AN INTERVIEW WITH MUSSOLINI

Mussolini seemed to be a good man to interview; so I got an interview with him.

“Mr. Mussolini,” I said, “as I understand your theory of government, while it is not without its Greek foundations, it dates even farther back, in its essence, to the Assyrian system.”

“What?” asked Mussolini.

“I said, as I understood your theory of government, while it is not without its Greek foundations, it dates even farther back to the ancient Assyrian system. Am I right?”

“Assyrian here seen Kelly? K-E-double L-Y. That was a good song, too,” said Il Duce.

“A good song is right,” I replied. “And now might I ask, how did you come by that beard?”

“That is not a beard,” replied the Great Man. “That is my forehead. I am smooth-shaven, as a matter of fact.”

“So you are, so you are,” I apologized. “I was forgetting.”

We both sat silent for a while, thinking of the old days in Syracuse High.

“Whatever became of her?” It was Il Kuce who broke the silence.

“She married and went to Hingham to live,” I replied, watching him closely.

He went white for the fraction of a second. Then he turned to me and said:

“Give me your A, will you, please?”

So I gave him my A and we played “Yes Patineurs” (“The Skaters”), and very pretty, too.

“I had almost forgotten how it went,” he said.

“You have forgotten how it went,” I corrected him. “You play awful.”

Laughter followed this remark of mine. But I noticed that Mussolini was not laughing.

“But about your theory of government,” I said, hoping to bring the roses back into those cheeks. “A lot of people try to tell me that it is Phonician, but I always say ‘No!’”

“What is it they say it is?” asked Il Huce, all a-tremble with excitement.

“Phœnician,” I repeated, putting in the “e.”

“That’s a tough one,” he said. “You’ll have to give me a couple of minutes on that. Phœnician, eh?... Phœnician drive up in a hack and ask yer.” He put this forward tentatively.

“Not so good, Il Duce,” I commented.

His eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, well, then,” I compromised, “have it your own way.”

“I’ll have it with plain water, please, and a little lemon-rind.” It was the Imperator who spoke.

I signaled to the driver.

“Stop the interview,” I said simply.