“Then what would you have us do?”
“Petition.”
“To the Grand Duke?”
“Yes; for an augmentation of the liberty of the press.”
A keen-looking, dark man sitting by the window turned his head round with a laugh.
“You'll get a lot out of petitioning!” he said. “I should have thought the result of the Renzi case was enough to cure anybody of going to work that way.”
“My dear sir, I am as much grieved as you are that we did not succeed in preventing the extradition of Renzi. But really—I do not wish to hurt the sensibilities of anyone, but I cannot help thinking that our failure in that case was largely due to the impatience and vehemence of some persons among our number. I should certainly hesitate——”
“As every Piedmontese always does,” the dark man interrupted sharply. “I don't know where the vehemence and impatience lay, unless you found them in the strings of meek petitions we sent in. That may be vehemence for Tuscany or Piedmont, but we should not call it particularly vehement in Naples.”
“Fortunately,” remarked the Piedmontese, “Neapolitan vehemence is peculiar to Naples.”
“There, there, gentlemen, that will do!” the professor put in. “Neapolitan customs are very good things in their way and Piedmontese customs in theirs; but just now we are in Tuscany, and the Tuscan custom is to stick to the matter in hand. Grassini votes for petitions and Galli against them. What do you think, Dr. Riccardo?”