The rooms and passages and staircases at Mrs Gresham’s house were very crowded when Phineas arrived there. Men of all shades of politics were there, and the wives and daughters of such men; and there was a streak of royalty in one of the saloons, and a whole rainbow of foreign ministers with their stars, and two blue ribbons were to be seen together on the first landing-place, with a stout lady between them carrying diamonds enough to load a pannier. Everybody was there. Phineas found that even Lord Chiltern was come, as he stumbled across his friend on the first foot-ground that he gained in his ascent towards the rooms. “Halloa — you here?” said Phineas. “Yes, by George!” said the other, but I am going to escape as soon as possible. I’ve been trying to make my way up for the last hour, but could never get round that huge promontory there. Laura was more persevering.” “Is Kennedy here? Phineas whispered. “I do not know,” said Chiltern, but she was determined to run the chance.”

A little higher up — for Phineas was blessed with more patience than Lord Chiltern possessed — he came upon Mr Monk. “So you are still admitted privately,” said Phineas.

“Oh dear yes — and we have just been having a most friendly conversation about you. What a man he is! He knows everything. He is so accurate; so just in the abstract — and in the abstract so generous!”

“He has been very generous to me in detail as well as in abstract,” said Phineas.

“Ah, yes; I am not thinking of individuals exactly. His want of generosity is to large masses — to a party, to classes, to a people; whereas his generosity is for mankind at large. He assumes the god, affects to nod, and seems to shake the spheres. But I have nothing against him. He has asked me here tonight, and has talked to me most familiarly about Ireland.”

“What do you think of your chance of a second reading?” asked Phineas.

“What do you think of it? — you hear more of those things than I do.”

“Everybody says it will be a close division.”

“I never expected it,” said Mr Monk.

“Nor I, till I heard what Daubeny said at the first reading. They will all vote for the bill en masse — hating it in their hearts all the time.”

“Let us hope they are not so bad as that.”

“It is the way with them always. They do all our work for us — sailing either on one tack or the other. That is their use in creation, that when we split among ourselves, as we always do, they come in and finish our job for us. It must be unpleasant for them to be always doing that which they always say should never be done at all.”

“Wherever the gift horse may come from, I shall not look it in the mouth,” said Mr Monk. “There is only one man in the House whom I hope I may not see in the lobby with me, and that is yourself.”

“The question is decided now,” said Phineas.

“And how is it decided?”

Phineas could not tell his friend that a question of so great magnitude to him had been decided by the last sting which he had received from an insect so contemptible as Mr Bonteen, but he expressed the feeling as well as he knew how to express it. “Oh, I shall be with you. I know what you are going to say, and I know how good you are. But I could not stand it. Men are beginning already to say things which almost make me get up and kick them. If I can help it, I will give occasion to no man to hint anything to me which can make me be so wretched as I have been today. Pray do not say anything more. My idea is that I shall resign tomorrow.”

“Then I hope that we may fight the battle side by side,” said Mr Monk, giving him his hand.

“We will fight the battle side by side,” replied Phineas.

After that he pushed his way still higher up the stairs, having no special purpose in view, not dreaming of any such success as that of reaching his host or hostess — merely feeling that it should be a point of honour with him to make a tour through the rooms before he descended the stairs. The thing, he thought, was to be done with courage and patience, and this might, probably, be the last time in his life that he would find himself in the house of a Prime Minister. Just at the turn of the balustrade at the top of the stairs, he found Mr Gresham in the very spot on which Mr Monk had been talking with him. “Very glad to see you,” said Mr Gresham, You, I find, are a persevering man, with a genius for getting upwards.”

“Like the sparks,” said Phineas.

“Not quite so quickly,” said Mr Gresham.

“But with the same assurance of speedy loss of my little light.”

It did not suit Mr Gresham to understand this, so he changed the subject. “Have you seen the news from America?”

“Yes, I have seen it, but do not believe it,” said Phineas.

“Ah, you have such faith in a combination of British colonies, properly backed in Downing Street, as to think them strong against a world in arms. In your place I should hold to the same doctrine — hold to it stoutly.”

“And you do now, I hope, Mr Gresham?”

“Well — yes — I am not downhearted. But I confess to a feeling that the world would go on even though we had nothing to say to a single province in North America. But that is for your private ear. You are not to whisper that in Downing Street.” Then there came up somebody else, and Phineas went on upon his slow course. He had longed for an opportunity to tell Mr Gresham that he could go to Downing Street no more, but such opportunity had not reached him.

For a long time he found himself stuck close by the side of Miss Fitzgibbon — Miss Aspasia Fitzgibbon — who had once relieved him from terrible pecuniary anxiety by paying for him a sum of money which was due by him on her brother’s account. “It’s a very nice thing to be here, but one does get tired of it,” said Miss Fitzgibbon.

“Very tired,” said Phineas.

“Of course it is a part of your duty, Mr Finn. You are on your promotion and are bound to be here. When I asked Laurence............