THE PEOPLE MARCH
He aware of someone a of clear upon his attention, looked up and this was a dark man in a yellow garment. He took the forthwith, and in a moment he was glowing. A tall man in a black by his shoulder, and pointed to the open door into the hall. This man was close to his ear and yet what was said was of the from the great theatre. Behind the man was a girl in a robe, Graham, in this confusion, to be beautiful. Her dark eyes, full of wonder and curiosity, were on him, her apart. A opened door gave a of the hall, and a tumult, a hammering, and that died away and again, and rose to a pitch, and so all the time that Graham in the little room. He the of the man in black and that he was making some explanation.
He for some moments at these and then up abruptly; he the arm of this person.
"Tell me!" he cried. "Who am I? Who am I?"
The others came nearer to his words. "Who am I?" His their faces.
"They have told him nothing!" the girl.
"Tell me, tell me!" Graham.
"You are the Master of the Earth. You are owner of the world."
He did not he aright. He the persuasion. He not to understand, not to hear. He his voice again. "I have been three days—a three days. I judge there is some a number of people in this city—it is London?"
"Yes," said the man.
"And those who meet in the great with the white Atlas? How it me? In some way it has to do with me. Why, I don't know. Drugs? It to me that while I have slept the world has gone mad. I have gone mad…. Who are those Councillors under the Atlas? Why should they try to me?"
"To keep you insensible," said the man in yellow. "To prevent your interference."
"But why?"
"Because you are the Atlas, Sire," said the man in yellow. "The world is on your shoulders. They it in your name."
The from the had died into a by one voice. Now suddenly, on these last words, came a tumult, a and thundering, on cheer, voices and shrill, beating, overlapping, and while it the people in the little room not each other shout.
Graham stood, his to the thing he had just heard. "The Council," he blankly, and then at a name that had him. "But who is Ostrog?" he said.
"He is the organiser—the of the revolt. Our Leader—in your name."
"In my name?—And you? Why is he not here?"
"He—has us. I am his brother—his half-brother, Lincoln. He wants you to to these people and then come on to him. That is why he has sent. He is at the wind-vane offices directing. The people are marching."
"In your name," the man. "They have ruled, crushed, tyrannised. At last even—"
"In my name! My name! Master?"
The man in a pause of the thunder, and vociferous, a high voice under his red nose and moustache. "No one you to wake. No one you to wake. They were cunning. Damned tyrants! But they were taken by surprise. They did not know to you, you, kill you."
Again the everything.
"Ostrog is at the wind-vane offices ready—. Even now there is a of beginning."
The man who had called himself Lincoln came close to him. "Ostrog has it planned. Trust him. We have our ready. We shall the stages—. Even now he may be doing that. Then—"
"This public theatre," the man in yellow, "is only a contingent.
We have five of men—"
"We have arms," Lincoln. "We have plans. A leader. Their police have gone from the and are in the—" (inaudible). "It is now or never. The Council is rocking—They cannot trust their men—"
"Hear the people calling to you!"
Graham's mind was like a night of moon and clouds, now dark and hopeless, now clear and ghastly. He was Master of the Earth, he was a man with snow. Of all his the ones 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, crowds, packed of people his name, him Master. The other had him, his death. These thousands the little had him. But why these should be so he not understand.
The door opened, Lincoln's voice was away and drowned, and a of people on the of the tumult. These came him and Lincoln gesticulating. The voices without their lips. "Show us the Sleeper, us the Sleeper!" was the of the uproar. Men were for "Order! Silence!"
Graham the open doorway, and saw a tall, picture of the beyond, a waving, of crowded, faces, men and together, garments, hands. Many were standing, one man in of dark brown, a figure, on the seat and a black cloth. He met the wonder and of the girl's eyes. What did these people from him. He was aware that the had its character, was in some way beating, marching. His own mind, too, changed. For a space he did not the that was him. But a moment that was near to panic passed. He to make of what was of him.
Lincoln was in his ear, but Graham was to that. All the others save the woman the hall. He what had to the uproar. The whole of people was together. It was not a song, the voices were together and by a of music, music like the music of an organ, a of sounds, full of trumpets, full of banners, full of the and of opening war. And the of the people were time—tramp, tramp.
He was the door. He mechanically. The of that took of him, him, him. The opened to him, a of colour to the music.
"Wave your arm to them," said Lincoln. "Wave your arm to them."
"This," said a voice on the other side, "he must have this." Arms were about his him in the doorway, and a black subtly-folding from his shoulders. He his arm free of this and Lincoln. He the girl in close to him, her lit, her onward. For the she to him, and as she was, an of the song. He in the again. Incontinently the of the song upon his appearing, and up into a of shouting. Guided by Lincoln's hand he across the centre of the stage the people.
The was a and space—galleries, balconies, of steps, and great archways. Far away, high up, the mouth of a passage full of humanity. The whole was in masses. Individual out of the tumult, him momentarily, and again. Close to the a woman, by three men, her across her and a green staff. Next this group an old man in his place in the with difficulty, and a face, a great of mouth. A voice called that word "Ostrog." All his were save the of that song. The were time with their feet—marking time, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. The green waved, and slanted. Then he saw those nearest to him on a level space the stage were in of him, a great archway, "To the Council!" Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. He his arm, and the was redoubled. He he had to "March!" His mouth words. He his arm again and pointed to the archway, "Onward!" They were no longer marking time, they were marching; tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. In that were men, old men, youths, bare-armed women, girls. Men and of the new age! Rich robes, together in the of their movement the blue. A black banner its way to the right. He a blue-clad negro, a woman in yellow, then a group of tall fair-haired, white-faced, blue-clad men pushed past him. He noted two Chinamen. A tall, sallow, dark-haired, shining-eyed youth, white from top to toe, up the loyally, and again and receded, looking backward. Heads, shoulders, hands weapons, all were with those cadences.
Faces came out of the to him as he there, met his and passed and vanished. Men to him, personal things. Most of the were flushed, but many were white. And was there, and many a hand that to him was and lean. Men and of the new age! Strange and meeting! As the passed him to the right, from the of the in an of people; tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. The of the song was and by the of and passages. Men and in the ranks; tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp. The whole world marching. Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp; his brain was tramping. The onward, the by more abundantly.
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp; at Lincoln's pressure he the archway, walking in that rhythm, noticing his movement for the and of it. The multitude, the and song, all moved in that direction, the of people until the were the level of his feet. He was aware of a path him, of a about him, of and dignities, and Lincoln on his right hand. Attendants intervened, and and again out the of the to the left. Before him the of the in black—three and three and three. He was along a little way, and above the archway, with the to beneath, and up to him. He did not know he went; he did not want to know. He across a of hall. Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp.
