moment he was glowing. A tall man in a black robe stood by his shoulder, and pointed to the half open door into the hall. This man was shouting close to his ear and yet what was said w

mitted a vast uneven tumult, a hammering, clapping and shouting that died away and began again, and rose to a thunderous pitch, and so continued intermitte

ese things and then stood up abruptly; he

cried. "Who am

ar his words. "Who am I?" Hi

him nothing!"

ell me!" cr

the Earth. You are ow

and, not to hear. He lifted his voice again. "I have been awake three days-a prisoner three

id the yo

ncern me? In some way it has to do with me. Why, I don't know. Drugs? It s

s under the Atlas? Why sh

ensible," said t

t your int

t w

the man in yellow. "The world is on yo

hese last words, came a deafening tumult, a roaring and thundering, cheer crowded on cheer, voices hoarse and s

e had just heard. "The Council," he repeated blankly, and then sn

organiser of the revolt.

nd you? Why is

u to show yourself to these people and then come on to him. That is why he

nger man. "They have ruled, cru

e! My name

ce under his red aquiline nose and bushy moustache. "No one expected you to wake. No one expected you to wake. They were

ll dominated

ices ready-. Even now there is

has it planned. Trust him. We have our organisations ready. We sha

n in yellow, "is only a contingent.

e gone from the streets and are massed in the-" (inaudible). "It is now o

eople calli

s presented an antagonism; on the one hand was the White Council, powerful, disciplined, few, the White Council from which he had just escaped; and on the other, monstrous crowds, packed masses of indistinguishable people

mult. These intruders came towards him and Lincoln gesticulating. The voices without explained their soundless li

in rags of dark brown, a gaunt figure, stood on the seat and waved a black cloth. He met the wonder and expectation of the girl's eyes. What did these people expect from him. He was dimly aware that the tumult outside had changed its character

le mass of people was chanting together. It was not simply a song, the voices were gathered together and upborne by a torrent of instrumental music, music like the music of an orga

f that chant took hold of him, stirred him, emboldened him. The hall

m," said Lincoln. "Wa

llowed Lincoln. He perceived the girl in grey close to him, her face lit, her gesture onward. For the instant she became to him, flushed and eager as she was, an embodiment of the song. He emerged in the alcove

" All his impressions were vague save the massive emotion of that trampling song. The multitude were beating time with their feet-marking time, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. The green weapons waved, flashed and slanted. Then he saw those nearest to him on a level space before the stage were marching in front of him, passing towards a great archway, shouting "To the Council!" Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. He raised his arm, and the roaring was redoubled. He remembered he had to shout "March!" His mouth shaped inaudible heroic words. He waved his arm again and pointed to the archway, shouting "Onward!" They were no longer marking time, they were marching; tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. In that host were

nd lean. Men and women of the new age! Strange and incredible meeting! As the broad stream passed before him to the right, tributary gangways from the remote uplands of the hall thrust downward in an incessant replacement of people; tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. The unison of the song w

faces were below the level of his feet. He was aware of a path before him, of a suite about him, of guards and dignities, and Lincoln on his right hand. Attendants intervened, and ever and again blotted out the sight of the multitude to the left. Before him went the backs of the guards in black-thre