‘And is not a Minister responsible to his Sovereign?’ inquired Millbank. Sir Joseph seemed a little confused. He had always heard that Ministers were responsible to Parliament; and he had a vague conviction, notwithstanding the reanimating loyalty of the Bed-Chamber Plot, that the Sovereign of England was a nonentity. He took refuge in indefinite expressions, and observed, ‘The Responsibility of Ministers is surely a constitutional doctrine.’ ‘The Ministers of the Crown are responsible to their master; they are not the Ministers of Parliament.’ ‘But then you know virtually,’ said Sir Joseph, ‘the Parliament, that is, the House of Commons, governs the country.’ ‘It did before 1832,’ said Coningsby; ‘but that is all past now. We got rid of that with the Venetian Constitution.’ ‘The Venetian Constitution!’ said Sir Joseph. ‘To be sure,’ said Millbank. ‘We were governed in this country by the Venetian Constitution from the accession of the House of Hanover. But that yoke is past. And now I hope we are in a state of transition from the Italian Dogeship to the English Monarchy.’ ‘King, Lords, and Commons, the Venetian Constitution!’ exclaimed Sir Joseph. ‘But they were phrases,’ said Coningsby, ‘not facts. The King was a Doge; the Cabinet the Council of Ten. Your Parliament, that you call Lords and Commons, was nothing more than the Great Council of Nobles.’ ‘The resemblance was complete,’ said Millbank, ‘and no wonder, for it was not accidental; the Venetian Constitution was intentionally copied.’ ‘We should have had the Venetian Republic in 1640,’ said Coningsby, ‘had it not been for the Puritans. Geneva beat Venice.’ ‘I am sure these ideas are not very generally known,’ said Sir Joseph, bewildered. ‘Because you have had your history written by the Venetian party,’ said Coningsby, ‘and it has been their interest to conceal them.’ ‘I will venture to say that there are very few men on our side in the House of Commons,’ said Sir Joseph, ‘who are aware that they were born under a Venetian Constitution.’ ‘Let us go to the ladies,’ said Millbank, smiling. Edith was reading a letter as they entered. ‘A letter from papa,’ she exclaimed, looking up at her brother with great animation. ‘We may expect him every day; and yet, alas! he cannot fix one.’ They now all spoke of Millbank, and Coningsby was happy that he was familiar with the scene. At length he ventured to say to Edith, ‘You once made me a promise which you never fulfilled. I shall claim it to-night.’ ‘And what can that be?’ ‘The song that you promised me at Millbank more than three years ago.’ ‘Your memory is good.’ ‘It has dwelt upon the subject.’