SAVE THE EMPIRE."

Courtier stopped to look at them with peculiar indignation. Not only did
this poster tramp in again on his cherished convictions about Peace, but
he saw in it something more than met the unphilosophic eye. It
symbolized for him all that was catch-penny in the national life-an
epitaph on the grave of generosity, unutterably sad. Yet from a Party
point of view what could be more justifiable? Was it not desperately
important that every blue nerve should be strained that day to turn
yellow nerves, if not blue, at all events green, before night fell? Was
it not perfectly true that the Empire could only be saved by voting blue?
Could they help a blue paper printing the words, 'New complications,'
which he had read that morning? No more than the yellows could help a
yellow journal printing the words 'Lord Miltoun's Evening Adventure.'
Their only business was to win, ever fighting fair. The yellows had not
fought fair, they never did, 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 sincerity--the
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"I'm having it withdrawn."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 trick--congratulations--you'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 ci