the middle, and one indicated by a lifted hand that here
should be built a monument to the power of capitalism over the earth.
All gave signs of delight. Sentimental music was heard, and the gay
company fell to waltzing away the hours. Meanwhile, from below on the
road level, there streamed out of the darkness on either side of the
building and up the half-lit steps, their fetters ringing in harmony
with the music, the enslaved and toiling masses coming in response to
command to build the monument for their masters. It is impossible to
describe the exquisite beauty of the slow movement of those dark
figures aslant the broad flight of steps; individual expressions were
of course indistinguishable, and yet the movement and attitude of the
groups conveyed pathos and patient endurance as well as any individual
speech or gesture in the ordinary theatre. Some groups carried hammer
and anvil, and others staggered under enormous blocks of stone. Love
for the ballet has perhaps made the Russians understand the art of
moving groups of actors in unison. As I watched these processions
climbing the steps in apparently careless and spontaneous fashion, and
yet producing so graceful a result, I remembered the mad leap of the
archers down the stage in _Prince Igor_, which is also apparently
careless and spontaneous and full of wild and irregular beauty, yet
never varies a hair-breadth from one performance to the next.

For a time the workers toiled in the shadow in their earthly world,
and dancing continued in the lighted paradise of the rulers above,
until presently, in sign that the monument was complete, a large
yellow disc was hoisted amid acclamation above the highest platform
between the columns. But at the same moment a banner was uplifted
amongst the people, and a small figure was seen gesticulating. Angry
fists were shaken and the banner and speaker disappeared, only to
reappear almost immediately in another part of the dense crowd. Again
hostility, until finally among the French workers away up on the
right, the first Communist manifesto found favour. Rallying around
their banner the _communards_ ran shouting down the steps, gathering
supporters as they came. Above, all is confusion, kings and queens
scuttling in unroyal fashion with flying velvet robes to safe citadels
right and left, while the army prepares to defend the main citadel of
capitalism with its golden disc of power. The _communards_ scale the
steps to the fortre