Word: signoralli
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Next day, two leading Viennese newspapers sounded the irrepressible retort of small Austria. The conservative Neues Wiener Tageblatt rapped: "The arguments of Il Duce are the arguments of the strong, but not strong arguments." The liberal Neue Freie Presse exclaimed rhetorically: "Your words, Signor Mussolini, can only mean that you consider yourself strong and us weak. . . . Then why refuse us the only right which the weak have-namely, the right to complain...
...friend of Signor Benito Mussolini dating from before his rise to power is the learned Jesuit scholar, Father Tacchi-Venturi of Rome. He persuaded Il Duce some years ago to present a State collection of ancient religious books to the Vatican. Generally it is known that Father Tacchi-Venturi has since been the chief intermediary between his Great & Good Friend and Pope Pius XI in recent attempts to negotiate a settlement of the Roman Question (TIME, Feb. 13). Last week a paper knife entered the flesh of Jesuit Tacchi-Venturi amid dramatic circumstances...
...House of the Jesuits at Rome there had come and yanked the ancient bellpull a decently dressed youth who announced himself as Signor De Angelis. He must, he said, he must make an important confession to good Father Tacchi-Venturi. The porter, rubbing sleepy eyes, told the youth that his desired confessor was immersed in study, could not be disturbed. Next day Signor De Angelis returned, yanked the bell still more violently, and prevailed upon the porter to usher him into the Jesuit's study...
...eyes from his papers, saw a pale, demented face and a hand which grasped a slender, dagger-like paper knife. Quick, the assassin sprang. Quicker, the Jesuit dodged. As a result the knife barely lacerated the neck skin of Father Tacchi-Venturi. Meanwhile the sleepy porter had valorously collared Signor De Angelis...
...limousine with bullet-proof glass windows stops at the door. Up the stair stalks Il Duce. He enters the presence of the dead, alone. Like a soldier, like a ramrod, he stands at attention beside the bier. Minutes pass. No tears, no prayers, no rattling of beads. At last Signor Mussolini salutes the dead and strides away...