Bruno.

"Let us be prudent. There's no need for violence, whether of the hand or
of the tongue. You've found that out this morning. If you had rescued me
from the police, I should have been in prison again by this time, and
God knows what else might have happened. I'm proud of your patience and
forbearance; and now go home, boys, and God bless you."

"Stop a minute!" said the man with the paper. "Something to read before
we go. While the Carabineers kept Mr. Rossi in the Borgo, the Committee
of Direction met in a cafe and drew up a proclamation."

"Read it, Luigi," said David Rossi, and the man opened his paper and
read:

"Having appealed in vain to Parliament and to the King against the
tyrannical tax which the Government has imposed upon bread in order that
the army and navy may be increased, and having appealed in vain to the
Pope to intercede with the civil authorities, and call back Italy to its
duty, it now behoves us, as a suffering and perishing people, to act on
our own behalf. Unless annulled by royal decree, the tax will come into
operation on the 1st of February. On that day let every Roman remain
indoors until an hour after Ave Maria. Let nobody buy so much as one
loaf of bread, and let no bread be eaten, except such as you give to
your children. Then, at the first hour of night, let us meet in the
Coliseum, tens of thousands of fasting people, of one mind and heart, to
determine what it is our duty to do next, that our bread may be sure and
our water may not fail."

"Good!" "Beautiful!" "Splendid!"

"Only wants the signature of the president," said the reader, and Bruno
called for pen and ink.

"Before I sign it," said Rossi, "let it be understood that none come
armed. There is nothing our enemies would like better than to fix on us
the names of rioters and rebels. We must defeat them. We must show the
world that we alone are the people of law and order. Therefore I call on
you to promise that none come armed."

"We promise," cried several voices.

"And now go home, boys, and God bless you."

After a moment there was only one man left in the room. It was the
fashionable young Roman with the watchful eyes and twirled-up moustache.

"For you, sir!" said the young man, taking a letter from a pocket inside
his waistcoat.

David Rossi opened the letter and read: "The bearer of this, Charles
Minghelli, is one of ourselves. He has determined upon the
accomplishment of a great act, and wishes to see