when the sleeper wakes-第15部分

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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；〃　shouted　the　younger　man。　〃They

have　ruled；　crushed；　tyrannised。　At　last　even〃



〃In　my　name！　My　name！　Master？〃



The　younger　man　suddenly　became　audible　in　a

pause　of　the　outer　thunder；　indignant　and　vociferous；

a　high　penetrating　voice　under　his　red　aquiline　nose

and　bushy　moustache。　〃No　one　expected　you　to

wake。　No　one　expected　you　to　wake。　They　were

cunning。　Damned　tyrants！　But　they　were　taken　by

surprise。　They　did　not　know　whether　to　drug　you；

hypnotise　you；　kill　you。〃



Again　the　hall　dominated　everything。



〃Ostrog　is　at　the　wind…vane　offices　ready。　Even

now　there　is　a　rumour　of　fighting　beginning。〃



The　man　who　had　called　himself　Lincoln　came　close

to　him。　〃Ostrog　has　it　planned。　Trust　him。　We

have　our　organisations　ready。　We　shall　seize　the

flying　stages。　Even　now　he　may　be　doing　that。

Then〃



〃This　public　theatre；〃　bawled　the　man　in　yellow；

〃is　only　a　contingent。　We　have　five　myriads　of

drilled　men〃



〃We　have　arms；〃　cried　Lincoln。　〃We　have　plans。

A　leader。　Their　police　have　gone　from　the　streets

and　are　massed　in　the〃　（inaudible）。〃　It　is　now　or

never。　The　Council　is　rocking　They　cannot　trust

even　their　drilled　men〃



〃Hear　the　people　calling　to　you！〃



Graham's　mind　was　like　a　night　of　moon　and　swift

clouds；　now　dark　and　hopeless；　now　clear　and　ghastly。

He　was　Master　of　the　Earth；　he　was　a　man　sodden

with　thawing　snow。　Of　all　his　fluctuating　impressions

the　dominant　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；　monstrous　crowds；　packed

masses　of　indistinguishable　people　clamouring　his

name；　hailing　him　Master。　The　other　side　had

imprisoned　him；　debated　his　death。　These　shouting

thousands　beyond　the　little　doorway　had　rescued　him。

But　why　these　things　should　be　so　he　could　not

understand。



The　door　opened；　Lincoln's　voice　was　swept　away

and　drowned；　and　a　rush　of　people　followed　on　the

heels　of　the　tumult。　These　intruders　came　towards

him　and　Lincoln　gesticulating。　The　voices　without

explained　their　soundless　lips。　〃Show　us　the　Sleeper；

show　us　the　Sleeper！〃　was　the　burden　of　the　uproar

Men　were　bawling　for　〃Order！　Silence！〃



Graham　glanced　towards　the　open　doorway；　and

saw　a　tall；　oblong　picture　of　the　hall　beyond；　a　

waving；　incessant　confusion　of　crowded；　shouting　faces；

men　and　women　together；　waving　pale　blue　garments；

extended　hands。　Many　were　standing；　one　man　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；　was　in　some

way　beating；　marching。　His　own　mind；　too；　changed。

for　a　space　he　did　not　recognise　the　influence　that

was　transforming　him。　But　a　moment　that　was　near

to　panic　passed。　He　tried　to　make　audible　inquiries

of　what　was　required　of　him。



Lincoln　was　shouting　in　his　ear；　but　Graham　was

deafened　to　that。　All　the　others　save　the　woman　

gesticulated　towards　the　hall。　He　perceived　what　had

happened　to　the　uproar。　The　whole　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　organ；　a　woven　texture　of　sounds；　full　of　trumpets；

full　of　flaunting　banners；　full　of　the　march　and

pageantry　of　opening　war。　And　the　feet　of　the　people

were　beating　timetramp；　tramp。



He　was　urged　towards　the　door。　He　obeyed

mechanically。　The　strength　of　that　chant　took　hold

of　him；　stirred　him；　emboldened　him。　The　hall　opened

to　him；　a　vast　welter　of　fluttering　colour　swaying　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　neck　detaining　him

in　the　doorway；　and　a　black　subtly…folding　mantle

hung　from　his　shoulders。　He　threw　his　arm　free　of　this

and　followed　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　again。　Incontinently　the　mounting　waves

of　the　song　broke　upon　his　appearing；　and　flashed　up

into　a　foam　of　shouting。　Guided　by　Lincoln's　hand

he　marched　obliquely　across　the　centre　of　the　stage

facing　the　people。



The　hall　was　a　vast　and　intricate　spacegalleries；

balconies；　broad　spaces　of　amphitheatral　steps；　and

great　archways。　Far　away；　high　up；　seemed　the

mouth　of　a　huge　passage　full　of　struggling　humanity。

The　whole　multitude　was　swaying　in　congested　masses。

Individual　figures　sprang　out　of　the　tumult；　impressed

him　momentarily；　and　lost　definition　again。　Close　to

the　platform　swayed　a　beautiful　fair　woman；　carried

by　three　men；　her　hair　across　her　face　and　brandishing

a　green　staff。　Next　this　group　an　old　careworn　man

in　blue　canvas　maintained　his　place　in　the　crush　with

difficulty；　and　behind　shouted　a　hairless　face；　a　great

cavity　of　toothless　mouth。　A　voice　called　that　

enigmatical　word　〃Ostrog。〃　All　his　impressions　were

vague　save　the　massive　emotion　of　that　trampling

song。　The　multitude　were　beating　time　with　their

feetmarking　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　bearded　men；

old　men；　youths；　fluttering　robed　bare…armed　women；

girls。　Men　and　women　of　the　new　age！　Rich　robes；

grey　rags　fluttered　together　in　the　whirl　of　their　

movement　amidst　the　dominant　blue。　A　monstrous　black

banner　jerked　its　way　to　the　right。　He　perceived　a

blue…clad　negro；　a　shrivelled　woman　in　yellow；　then　a

group　of　tall　fair…haired；　white…faced；　blue…clad　men

pushed　theatrically　past　him。　He　noted　two　Chinamen。　

A　tall；　sallow；　dark…haired；　shining…eyed　youth；

white　clad　from　top　to　toe；　clambered　up　towards　the

platform　shouting　loyally；　and　sprang　down　again　and

receded；　looking　backward。　Heads；　shoulders；　hands

clutching　weapons；　all　were　swinging　with　those　

marching　cadences。



Faces　came　out　of　the　confusion　to　him　as　he　stood

there；　eyes　met　his　and　passed　and　vanished。　Men

gesticulated　to　him；　shouted　inaudible　personal　things。

Most　of　the　faces　were　flushed；　but　many　were　ghastly

white。　And　disease　was　there；　and　many　a　hand　that

waved　to　him　was　gaunt　and　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　was　enriched　and　complicated　by　the　massive

echoes　of　arches　and　passages。　Men　and　women

mingled　in　the　ranks；　tramp；　tramp；　tramp；　tramp。

The　whole　world　seemed　marching。　Tramp；　tramp；

tramp；　tramp；　his　brain　was　tramping。　The　garments

waved　onward；　the　faces　poured　by　more　abundantly。



Tramp；　tramp；　tramp；　tramp；　at　Lincoln's　pressure

he　turned　towards　the　archway；　walking　unconsciously

in　that　rhythm；　scarcely　noticing　his　movement　for　the

melody　and　stir　of　it。　The　multitude；　the　gesture　and

song；　all　moved　in　that　direction；　the　flow　of　people

smote　downward　until　the　upturned　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　blackthree　and　three　and　three。　He　was

marched　along　a　little　railed　way；　and　crossed　above

the　archway；　with　the　torrent　dipping　to　flow　beneath；

and　shouting　up　to　him。　He　did　not　know　whither

he　went；　he　did　not　want　to　know。　He　glanced　back

across　a　flaming　spaciousness　of　hall。　Tramp；　tramp；

tramp；　tramp。



CHAPTER　X



THE　BATTLE　OF　THE　DARKNESS



He　was　no　longer　in　the　hall。　He　was　marching

along　a　gallery　overhanging　one　of　the　great　streets

of　the　moving　platforms　that　traversed　the　city。

Before　him　and　behind　him　tramped　his　guards。　The

whole　concave　of　the　moving　ways　below　was　a　

congested　mass　of　people　marching；　tramping　to　the　left；

shouting；　waving　hands　and　arms；　pouring　along　a

huge　vista；　shouting　as　they　came　into　view；　shouting

as　they　passed；　shouting　as　they　receded；　until　the

globes　of　electric　light　receding　in　perspective　dropped

down　it　seemed　and　hid　the　swarming　bare　heads。

Tramp；　tramp；　tramp；　tramp。



The　song　roared　up　to　Graham　now；　no　longer

upborne　by　music；　but　coarse　and　noisy；　and　the　

beating　of　the　marching　feet；　tramp；　tramp；　tramp；　tramp；

interwove　with　a　thunderous　irregularity　of　footsteps

from　the　undisciplined　rabble　that　poured　along　the

higher　ways。



Abruptly　he　noted　a　contrast。　The　buildings　on

the　opposite　side　of　the　way　seemed　deserted；　the

cables　and　bridges　that　laced　across　the　aisle　were

empty　and　shadowy。　It　came　into　Graham's　mind

that　these　also　should　have　swarmed　with　people。



He　felt　a　curious　emotionthrobbingvery　fast！

He　stopped　again。　The　guards　before　him　marched

on；　tho