The episode would have been funny if the matter at stake had been a trifle; but in the circumstances it was pathetic.  The usual storm was raging in the House.  As usual, many of the Majority and the most of the Minority were standing up—­to have a better chance to exchange epithets and make other noises.  Into this storm Count Falkenhayn entered, with his paper in his hand; and at once there was a rush to get near him and hear him read his motion.  In a moment he was walled in by listeners.  The several clauses of his motion were loudly applauded by these allies, and as loudly disapplauded—­if I may invent a word—­by such of the Opposition as could hear his voice.  When he took his seat the President promptly put the motion—­persons desiring to vote in the affirmative, stand up!  The House was already standing up; had been standing for an hour; and before a third of it had found out what the President had been saying, he had proclaimed the adoption of the motion!  And only a few heard that.  In fact, when that House is legislating you can’t tell it from artillery practice.

You will realise what a happy idea it was to side-track the lawful ayes and noes and substitute a stand-up vote by this fact:  that a little later, when a deputation of deputies waited upon the President and asked him if he was actually willing to claim that that measure had been passed, he answered, ‘Yes—­and unanimously.’  It shows that in effect the whole House was on its feet when that trick was sprung.

The ‘Lex Falkenhayn,’ thus strangely born, gave the President power to suspend for three days any deputy who should continue to be disorderly after being called to order twice, and it also placed at his disposal such force as might be necessary to make the suspension effective.  So the House had a sergeant-at-arms at last, and a more formidable one, as to power, than any other legislature in Christendom had ever possessed.  The Lex Falkenhayn also gave the House itself authority to suspend members for thirty days.

On these terms the Ausgleich could be put through in an hour—­apparently.  The Opposition would have to sit meek and quiet, and stop obstructing, or be turned into the street, deputy after deputy, leaving the Majority an unvexed field for its work.

Certainly the thing looked well.  The government was out of the frying-pan at last.  It congratulated itself, and was almost girlishly happy.  Its stock rose suddenly from less than nothing to a premium.  It confessed to itself, with pride, that its Lex Falkenhayn was a master-stroke—­a work of genius.

However, there were doubters—­men who were troubled, and believed that a grave mistake had been made.  It might be that the Opposition was crushed, and profitably for the country, too; but the manner of it—­the manner of it!  That was the serious part.  It could have far-reaching results; results whose gravity might transcend all guessing.  It might be the initial step toward a return to government by force, a restoration of the irresponsible methods of obsolete times.