The Prince Read Free Page B

But in character and unscrupulousness, he did not differ significantly from the others present.
    When introduced, Licata and Don Antonio took an instinctive and immediate liking to each other.
    Ferdinando Licata approached the group that seemed most passionate. At its center, a baron waved his arms like a rabble-rouser. “It’s all the fault of that idiot of a prime minister Salandra! To urge those few lazy good-for-nothings to fight during the war, he went and promised them that when they returned home, they would have ‘a piece of land all their own.’ ”
    â€œSalandra should have his tongue cut out,” echoed the honorable Ninì Rizzo.
    â€œNo one can stop them now. And it’s not only the socialists,” ventured Marquis Pietro Bellarato, a short, stocky man who lacked the aristocratic bearing of a Licata.
    â€œThat plaster saint Don Sturzo and his Popular Party have also gotten into it,” a quarryman concurred. “Now they too want to divide up our estates to distribute them to the people. What kind of a revolution is this? I for one am against it.”
    Paolo Moncada, the elderly prince of Valsavoia, joined in. “Devaluation is at historic lows and shows no sign of stopping. In one year, gold has risen from 5.85 liras per gram to well over 14.05 liras. That’s 240 percent. A staggering figure!”
    â€œThe real plague to eradicate is the socialist scum,” Marquis Bellarato interjected firmly.
    â€œThe problem is that they possess a majority of seats in the Chamber of Deputies: one hundred fifty-six,” said Moncada, stroking his long white beard.
    â€œBut let’s not forget,” the republican Vito Bonanno concluded with satisfaction, “that the socialists didn’t even get one seat from Sicily.”
    â€œTrue,” agreed Moncada. “And the fascists were also left empty-handed. In a couple of years, they too will disappear. The ones that worry me, on the other hand, are the hundred seats held by the Popular Party, by that damned priest—forgive me, Don Antonio—that Don Sturzo, who wears a black cassock, though it might as well be red.”
    Raffaele Grassini, the journalist, joined the discussion. “Let’s not overlook the fact, gentlemen, that these were the first genuinely free elections since the unification of Italy. We have to recognize that the socialists are the true representatives of the people.”
    â€œThis is the consequence of the right to vote, which our political signori chose to extend to all male citizens!” exclaimed Bellarato, the most hotheaded of the group. “Still, you have to consider that hardly more than fifty percent of the electorate voted.”
    â€œThat’s because no one has ever had faith in parliament,” the quarryman offered. “Especially since the deputies were ignored by the king when it came time to decide on entering the Great War. Remember? The majority of deputies were in favor of not intervening, but the king decided all the same that we had to fight.”
    â€œToday, however, it is parliament itself that sets the political price of bread. We can’t support these prices anymore!” Marquis Pietro Bellarato shouted, attracting the attention of all present. “We’re selling wheat at a quarter of its real price. Why should we have to take it out of our own pockets? These reds are ruining us!” The assembly nodded, concerned. “They want to sow terror among the peasantry; their goal is to create panic. They provoke us in order to fuel the people’s resentment and incite them to take up arms to revolutionize the system, and gain possession of everything we own!” His final words silenced the entire gathering.
    Taking advantage of the lull, Count Calogero Colonna moved to the center of the room and, clapping his hands, requested his guests’ attention. “Dear friends, thank you for coming and