第8章

"Idon’tthinkofSundayonprinciple，"saidGogolsimply，"anymorethanIstareatthesunatnoonday。"

"Well，thatisapointofview，"saidSymethoughtfully。"Whatdoyousay，Professor？"

TheProfessorwaswalkingwithbentheadandtrailingstick，andhedidnotansweratall。

"Wakeup，Professor！"saidSymegenially。"TelluswhatyouthinkofSunday。"

TheProfessorspokeatlastveryslowly。

"Ithinksomething，"hesaid，"thatIcannotsayclearly。Or，rather，IthinksomethingthatIcannoteventhinkclearly。Butitissomethinglikethis。Myearlylife，asyouknow，wasabittoolargeandloose。

Well，whenIsawSunday’sfaceIthoughtitwastoolarge——

everybodydoes，butIalsothoughtitwastooloose。Thefacewassobig，thatonecouldn’tfocusitormakeitafaceatall。

Theeyewassofarawayfromthenose，thatitwasn’taneye。

Themouthwassomuchbyitself，thatonehadtothinkofitbyitself。Thewholethingistoohardtoexplain。"

Hepausedforalittle，stilltrailinghisstick，andthenwenton——

"Butputitthisway。Walkinguparoadatnight，Ihaveseenalampandalightedwindowandacloudmaketogetheramostcompleteandunmistakableface。IfanyoneinheavenhasthatfaceIshallknowhimagain。YetwhenIwalkedalittlefartherIfoundthattherewasnoface，thatthewindowwastenyardsaway，thelamptenhundredyards，thecloudbeyondtheworld。Well，Sunday’sfaceescapedme;itranawaytorightandleft，assuchchancepicturesrunaway。Andsohisfacehasmademe，somehow，doubtwhetherthereareanyfaces。Idon’tknowwhetheryourface，Bull，isafaceoracombinationinperspective。Perhapsoneblackdiscofyourbeastlyglassesisquitecloseandanotherfiftymilesaway。Oh，thedoubtsofamaterialistarenotworthadump。Sundayhastaughtmethelastandtheworstdoubts，thedoubtsofaspiritualist。IamaBuddhist，Isuppose;andBuddhismisnotacreed，itisadoubt。MypoordearBull，Idonotbelievethatyoureallyhaveaface。I

havenotfaithenoughtobelieveinmatter。"

Syme’seyeswerestillfixedupontheerrantorb，which，reddenedintheeveninglight，lookedlikesomerosierandmoreinnocentworld。

"Haveyounoticedanoddthing，"hesaid，"aboutallyourdescriptions？EachmanofyoufindsSundayquitedifferent，yeteachmanofyoucanonlyfindonethingtocomparehimto——theuniverseitself。Bullfindshimliketheearthinspring，Gogollikethesunatnoonday。TheSecretaryisremindedoftheshapelessprotoplasm，andtheInspectorofthecarelessnessofvirginforests。TheProfessorsaysheislikeachanginglandscape。Thisisqueer，butitisqueererstillthatIalsohavehadmyoddnotionaboutthePresident，andIalsofindthatIthinkofSundayasIthinkofthewholeworld。"

"Getonalittlefaster，Syme，"saidBull;"nevermindtheballoon。"

"WhenIfirstsawSunday，"saidSymeslowly，"Ionlysawhisback;

andwhenIsawhisback，Iknewhewastheworstmanintheworld。

Hisneckandshoulderswerebrutal，likethoseofsomeapishgod。

Hisheadhadastoopthatwashardlyhuman，likethestoopofanox。Infact，Ihadatoncetherevoltingfancythatthiswasnotamanatall，butabeastdressedupinmen’sclothes。"

"Geton，"saidDr。Bull。

"Andthenthequeerthinghappened。Ihadseenhisbackfromthestreet，ashesatinthebalcony。ThenIenteredthehotel，andcomingroundtheothersideofhim，sawhisfaceinthesunlight。

Hisfacefrightenedme，asitdideveryone;butnotbecauseitwasbrutal，notbecauseitwasevil。Onthecontrary，itfrightenedmebecauseitwassobeautiful，becauseitwassogood。"

"Syme，"exclaimedtheSecretary，"areyouill？"

"Itwaslikethefaceofsomeancientarchangel，judgingjustlyafterheroicwars。Therewaslaughterintheeyes，andinthemouthhonourandsorrow。Therewasthesamewhitehair，thesamegreat，grey—cladshouldersthatIhadseenfrombehind。ButwhenIsawhimfrombehindIwascertainhewasananimal，andwhenIsawhiminfrontIknewhewasagod。"

"Pan，"saidtheProfessordreamily，"wasagodandananimal。"

"Then，andagainandalways，"wentonSymelikeamantalkingtohimself，"thathasbeenformethemysteryofSunday，anditisalsothemysteryoftheworld。WhenIseethehorribleback，Iamsurethenoblefaceisbutamask。WhenIseethefacebutforaninstant，Iknowthebackisonlyajest。Badissobad，thatwecannotbutthinkgoodanaccident;goodissogood，thatwefeelcertainthatevilcouldbeexplained。ButthewholecametoakindofcrestyesterdaywhenIracedSundayforthecab，andwasjustbehindhimalltheway。"

"Hadyoutimeforthinkingthen？"askedRatcliffe。

"Time，"repliedSyme，"foroneoutrageousthought。Iwassuddenlypossessedwiththeideathattheblind，blankbackofhisheadreallywashisface——anawful，eyelessfacestaringatme！AndI

fanciedthatthefigurerunninginfrontofmewasreallyafigurerunningbackwards，anddancingasheran。"

"Horrible！"saidDr。Bull，andshuddered。

"Horribleisnottheword，"saidSyme。"Itwasexactlytheworstinstantofmylife。Andyettenminutesafterwards，whenheputhisheadoutofthecabandmadeagrimacelikeagargoyle，Iknewthathewasonlylikeafatherplayinghide—and—seekwithhischildren。"

"Itisalonggame，"saidtheSecretary，andfrownedathisbrokenboots。

"Listentome，"criedSymewithextraordinaryemphasis。"ShallI

tellyouthesecretofthewholeworld？Itisthatwehaveonlyknownthebackoftheworld。Weseeeverythingfrombehind，anditlooksbrutal。Thatisnotatree，butthebackofatree。Thatisnotacloud，butthebackofacloud。Cannotyouseethateverythingisstoopingandhidingaface？Ifwecouldonlygetroundinfront——"

"Look！"criedoutBullclamorously，"theballooniscomingdown！"

TherewasnoneedtocryouttoSyme，whohadnevertakenhiseyesoffit。Hesawthegreatluminousglobesuddenlystaggerinthesky，rightitself，andthensinkslowlybehindthetreeslikeasettingsun。

ThemancalledGogol，whohadhardlyspokenthroughalltheirwearytravels，suddenlythrewuphishandslikealostspirit。

"Heisdead！"hecried。"AndnowIknowhewasmyfriend——myfriendinthedark！"

"Dead！"snortedtheSecretary。"Youwillnotfindhimdeadeasily。

Ifhehasbeentippedoutofthecar，weshallfindhimrollingasacoltrollsinafield，kickinghislegsforfun。"

"Clashinghishoofs，"saidtheProfessor。"Thecoltsdo，andsodidPan。"

"Panagain！"saidDr。Bullirritably。"YouseemtothinkPaniseverything。"

"Soheis，"saidtheProfessor，"inGreek。Hemeanseverything。"

"Don’tforget，"saidtheSecretary，lookingdown，"thathealsomeansPanic。"

Symehadstoodwithouthearinganyoftheexclamations。

"Itfelloverthere，"hesaidshortly。"Letusfollowit！"

Thenheaddedwithanindescribablegesture——

"Oh，ifhehascheatedusallbygettingkilled！Itwouldbelikeoneofhislarks。"

Hestrodeofftowardsthedistanttreeswithanewenergy，hisragsandribbonsflutteringinthewind。Theothersfollowedhiminamorefootsoreanddubiousmanner。Andalmostatthesamemomentallsixmenrealisedthattheywerenotaloneinthelittlefield。

Acrossthesquareofturfatallmanwasadvancingtowardsthem，leaningonastrangelongstafflikeasceptre。Hewascladinafinebutold—fashionedsuitwithknee—breeches;itscolourwasthatshadebetweenblue，violetandgreywhichcanbeseenincertainshadowsofthewoodland。Hishairwaswhitishgrey，andatthefirstglance，takenalongwithhisknee—breeches，lookedasifitwaspowdered。Hisadvancewasveryquiet;butforthesilverfrostuponhishead，hemighthavebeenonetotheshadowsofthewood。

"Gentlemen，"hesaid，"mymasterhasacarriagewaitingforyouintheroadjustby。"

"Whoisyourmaster？"askedSyme，standingquitestill。

"Iwastoldyouknewhisname，"saidthemanrespectfully。

Therewasasilence，andthentheSecretarysaid——

"Whereisthiscarriage？"

"Ithasbeenwaitingonlyafewmoments，"saidthestranger。"Mymasterhasonlyjustcomehome。"

Symelookedleftandrightuponthepatchofgreenfieldinwhichhefoundhimself。Thehedgeswereordinaryhedges，thetreesseemedordinarytrees;yethefeltlikeamanentrappedinfairyland。

Helookedthemysteriousambassadorupanddown，buthecoulddiscovernothingexceptthattheman’scoatwastheexactcolourofthepurpleshadows，andthattheman’sfacewastheexactcolouroftheredandbrownandgoldensky。

"Showustheplace，"Symesaidbriefly，andwithoutawordthemaninthevioletcoatturnedhisbackandwalkedtowardsagapinthehedge，whichletinsuddenlythelightofawhiteroad。

Asthesixwanderersbrokeoutuponthisthoroughfare，theysawthewhiteroadblockedbywhatlookedlikealongrowofcarriages，sucharowofcarriagesasmightclosetheapproachtosomehouseinParkLane。Alongthesideofthesecarriagesstoodarankofsplendidservants，alldressedinthegrey—blueuniform，andallhavingacertainqualityofstatelinessandfreedomwhichwouldnotcommonlybelongtotheservantsofagentleman，butrathertotheofficialsandambassadorsofagreatking。Therewerenolessthansixcarriageswaiting，oneforeachofthetatteredandmiserableband。Alltheattendants（asifincourt—dress）woreswords，andaseachmancrawledintohiscarriagetheydrewthem，andsalutedwithasuddenblazeofsteel。

"Whatcanitallmean？"askedBullofSymeastheyseparated。"IsthisanotherjokeofSunday’s？"

"Idon’tknow，"saidSymeashesankwearilybackinthecushionsofhiscarriage;"butifitis，it’soneofthejokesyoutalkabout。It’sagood—naturedone。"

Thesixadventurershadpassedthroughmanyadventures，butnotonehadcarriedthemsoutterlyofftheirfeetasthislastadventureofcomfort。Theyhadallbecomeinuredtothingsgoingroughly;butthingssuddenlygoingsmoothlyswampedthem。Theycouldnotevenfeeblyimaginewhatthecarriageswere;itwasenoughforthemtoknowthattheywerecarriages，andcarriageswithcushions。Theycouldnotconceivewhotheoldmanwaswhohadledthem;butitwasquiteenoughthathehadcertainlyledthemtothecarriages。

Symedrovethroughadriftingdarknessoftreesinutterabandonment。Itwastypicalofhimthatwhilehehadcarriedhisbeardedchinforwardfiercelysolongasanythingcouldbedone，whenthewholebusinesswastakenoutofhishandshefellbackonthecushionsinafrankcollapse。

Verygraduallyandveryvaguelyherealisedintowhatrichroadsthecarriagewascarryinghim。Hesawthattheypassedthestonegatesofwhatmighthavebeenapark，thattheybegangraduallytoclimbahillwhich，whilewoodedonbothsides，wassomewhatmoreorderlythanaforest。Thentherebegantogrowuponhim，asuponamanslowlywakingfromahealthysleep，apleasureineverything。

Hefeltthatthehedgeswerewhathedgesshouldbe，livingwalls;

thatahedgeislikeahumanarmy，disciplined，butallthemorealive。Hesawhighelmsbehindthehedges，andvaguelythoughthowhappyboyswouldbeclimbingthere。Thenhiscarriagetookaturnofthepath，andhesawsuddenlyandquietly，likealong，low，sunsetcloud，along，lowhouse，mellowinthemildlightofsunset。Allthesixfriendscomparednotesafterwardsandquarrelled;buttheyallagreedthatinsomeunaccountablewaytheplaceremindedthemoftheirboyhood。Itwaseitherthiselm—toporthatcrookedpath，itwaseitherthisscrapoforchardorthatshapeofawindow;buteachmanofthemdeclaredthathecouldrememberthisplacebeforehecouldrememberhismother。

Whenthecarriageseventuallyrolleduptoalarge，low，cavernousgateway，anothermaninthesameuniform，butwearingasilverstaronthegreybreastofhiscoat，cameouttomeetthem。ThisimpressivepersonsaidtothebewilderedSyme——

"Refreshmentsareprovidedforyouinyourroom。"

Syme，undertheinfluenceofthesamemesmericsleepofamazement，wentupthelargeoakenstairsaftertherespectfulattendant。Heenteredasplendidsuiteofapartmentsthatseemedtobedesignedspeciallyforhim。Hewalkeduptoalongmirrorwiththeordinaryinstinctofhisclass，topullhistiestraightortosmoothhishair;andtherehesawthefrightfulfigurethathewas——bloodrunningdownhisfacefromwheretheboughhadstruckhim，hishairstandingoutlikeyellowragsofrankgrass，hisclothestornintolong，waveringtatters。Atoncethewholeenigmasprangup，simplyasthequestionofhowhehadgotthere，andhowhewastogetoutagain。Exactlyatthesamemomentamaninblue，whohadbeenappointedashisvalet，saidverysolemnly——

"Ihaveputoutyourclothes，sir。"

"Clothes！"saidSymesardonically。"Ihavenoclothesexceptthese，"andheliftedtwolongstripsofhisfrock—coatinfascinatingfestoons，andmadeamovementasiftotwirllikeaballetgirl。

"Mymasterasksmetosay，"saidtheattendant，thatthereisafancydressballtonight，andthathedesiresyoutoputonthecostumethatIhavelaidout。Meanwhile，sir，thereisabottleofBurgundyandsomecoldpheasant，whichhehopesyouwillnotrefuse，asitissomehoursbeforesupper。"

"Coldpheasantisagoodthing，"saidSymereflectively，"andBurgundyisaspankinggoodthing。ButreallyIdonotwanteitherofthemsomuchasIwanttoknowwhatthedevilallthismeans，andwhatsortofcostumeyouhavegotlaidoutforme。Whereisit？"

Theservantliftedoffakindofottomanalongpeacock—bluedrapery，ratherofthenatureofadomino，onthefrontofwhichwasemblazonedalargegoldensun，andwhichwassplashedhereandtherewithflamingstarsandcrescents。

"You’retobedressedasThursday，sir，"saidthevaletsomewhataffably。

"DressedasThursday！"saidSymeinmeditation。"Itdoesn’tsoundawarmcostume。"

"Oh，yes，sir，"saidtheothereagerly，"theThursdaycostumeisquitewarm，sir。Itfastensuptothechin。"

"Well，Idon’tunderstandanything，"saidSyme，sighing。"Ihavebeenusedsolongtouncomfortableadventuresthatcomfortableadventuresknockmeout。Still，ImaybeallowedtoaskwhyI

shouldbeparticularlylikeThursdayinagreenfrockspottedalloverwiththesunandmoon。Thoseorbs，Ithink，shineonotherdays。IoncesawthemoononTuesday，Iremember。"

"Begpardon，sir，"saidthevalet，"Biblealsoprovidedforyou，"

andwitharespectfulandrigidfingerhepointedoutapassageinthefirstchapterofGenesis。Symereaditwondering。Itwasthatinwhichthefourthdayoftheweekisassociatedwiththecreationofthesunandmoon。Here，however，theyreckonedfromaChristianSunday。

"Thisisgettingwilderandwilder，"saidSyme，ashesatdowninachair。"WhoarethesepeoplewhoprovidecoldpheasantandBurgundy，andgreenclothesandBibles？Dotheyprovideeverything？"

"Yes，sir，everything，"saidtheattendantgravely。"ShallIhelpyouonwithyourcostume？"

"Oh，hitchtheballythingon！"saidSymeimpatiently。

Butthoughheaffectedtodespisethemummery，hefeltacuriousfreedomandnaturalnessinhismovementsastheblueandgoldgarmentfellabouthim;andwhenhefoundthathehadtowearasword，itstirredaboyishdream。Ashepassedoutoftheroomheflungthefoldsacrosshisshoulderwithagesture，hisswordstoodoutatanangle，andhehadalltheswaggerofatroubadour。

Forthesedisguisesdidnotdisguise，butreveal。

CHAPTERXV

THEACCUSER

ASSymestrodealongthecorridorhesawtheSecretarystandingatthetopofagreatflightofstairs。Themanhadneverlookedsonoble。Hewasdrapedinalongrobeofstarlessblack，downthecentreofwhichfellabandorbroadstripeofpurewhite，likeasingleshaftoflight。Thewholelookedlikesomeverysevereecclesiasticalvestment。TherewasnoneedforSymetosearchhismemoryortheBibleinordertorememberthatthefirstdayofcreationmarkedthemerecreationoflightoutofdarkness。Thevestmentitselfwouldalonehavesuggestedthesymbol;andSymefeltalsohowperfectlythispatternofpurewhiteandblackexpressedthesoulofthepaleandaustereSecretary，withhisinhumanveracityandhiscoldfrenzy，whichmadehimsoeasilymakewarontheanarchists，andyetsoeasilypassforoneofthem。Symewasscarcelysurprisedtonoticethat，amidalltheeaseandhospitalityoftheirnewsurroundings，thisman’seyeswerestillstern。NosmellofaleororchardscouldmaketheSecretaryceasetoaskareasonablequestion。

IfSymehadbeenabletoseehimself，hewouldhaverealisedthathe，too，seemedtobeforthefirsttimehimselfandnooneelse。

ForiftheSecretarystoodforthatphilosopherwholovestheoriginalandformlesslight，Symewasatypeofthepoetwhoseeksalwaystomakethelightinspecialshapes，tosplititupintosunandstar。Thephilosophermaysometimeslovetheinfinite;thepoetalwayslovesthefinite。Forhimthegreatmomentisnotthecreationoflight，butthecreationofthesunandmoon。

AstheydescendedthebroadstairstogethertheyovertookRatcliffe，whowascladinspringgreenlikeahuntsman，andthepatternuponwhosegarmentwasagreentangleoftrees。Forhestoodforthatthirddayonwhichtheearthandgreenthingsweremade，andhissquare，sensibleface，withitsnotunfriendlycynicism，seemedappropriateenoughtoit。

TheywereledoutofanotherbroadandlowgatewayintoaverylargeoldEnglishgarden，fulloftorchesandbonfires，bythebrokenlightofwhichavastcarnivalofpeopleweredancinginmotleydress。SymeseemedtoseeeveryshapeinNatureimitatedinsomecrazycostume。Therewasamandressedasawindmillwithenormoussails，amandressedasanelephant，amandressedasaballoon;thetwolast，together，seemedtokeepthethreadoftheirfarcicaladventures。Symeevensaw，withaqueerthrill，onedancerdressedlikeanenormoushornbill，withabeaktwiceasbigashimself——thequeerbirdwhichhadfixeditselfonhisfancylikealivingquestionwhilehewasrushingdownthelongroadattheZoologicalGardens。Therewereathousandothersuchobjects，however。Therewasadancinglamp—post，adancingappletree，adancingship。Onewouldhavethoughtthattheuntamabletuneofsomemadmusicianhadsetallthecommonobjectsoffieldandstreetdancinganeternaljig。Andlongafterwards，whenSymewasmiddle—agedandatrest，hecouldneverseeoneofthoseparticularobjects——alamppost，oranappletree，orawindmill——

withoutthinkingthatitwasastrayedrevellerfromthatrevelofmasquerade。

Ononesideofthislawn，alivewithdancers，wasasortofgreenbank，liketheterraceinsuchold—fashionedgardens。

Alongthis，inakindofcrescent，stoodsevengreatchairs，thethronesofthesevendays。GogolandDr。Bullwerealreadyintheirseats;theProfessorwasjustmountingtohis。Gogol，orTuesday，hadhissimplicitywellsymbolisedbyadressdesigneduponthedivisionofthewaters，adressthatseparateduponhisforeheadandfelltohisfeet，greyandsilver，likeasheetofrain。TheProfessor，whosedaywasthatonwhichthebirdsandfishes——theruderformsoflife——werecreated，hadadressofdimpurple，overwhichsprawledgoggle—eyedfishesandoutrageoustropicalbirds，theunioninhimofunfathomablefancyandofdoubt。Dr。Bull，thelastdayofCreation，woreacoatcoveredwithheraldicanimalsinredandgold，andonhiscrestamanrampant。Helaybackinhischairwithabroadsmile，thepictureofanoptimistinhiselement。

Onebyonethewanderersascendedthebankandsatintheirstrangeseats。Aseachofthemsatdownaroarofenthusiasmrosefromthecarnival，suchasthatwithwhichcrowdsreceivekings。

Cupswereclashedandtorchesshaken，andfeatheredhatsflungintheair。Themenforwhomthesethroneswerereservedweremencrownedwithsomeextraordinarylaurels。Butthecentralchairwasempty。

SymewasonthelefthandofitandtheSecretaryontheright。

TheSecretarylookedacrosstheemptythroneatSyme，andsaid，compressinghislips——

"Wedonotknowyetthatheisnotdeadinafield。"

AlmostasSymeheardthewords，hesawontheseaofhumanfacesinfrontofhimafrightfulandbeautifulalteration，asifheavenhadopenedbehindhishead。ButSundayhadonlypassedsilentlyalongthefrontlikeashadow，andhadsatinthecentralseat。Hewasdrapedplainly，inapureandterriblewhite，andhishairwaslikeasilverflameonhisforehead。

Foralongtime——itseemedforhours——thathugemasqueradeofmankindswayedandstampedinfrontofthemtomarchingandexultantmusic。Everycoupledancingseemedaseparateromance;

itmightbeafairydancingwithapillar—box，orapeasantgirldancingwiththemoon;butineachcaseitwas，somehow，asabsurdasAliceinWonderland，yetasgraveandkindasalovestory。Atlast，however，thethickcrowdbegantothinitself。

Couplesstrolledawayintothegarden—walks，orbegantodrifttowardsthatendofthebuildingwherestoodsmoking，inhugepotslikefish—kettles，somehotandscentedmixturesofoldaleorwine。Aboveallthese，uponasortofblackframeworkontheroofofthehouse，roaredinitsironbasketagiganticbonfire，whichlitupthelandformiles。Itflungthehomelyeffectoffirelightoverthefaceofvastforestsofgreyorbrown，anditseemedtofillwithwarmtheventheemptinessofuppernight。

Yetthisalso，afteratime，wasallowedtogrowfainter;thedimgroupsgatheredmoreandmoreroundthegreatcauldrons，orpassed，laughingandclattering，intotheinnerpassagesofthatancienthouse。Soontherewereonlysometenloiterersinthegarden;soononlyfour。Finallythelaststraymerry—makerranintothehousewhoopingtohiscompanions。Thefirefaded，andtheslow，strongstarscameout。Andthesevenstrangemenwereleftalone，likesevenstonestatuesontheirchairsofstone。

Notoneofthemhadspokenaword。

Theyseemedinnohastetodoso，butheardinsilencethehumofinsectsandthedistantsongofonebird。ThenSundayspoke，butsodreamilythathemighthavebeencontinuingaconversationratherthanbeginningone。

"Wewilleatanddrinklater，"hesaid。"Letusremaintogetheralittle，wewhohavelovedeachothersosadly，andhavefoughtsolong。Iseemtorememberonlycenturiesofheroicwar，inwhichyouwerealwaysheroes——epiconepic，iliadoniliad，andyoualwaysbrothersinarms。Whetheritwasbutrecently（fortimeisnothing），oratthebeginningoftheworld，Isentyououttowar。Isatinthedarkness，wherethereisnotanycreatedthing，andtoyouIwasonlyavoicecommandingvalourandanunnaturalvirtue。Youheardthevoiceinthedark，andyouneverhearditagain。Thesuninheavendeniedit，theearthandskydeniedit，allhumanwisdomdeniedit。AndwhenImetyouinthedaylightI

denieditmyself。"

Symestirredsharplyinhisseat，butotherwisetherewassilence，andtheincomprehensiblewenton。

"Butyouweremen。Youdidnotforgetyoursecrethonour，thoughthewholecosmosturnedanengineoftorturetotearitoutofyou。Iknewhownearyouweretohell。Iknowhowyou，Thursday，crossedswordswithKingSatan，andhowyou，Wednesday，namedmeinthehourwithouthope。"

Therewascompletesilenceinthestarlitgarden，andthentheblack—browedSecretary，implacable，turnedinhischairtowardsSunday，andsaidinaharshvoice——

"Whoandwhatareyou？"

"IamtheSabbath，"saidtheotherwithoutmoving。"IamthepeaceofGod。"

TheSecretarystartedup，andstoodcrushinghiscostlyrobeinhishand。

"Iknowwhatyoumean，"hecried，"anditisexactlythatthatI

cannotforgiveyou。Iknowyouarecontentment，optimism，whatdotheycallthething，anultimatereconciliation。Well，Iamnotreconciled。Ifyouwerethemaninthedarkroom，whywereyoualsoSunday，anoffensetothesunlight？Ifyouwerefromthefirstourfatherandourfriend，whywereyoualsoourgreatestenemy？Wewept，wefledinterror;theironenteredintooursouls——andyouarethepeaceofGod！Oh，IcanforgiveGodHisanger，thoughitdestroyednations;butIcannotforgiveHimHispeace。"

Sundayanswerednotaword，butveryslowlyheturnedhisfaceofstoneuponSymeasifaskingaquestion。

"No，"saidSyme，"Idonotfeelfiercelikethat。Iamgratefultoyou，notonlyforwineandhospitalityhere，butformanyafinescamperandfreefight。ButIshouldliketoknow。Mysoulandheartareashappyandquiethereasthisoldgarden，butmyreasonisstillcryingout。Ishouldliketoknow。"

SundaylookedatRatcliffe，whoseclearvoicesaid——

"Itseemssosillythatyoushouldhavebeenonbothsidesandfoughtyourself。"

Bullsaid——

"lunderstandnothing，butIamhappy。Infact，Iamgoingtosleep。"

"Iamnothappy，"saidtheProfessorwithhisheadinhishands，"becauseIdonotunderstand。Youletmestrayalittletooneartohell。"

AndthenGogolsaid，withtheabsolutesimplicityofachild——

"IwishIknewwhyIwashurtsomuch。"

StillSundaysaidnothing，butonlysatwithhismightychinuponhishand，andgazedatthedistance。Thenatlasthesaid——

"Ihaveheardyourcomplaintsinorder。Andhere，Ithink，comesanothertocomplain，andwewillhearhimalso。"

Thefallingfireinthegreatcressetthrewalastlonggleam，likeabarofburninggold，acrossthedimgrass。Againstthisfierybandwasoutlinedinutterblacktheadvancinglegsofablack—cladfigure。Heseemedtohaveafineclosesuitwithknee—breechessuchasthatwhichwaswornbytheservantsofthehouse，onlythatitwasnotblue，butofthisabsolutesable。Hehad，liketheservants，akindofwordbyhisside。Itwasonlywhenhehadcomequiteclosetothecrescentofthesevenandflunguphisfacetolookatthem，thatSymesaw，withthunder—struckclearness，thatthefacewasthebroad，almostape—likefaceofhisoldfriendGregory，withitsrankredhairanditsinsultingsmile。

"Gregory！"gaspedSyme，half—risingfromhisseat。"Why，thisistherealanarchist！"

"Yes，"saidGregory，withagreatanddangerousrestraint，"Iamtherealanarchist。"

"’Nowtherewasaday，’"murmuredBull，whoseemedreallytohavefallenasleep，"’whenthesonsofGodcametopresentthemselvesbeforetheLord，andSatancamealsoamongthem。’"

"Youareright，"saidGregory，andgazedallround。"Iamadestroyer。IwoulddestroytheworldifIcould。"

AsenseofapathosfarundertheearthstirredupinSyme，andhespokebrokenlyandwithoutsequence。

"Oh，mostunhappyman，"hecried，"trytobehappy！Youhaveredhairlikeyoursister。"

"Myredhair，likeredflames，shallburnuptheworld，"saidGregory。"IthoughtIhatedeverythingmorethancommonmencanhateanything;butIfindthatIdonothateeverythingsomuchasIhateyou！"

"Ineverhatedyou，"saidSymeverysadly。

Thenoutofthisunintelligiblecreaturethelastthundersbroke。

"You！"hecried。"Youneverhatedbecauseyouneverlived。Iknowwhatyouareallofyou，fromfirsttolast——youarethepeopleinpower！Youarethepolice——thegreatfat，smilingmeninblueandbuttons！YouaretheLaw，andyouhaveneverbeenbroken。Butisthereafreesoulalivethatdoesnotlongtobreakyou，onlybecauseyouhaveneverbeenbroken？WeinrevolttalkallkindofnonsensedoubtlessaboutthiscrimeorthatcrimeoftheGovernment。Itisallfolly！TheonlycrimeoftheGovernmentisthatitgoverns。Theunpardonablesinofthesupremepoweristhatitissupreme。Idonotcurseyouforbeingcruel。Idonotcurseyou（thoughImight）forbeingkind。Icurseyouforbeingsafe！Yousitinyourchairsofstone，andhavenevercomedownfromthem。Youarethesevenangelsofheaven，andyouhavehadnotroubles。Oh，Icouldforgiveyoueverything，youthatruleallmankind，ifIcouldfeelforoncethatyouhadsufferedforonehourarealagonysuchasI——"

Symesprangtohisfeet，shakingfromheadtofoot。

"Iseeeverything，"hecried，"everythingthatthereis。Whydoeseachthingontheearthwaragainsteachotherthing？Whydoeseachsmallthingintheworldhavetofightagainsttheworlditself？Whydoesaflyhavetofightthewholeuniverse？Whydoesadandelionhavetofightthewholeuniverse？ForthesamereasonthatIhadtobealoneinthedreadfulCounciloftheDays。Sothateachthingthatobeyslawmayhavethegloryandisolationoftheanarchist。Sothateachmanfightingforordermaybeasbraveandgoodamanasthedynamiter。SothatthereallieofSatanmaybeflungbackinthefaceofthisblasphemer，sothatbytearsandtorturewemayearntherighttosaytothisman，’Youlie！’Noagoniescanbetoogreattobuytherighttosaytothisaccuser，’Wealsohavesuffered。’

"Itisnottruethatwehaveneverbeenbroken。Wehavebeenbrokenuponthewheel。Itisnottruethatwehaveneverdescendedfromthesethrones。Wehavedescendedintohell。Wewerecomplainingofunforgettablemiseriesevenattheverymomentwhenthismanenteredinsolentlytoaccuseusofhappiness。Irepeltheslander;

wehavenotbeenhappy。IcananswerforeveryoneofthegreatguardsofLawwhomhehasaccused。Atleast——"

HehadturnedhiseyessoastoseesuddenlythegreatfaceofSunday，whichworeastrangesmile。

"Haveyou，"hecriedinadreadfulvoice，"haveyoueversuffered？"

Ashegazed，thegreatfacegrewtoanawfulsize，grewlargerthanthecolossalmaskofMemnon，whichhadmadehimscreamasachild。

Itgrewlargerandlarger，fillingthewholesky;theneverythingwentblack。Onlyintheblacknessbeforeitentirelydestroyedhisbrainheseemedtohearadistantvoicesayingacommonplacetextthathehadheardsomewhere，"CanyedrinkofthecupthatIdrinkof？"

***

Whenmeninbooksawakefromavision，theycommonlyfindthemselvesinsomeplaceinwhichtheymighthavefallenasleep;

theyyawninachair，orliftthemselveswithbruisedlimbsfromafield。Syme’sexperiencewassomethingmuchmorepsychologicallystrangeiftherewasindeedanythingunreal，intheearthlysense，aboutthethingshehadgonethrough。ForwhilehecouldalwaysrememberafterwardsthathehadswoonedbeforethefaceofSunday，hecouldnotrememberhavingevercometoatall。Hecouldonlyrememberthatgraduallyandnaturallyheknewthathewasandhadbeenwalkingalongacountrylanewithaneasyandconversationalcompanion。Thatcompanionhadbeenapartofhisrecentdrama;itwasthered—hairedpoetGregory。Theywerewalkinglikeoldfriends，andwereinthemiddleofaconversationaboutsometriviality。ButSymecouldonlyfeelanunnaturalbuoyancyinhisbodyandacrystalsimplicityinhismindthatseemedtobesuperiortoeverythingthathesaidordid。Hefelthewasinpossessionofsomeimpossiblegoodnews，whichmadeeveryotherthingatriviality，butanadorabletriviality。

Dawnwasbreakingovereverythingincoloursatonceclearandtimid;asifNaturemadeafirstattemptatyellowandafirstattemptatrose。Abreezeblewsocleanandsweet，thatonecouldnotthinkthatitblewfromthesky;itblewratherthroughsomeholeinthesky。Symefeltasimplesurprisewhenhesawrisingallroundhimonbothsidesoftheroadthered，irregularbuildingsofSaffronPark。HehadnoideathathehadwalkedsonearLondon。Hewalkedbyinstinctalongonewhiteroad，onwhichearlybirdshoppedandsang，andfoundhimselfoutsideafencedgarden。TherehesawthesisterofGregory，thegirlwiththegold—redhair，cuttinglilacbeforebreakfast，withthegreatunconsciousgravityofagirl。