“The Barons are your best customers,” quoth the minor noble.
“Much, much!” said the draper.
“‘Tis a pity that they are thus roughly expelled,” said Montreal, in a melancholy tone. “Would it not be possible, if the Senator (I drink his health) were less rash—less zealous, rather,—to unite free institutions with the return of the Barons?—such should be the task of a truly wise statesman!”
“It surely might be possible,” returned Vivaldi; “the Savelli alone spend more with me than all the rest of Rome.”
“I know not if it be possible,” said Bruttini; “but I do know that it is an outrage to all decorum that an innkeeper’s son should be enabled to make a solitude of the palaces of Rome.”
“It certainly seems to indicate too vulgar a desire of mob favour,” said Montreal. “However, I trust we shall harmonize all these differences. Rienzi, perhaps,—nay, doubtless, means well!”
“I would,” said Vivaldi, who had received his cue, “that we might form a mixed constitution—Plebeians and Patricians, each in their separate order.”
“But,” said Montreal, gravely, “so new an experiment would demand great physical force.”
“Why, true; but we might call in an umpire—a foreigner who had no interest in either faction—who might protect the new Buono Stato; a Podesta, as we have done before—Brancaleone, for instance. How well and wisely he ruled! that was a golden age for Rome. A Podesta for ever!—that’s my theory.”
“You need not seek far for the president of your council,” said Montreal, smiling at Pandulfo; “a citizen at once popular, well-born, and wealthy, may be found at my right hand.”