"And who is this paragon of yours, my dear?"
"The great David Rossi!"
"That man!"
The white plumes were going like a fan.
"The man is a public nuisance and ought to be put down by the police,"
said the little Princess, beating her foot on the floor.
"He has a tongue like a sword and a pen like a dagger," said the young
Roman.
Donna Roma's eyes began to flash with a new expression.
"Ah, yes, he is a journalist, isn't he, and libels people in his paper?"
"The creature has ruined more reputations than anybody else in Europe,"
said the little Princess.
"I remember now. He made a terrible attack on our young old women and
our old young men. Declared they were meddling with everything--called
them a museum of mummies, and said they were symbolical of the ruin that
was coming on the country. Shameful, wasn't it? Nobody likes to be
talked about, especially in Rome, where it's the end of everything. But
what matter? The young man has perhaps learned freedom of speech in some
free country. We can afford to forgive him, can't we? And then he is so
interesting and so handsome!"
"An attempt to stop the Pope's procession might end in tumult," said the
American General to the Italian General. "Was that the danger the Baron
spoke about?"
"Yes," said General Morra. "The Government have been compelled to tax
bread, and of course that has been a signal for the enemies of the
national spirit to say that we are starving the people. This David Rossi
is the worst Roman in Rome. He opposed us in Parliament and lost.
Petitioned the King and lost again. Now he intends to petition the
Pope--with what hope, Heaven knows."
"With the hope of playing on public opinion, of course," said the Baron
cynically.
"Public opinion is a great force, your Excellency," said the Englishman.
"A great pestilence," said the Baron warmly.
"What is David Rossi?"
"An anarchist, a republican, a nihilist, anything as old as the hills,
dear friend, only everything in a new way," said the young Roman.
"David Rossi is the politician who proposes to govern the world by the
precepts of the Lord's Prayer," said the American.
"The Lord's Prayer!"
The Baron paraded on the hearthrug. "David Rossi," he said
compassionately, "is a creature of his age. A man of generous impulses
and wide sympathies, moved to indignation at the extremes of poverty and
wealth, and carried away by the promptings of the eternal religion in
the human soul. A dreamer, of course, a dreamer like the Holy Father
himself, only his dream is different, and neither could succeed without
destroying the other. In the millennium Rossi looks for, not only are
kings and princes to disappear, but popes and prelates as well."