the patrician-第32章

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and　one　of　their　most　unfair　tactics　was　the　way　they　had　of　always
accusing　the　blues　of　unfair　fighting；　an　accusation　truly　ludicrous！
As　for　truth！　　That　which　helped　the　world　to　be　blue；　was　obviously
true；　that　which　didn't；　as　obviously　not。　　There　was　no　middle
policy！　　The　man　who　saw　things　neither　was　a　softy；　and　no　proper
citizen。　　And　as　for　giving　the　yellows　credit　for　sinceritythe
yellows　never　gave　them　credit！　　But　though　Courtier　knew　all　that；
this　poster　seemed　to　him　particularly　damnable；　and　he　could　not　for
the　life　of　him　resist　striking　one　of　the　sandwich…boards　with　his
cane。　　The　resounding　thwack　startled　a　butcher's　pony　standing　by
the　pavement。　　It　reared；　and　bolted　forward；　with　Courtier；　who　had
naturally　seized　the　rein；　hanging　on。　　A　dog　dashed　past。　　Courtier
tripped　and　fell。　　The　pony；　passing　over；　struck　him　on　the　head
with　a　hoof。　　For　a　moment　he　lost　consciousness；　then　coming　to
himself；　refused　assistance；　and　went　to　his　hotel。　　He　felt　very
giddy；　and；　after　bandaging　a　nasty　cut；　lay　down　on　his　bed。

Miltoun；　returning　from　that　necessary　exhibition　of　himself；　the
crowning　fact；　at　every　polling　centre；　found　time　to　go　and　see　him。

〃That　last　poster　of　yours！〃　Courtier　began；　at　once。

〃I'm　having　it　withdrawn。〃

〃It's　done　the　trickcongratulationsyou'll　get　in！〃

〃I　knew　nothing　of　it。〃

〃My　dear　fellow；　I　didn't　suppose　you　did。〃

〃When　there　is　a　desert；　Courtier；　between　a　man　and　the　sacred　city；
he　doesn't　renounce　his　journey　because　he　has　to　wash　in　dirty　water
on　the　way：　The　mobhow　I　loathe　it！〃

There　was　such　pent…up　fury　in　those　words　as　to　astonish　even　one
whose　life　had　been　passed　in　conflict　with　majorities。

〃I　hate　its　mean　stupidities；　I　hate　the　sound　of　its　voice；　and　the
look　on　its　faceit's　so　ugly；　it's　so　little。　　Courtier；　I　suffer
purgatory　from　the　thought　that　I　shall　scrape　in　by　the　votes　of　the
mob。　　There　is　sin　in　using　this　creature　and　I　am　expiating　it。〃

To　this　strange　outburst；　Courtier　at　first　made　no　reply。

〃You've　been　working　too　hard；〃　he　said　at　last；　〃you're　off　your
balance。　　After　all；　the　mob's　made　up　of　men　like　you　and　me。〃

〃No；　Courtier；　the　mob　is　not　made　up　of　men　like　you　and　me。　　If　it
were　it　would　not　be　the　mob。〃

〃It　looks；〃　Courtier　answered　gravely；　〃as　if　you　had　no　business　in
this　galley。　　I've　always　steered　clear　of　it　myself。〃

〃You　follow　your　feelings。　　I　have　not　that　happiness。〃

So　saying；　Miltoun　turned　to　the　door。

Courtier's　voice　pursued　him　earnestly。

〃Drop　your　politicsif　you　feel　like　this　about　them；　don't　waste
your　life　following　whatever　it　is　you　follow；　don't　waste　hers！〃

But　Miltoun　did　not　answer。

It　was　a　wondrous　still　night；　when；　a　few　minutes　before　twelve；
with　his　forehead　bandaged　under　his　hat；　the　champion　of　lost　causes
left　the　hotel　and　made　his　way　towards　the　Grammar　School　for　the
declaration　of　the　poll。　　A　sound　as　of　some　monster　breathing　guided
him；　till；　from　a　steep　empty　street　he　came　in　sight　of　a　surging

crowd；　spread　over　the　town　square；　like　a　dark　carpet　patterned　by
splashes　of　lamplight。　　High　up　above　that　crowd；　on　the　little
peaked　tower　of　the　Grammar　School；　a　brightly　lighted　clock　face
presided；　and　over　the　passionate　hopes　in　those　thousands　of　hearts
knit　together　by　suspense　the　sky　had　lifted；　and　showed　no　cloud
between　them　and　the　purple　fields　of　air。　　To　Courtier　descending
towards　the　square；　the　swaying　white　faces；　turned　all　one　way；
seemed　like　the　heads　of　giant　wild　flowers　in　a　dark　field；　shivered
by　wind。　　The　night　had　charmed　away　the　blue　and　yellow　facts；　and
breathed　down　into　that　throng　the　spirit　of　emotion。　　And　he
realized　all　at　once　the　beauty　and　meaning　of　this　sceneexpression
of　the　quivering　forces；　whose　perpetual　flux；　controlled　by　the
Spirit　of　Balance；　was　the　soul　of　the　world。　　Thousands　of　hearts
with　the　thought　of　self　lost　in　one　over…mastering　excitement！

An　old　man　with　a　long　grey　beard；　standing　close　to　his　elbow；
murmured：

〃'Tis　anxious　workI　wouldn't　ha'　missed　this　for　anything　in　the
world。〃

〃Fine；　eh？〃　answered　Courtier。

〃Aye；〃　said　the　old　man；　〃'tis　fine。　　I've　not　seen　the　like　o'　this
since　the　great　yearforty…eight。　　There　they　arethe　aristocrats！〃

Following　the　direction　of　that　skinny　hand　Courtier　saw　on　a　balcony
Lord　and　Lady　Valleys；　side　by　side；　looking　steadily　down　at　the
crowd。　　There　too；　leaning　against　a　window　and　talking　to　someone
behind；　was　Barbara。　　The　old　man　went　on　muttering；　and　Courtier
could　see　that　his　eyes　had　grown　very　bright；　his　whole　face
transfigured　by　intense　hostility；　he　felt　drawn　to　this　old
creature；　thus　moved　to　the　very　soul。　　Then　he　saw　Barbara　looking
down　at　him；　with　her　hand　raised　to　her　temple　to　show　that　she　saw
his　bandaged　head。　　He　had　the　presence　of　mind　not　to　lift　his　hat。

The　old　man　spoke　again。

〃You　wouldn't　remember　forty…eight；　I　suppose。　　There　was　a　feeling
in　the　people　thenwe　would　ha'　died　for　things　in　those　days。　　I'm
eighty…four；〃　and　he　held　his　shaking　hand　up　to　his　breast；　〃but　the
spirit's　alive　here　yet！　　God　send　the　Radical　gets　in！〃　　There　was
wafted　from　him　a　scent　as　of　potatoes。

Far　behind；　at　the　very　edge　of　the　vast　dark　throng；　some　voices
began　singing：　〃Way　down　upon　the　Swanee　ribber。〃　　The　tune　floated
forth；　ceased；　spurted　up　once　more；　and　died。

Then；　in　the　very　centre　of　the　square　a　stentorian　baritone　roared
forth：　〃Should　auld　acquaintance　be　forgot！〃

The　song　swelled；　till　every　kind　of　voice；　from　treble　to　the　old
Chartist's　quavering　bass；　was　chanting　it；　here　and　there　the　crowd
heaved　with　the　movement　of　linked　arms。　　Courtier　found　the　soft
fingers　of　a　young　woman　in　his　right　hand；　the　old　Chartist's　dry
trembling　paw　in　his　left。　　He　himself　sang　loudly。　　The　grave　and
fearful　music　sprang　straight　up　into　they　air；　rolled　out　right　and
left；　and　was　lost　among　the　hills。　　But　it　had　no　sooner　died　away
than　the　same　huge　baritone　yelled　〃God　save　our　gracious　King！〃　　The
stature　of　the　crowd　seemed　at　once　to　leap　up　two　feet；　and　from
under　that　platform　of　raised　hats　rose　a　stupendous　shouting。

〃This；〃　thought　Courtier；　〃is　religion！〃

They　were　singing　even　on　the　balconies；　by　the　lamplight　he　could
see　Lord　Valleys　mouth　not　opened　quite　enough；　as　though　his　voice
were　just　a　little　ashamed　of　coming　out；　and　Barbara　with　her　head
flung　back　against　the　pillar；　pouring　out　her　heart。　　No　mouth　in
all　the　crowd　was　silent。　　It　was　as　though　the　soul　of　the　English
people　were　escaping　from　its　dungeon　of　reserve；　on　the　pinions　of
that　chant。

But　suddenly；　like　a　shot　bird　closing　wings；　the　song　fell　silent
and　dived　headlong　back　to　earth。　　Out　from　under　the　clock…face　had
moved　a　thin　dark　figure。　　More　figures　came　behind。　　Courtier　could
see　Miltoun。　　A　voice　far　away　cried：　〃Up；　Chilcox！〃　　A　huge：
〃Husill〃　followed；　then　such　a　silence；　that　the　sound　of　an　engine
shunting　a　mile　away　could　be　heard　plainly。

The　dark　figure　moved　forward；　and　a　tiny　square　of　paper　gleamed　out
white　against　the　black　of　his　frock…coat。

〃Ladies　and　gentlemen。　　Result　of　the　Poll：

Miltoun　Four　thousand　eight　hundred　and　ninety…eight。　　Chilcox　Four
thousand　eight　hundred　and　two。〃

The　silence　seemed　to　fall　to　earth；　and　break　into　a　thousand
pieces。　　Through　the　pandemonium　of　cheers　and　groaning；　Courtier
with　all　his　strength　forced　himself　towards　the　balcony。　　He　could
see　Lord　Valleys　leaning　forward　with　a　broad　smile；　Lady　Valleys
passing　her　hand　across　her　eyes；　Barbara　with　her　hand　in
Harbinger's；　looking　straight　into　his　face。　　He　stopped。　　The　old
Chartist　was　still　beside　him；　tears　rolling　down　his　cheeks　into　his
beard。

Courtier　saw　Miltoun　come　forward；　and　stand；　unsmiling；　deathly
pale。






PART　II


CHAPTER　I

At　three　o'clock　in　the　afternoon　of　the　nineteenth　of　July　little
Ann　Shropton　commenced　the　ascent　of　the　main　staircase　of　Valleys
House；　London。　　She　climbed　slowly；　in　the　very　middle；　an　extremely
small　white　figure　on　those　wide　and　s