e luminous reasons for their camping just where
they were and going on with their administrative duties forthwith. He
knew of this place, because he had happened upon it when holiday-making
with Madame Leblanc twenty years and more ago. 'There is very simple
fare at present,' he explained, 'on account of the disturbed state of
the countries about us. But we have excellent fresh milk, good red wine,
beef, bread, salad, and lemons. . . . In a few days I hope to place
things in the hands of a more efficient caterer....'

The members of the new world government dined at three long tables on
trestles, and down the middle of these tables Leblanc, in spite of
the barrenness of his menu, had contrived to have a great multitude of
beautiful roses. There was similar accommodation for the secretaries and
attendants at a lower level down the mountain. The assembly dined as it
had debated, in the open air, and over the dark crags to the west the
glowing June sunset shone upon the banquet. There was no precedency now
among the ninety-three, and King Egbert found himself between a pleasant
little Japanese stranger in spectacles and his cousin of Central Europe,
and opposite a great Bengali leader and the President of the United
States of America. Beyond the Japanese was Holsten, the old chemist, and
Leblanc was a little way down the other side.

The king was still cheerfully talkative and abounded in ideas. He fell
presently into an amiable controversy with the American, who seemed to
feel a lack of impressiveness in the occasion.

It was ever the Transatlantic tendency, due, no doubt, to the necessity
of handling public questions in a bulky and striking manner, to
over-emphasise and over-accentuate, and the president was touched by
his national failing. He suggested now that there should be a new era,
starting from that day as the first day of the first year.

The king demurred.

'From this day forth, sir, man enters upon his heritage,' said the
American.

'Man,' said the king, 'is always entering upon his heritage. You
Americans have a peculiar weakness for anniversaries--if you will
forgive me saying so. Yes--I accuse you of a lust for dramatic effect.
Everything is happening always, but you want to say this or this is the
real instant in time and subordinate all the others to it.'

The American said something about an epoch-making day.

'But surely,' said the king, 'you don't want us to condemn all humanity
to a world-wid