are quite mistaken."
And making a great call on her resolution, she threw up her head and
walked firmly down the stairs.
Immediately on reaching home she wrote to David Rossi:
"I _must_ see you to-night. Where can it be? To-night! Mind,
to-night. To-morrow will be too late. ROMA."
Bruno delivered the note by hand, and brought back an answer:
"DEAREST,--Come to the office at nine o'clock. Sorry I cannot
go to you. It is impossible. D. R.
"P.S.--You have converted Bruno, and he would die for you. As for
the 'little Roman boy,' he is in the seventh heaven over your
presents, and says he must go up to Trinità de' Monti to begin
work at once."