Black shirts of Florence and Tuscany! Fascisti! People! Where shall I find the necessary words to express the fullness of my feelings at this moment? My words cannot but be inadequate for the purpose. Your solemn, enthusiastic welcome stirs me to the depths of my heart. But it is certain that it is not only to me that you pay this extraordinary honour, but also, I think, to the idea of which I have been the inflexible protagonist. Florence reminds me of the days when we were few. (Deafening applause.) Here we held the first glorious meeting of the Italian “Fasci di Combattimento.” You remember, we had often to interrupt our meeting to go out and drive away the base rabble. (“Bravo!” Frantic applause.) We were few then! Well, in spite of this huge crowd here assembled, I say that we are still few, not with regard to the enemies who have been put to flight for ever, but with regard to the enormous tasks that lie before our Italy. (Applause.) I said that our enemies have been put to flight, as we shall no more do the honour of considering as enemies certain corpses of the Italian political world—(“Bravo!”)—who delude themselves that they still exist simply because they abuse our generosity. Tell me, then, Black shirts of Tuscany and of Florence, were it necessary to begin again, should we begin again? (Deafening applause and cries of “Yes! Yes!”) This loud cry of yours, more than a promise, is an oath which seals for ever the Italy of the past, the Italy of the swindlers, of the deceivers, of the pusillanimous, and opens the way to “our” Italy, the Italy whom we bear proudly in our hearts, who belongs to us who represent the new generation who adore strength, who is inspired by beauty, who is ready for anything when it is necessary to sacrifice herself to struggle and to die for the ideal. I tell you that Italy is going ahead. Two years ago, when the bestiality of the red demagogy raged, only twenty aeroplanes entered for the Baracca Cup. Last year they were thirty-five; this year, up to now, ninety. And as we have regained the mastery of the air, so we do not want the sea to imprison us. It must be, instead, the way for our necessary expansion in the world. (Great applause.) These, O Fascisti, Citizens, are the stupendous tasks which lie before us. And we shall not fail in our aim if each of you will engrave in his own heart the words by which is summed up the commandment of this ineffable hour of our history as a people: “Work,” which little by little must redeem us from foreign dependence; “Harmony,” which must make of the Italians one family; “Discipline,” by which at a given moment all Italians become one and march hand in hand towards the same goal.