After various little sallies which made his fellow-officers laugh and
the judges smile, the showy person wiped his big moustache with a silk
handkerchief, and came to Bruno. This unhappy man was not one of the
greater delinquents who, by their intelligence, had urged on the
ignorant crowd. He was merely a silly and perhaps drunken person, who if
taken away from the wine-shop and put into uniform would make a valiant
soldier. The creature was one of the human dogs of our curious species.
His political faith was inscribed with one word only--Rossi. He would
not ask for severe punishment on such a deluded being, but he would
request the court to consider the case as a means of obtaining proof
against the dark if foolish minds (fit subjects for Lombroso) which are
always putting the people into opposition with their King, their
constitution, and the great heads of government.
The sword clanked again as the young soldier sat down. Then for the
first time Roma looked over at Bruno. His big rugged face was twisted
into an expression of contempt, and somehow the "human dog of our
curious species," sitting in his prison clothes between the soldiers,
made the elegant officer look like a pet pug.
"Bruno Rocco, stand up," said the president. "You are a Roman, aren't
you?"
"Yes, I am--I'm a Roman of Rome," said Bruno.
The witnesses were called. First a Carabineer to prove Bruno's violence.
Then another Carabineer, and another, and another, with the same object.
After each of the Carabineers had given his evidence the president asked
the prisoner if he had any questions to ask the witnesses.
"None whatever. What they say is true. I admit it," he said.
At last he grew impatient and cried out, "I admit it, I tell you. What's
the good of going on?"
The next witness was the Chief of Police. Commendatore Angelelli was
called to prove that the cause of the revolt was not the dearness of
bread but the formation of subversive associations, of which the
"Republic of Man" was undoubtedly the strongest and most virulent. The
prisoner, however, was not one of the directing set, and the police knew
him only as a sort of watch-dog for the Honourable Rossi.
"The man's a fool. Why don't you go on with the trial?" cried Bruno.
"Silence," cried the usher of the court, but the prisoner only laughed
out loud.
Roma looked at Bruno again. There was something about the man which she
had never seen before, something more than the mere spirit of defiance,
something terrible and tremendous.