There were no vacant seats in the galleries next day.  In fact, standing-room outside the building was at a premium.  There were crowds there, and a glittering array of helmeted and brass-buttoned police, on foot and on horseback, to keep them from getting too much excited.  No one could guess what was going to happen, but every one felt that something was going to happen, and hoped he might have a chance to see it, or at least get the news of it while it was fresh.

At noon the House was empty—­for I do not count myself.  Half an hour later the two galleries were solidly packed, the floor still empty.  Another half-hour later Wolf entered and passed to his place; then other deputies began to stream in, among them many forms and faces grown familiar of late.  By one o’clock the membership was present in full force.  A band of Socialists stood grouped against the ministerial desks, in the shadow of the Presidential tribune.  It was observable that these official strongholds were now protected against rushes by bolted gates, and that these were in ward of servants wearing the House’s livery.  Also the removable desk-boards had been taken away, and nothing left for disorderly members to slat with.

There was a pervading, anxious hush—­at least what stood very well for a hush in that House.  It was believed by many that the Opposition was cowed, and that there would be no more obstruction, no more noise.  That was an error.

Presently the President entered by the distant door to the right, followed by Vice-President Fuchs, and the two took their way down past the Polish benches toward the tribune.  Instantly the customary storm of noises burst out, and rose higher and higher, and wilder and wilder, and really seemed to surpass anything that had gone before it in that place.  The President took his seat and begged for order, but no one could hear him.  His lips moved—­one could see that; he bowed his body forward appealingly, and spread his great hand eloquently over his breast—­one could see that; but as concerned his uttered words, he probably could not hear them himself.  Below him was that crowd of two dozen Socialists glaring up at him, shaking their fists at him, roaring imprecations and insulting epithets at him.  This went on for some time.  Suddenly the Socialists burst through the gates and stormed up through the ministerial benches, and a man in a red cravat reached up and snatched the documents that lay on the President’s desk and flung them abroad.  The next moment he and his allies were struggling and fighting with the half-dozen uniformed servants who were there to protect the new gates.  Meantime a detail of Socialists had swarmed up the side steps and overflowed the President and the Vice, and were crowding and shouldering and shoving them out of the place.  They crowded them out, and down the steps and across the House, past the Polish benches; and all about them swarmed hostile Poles and Czechs, who resisted them.  One could