deliberate choice a rebel against the magnificence of his
position. He affected long pedestrian tours and a disposition to sleep
in the open air. He came now over the Pass of Sta Maria Maggiore and
by boat up the lake to Brissago; thence he walked up the mountain, a
pleasant path set with oaks and sweet chestnut. For provision on the
walk, for he did not want to hurry, he carried with him a pocketful
of bread and cheese. A certain small retinue that was necessary to his
comfort and dignity upon occasions of state he sent on by the cable car,
and with him walked his private secretary, Firmin, a man who had
thrown up the Professorship of World Politics in the London School of
Sociology, Economics, and Political Science, to take up these duties.
Firmin was a man of strong rather than rapid thought, he had anticipated
great influence in this new position, and after some years he was still
only beginning to apprehend how largely his function was to listen.
Originally he had been something of a thinker upon international
politics, an authority upon tariffs and strategy, and a valued
contributor to various of the higher organs of public opinion, but the
atomic bombs had taken him by surprise, and he had still to recover
completely from his pre-atomic opinions and the silencing effect of
those sustained explosives.

The king's freedom from the trammels of etiquette was very complete. In
theory--and he abounded in theory--his manners were purely democratic.
It was by sheer habit and inadvertency that he permitted Firmin, who had
discovered a rucksack in a small shop in the town below, to carry
both bottles of beer. The king had never, as a matter of fact, carried
anything for himself in his life, and he had never noted that he did not
do so.

'We will have nobody with us,' he said, 'at all. We will be perfectly
simple.'

So Firmin carried the beer.

As they walked up--it was the king made the pace rather than
Firmin--they talked of the conference before them, and Firmin, with a
certain want of assurance that would have surprised him in himself
in the days of his Professorship, sought to define the policy of his
companion. 'In its broader form, sir,' said Firmin; 'I admit a certain
plausibility in this project of Leblanc's, but I feel that although
it may be advisable to set up some sort of general control for
International affairs--a sort of Hague Court with extended powers--that
is no reason whatever for losing sight of th