not be so if they are robbed of the water of the Edera.  It is the source of all the little —­ the very little —­ good which comes to them.  So it is with Adone Alba.  He has been God-fearing, law-abiding, a good son, excellent in all relations; but he will not recognise as law the seizure of his land.  Sir, you are the elected chief of this district; all these people look to you for support in their emergency.  What are these foreign speculators to you that you should side with them?  You say this commune will purchase from its peasant proprietors in the interests of these foreigners.  Was it to do this that they elected you?  Why should the interests of the foreigners be upheld by you to the injury of those of your own people?  Speaking for my own parish, I can affirm to you that, simple souls as they are, poor in the extreme, and resigned to poverty, you will have trouble with them all if you take it on you to enforce the usurpation of the Edera water.”

Count Corradini, still leaning back in his large leathern chair, listened as if he were hypnotised; he was astounded, offended, enraged, but he was fascinated by the low, rich, harmonious modulations of the voice which addressed him, and by the sense of mastery which the priest conveyed without by a single word asserting it.

“You would threaten me with public disorder?” he said feebly, and with consciousness of feebleness.

“No sir; I would adjure you, in God’s name, not to provoke it.”

“It does not rest with me.”

He raised himself in his chair:  his slender aristocratic hands played nervously with the strings of the portfolio, his eyelids flickered, and his eyes avoided those of his visitor.

“I have no voice in this matter.  You mistake.”

“Surely your Excellency speaks with the voice of all you electors?”

“Of my administrative council, then?  But they are all in favour of the project; so is his Excellency the Prefect, so is the Deputy, so is the Government.  Can I take upon myself in my own slender personality to oppose these?”

“Yes, sir, because you are the mouthpiece of those who cannot speak for themselves.”

“Euh!  Euh!  That may be true in a sense.  But you mistake; my authority is most limited.  I have but two votes in Council.  I am as wholly convinced as you can be that some will suffer for the general good.  The individual is crushed by the crowd in these days.  We are in a period of immense and febrile development; of wholly unforeseen expansion; we are surrounded by the miracles of science; we are witnesses of an increase of intelligence which will lead to results whereof no living man can dream; civilisation in its vast and ineffable benevolence sometimes wounds, even as the light and heat of the blessed sun —­”

“Pardon me, sir,” said Don Soverio, “at any other moment it would be my dearest privilege to listen to your eloquence.  But time passes.  I came here on a practical errand.  I desire to take back some definite answer to Adone and Clelia Alba.  Am I to understand from you that the municipality, on behalf of these foreign companies, desires to purchase his land, and even insists upon its right to do so?”