reading how some famous oration wrought upon its audience we turn
to it and wonder that such tempests of emotion could have been produced
by such simple, perhaps almost commonplace words. The key to the
mystery is usually a magic quality in the tone of the orator, evoking
before its hypnotized hearers a series of vivid pictures, just as the
notes of a violin, with no aid from words or even from musical form
seem to materialize into visions.

This uncommon yet by no means rare power was in Victor Dorn's voice,
and explained his extraordinary influence over people of all kinds and
classes; it wove a spell that enmeshed even those who disliked him for
his detestable views. Davy Hull, listening to Victor's simple recital
of his prospective career, was so wrought upon that he sat staring
before him in a kind of terror.

"Davy," said Victor gently, "you're at the parting of the ways. The
time for honest halfway reformers--for political amateurs has passed.
'Under which king, Bezonian? Speak or die!'--that's the situation
today."

And Hull knew that it was so. "What do you propose, Dorn?" he said.
"I want to do what's right--what's best for the people."

"Don't worry about the people, Hull," said Victor.

"Upper classes come and pass, but the people remain--bigger and
stronger and more aggressive with every century. And they dictate
language and art, and politics and religion--what we shall all eat and
wear and think and do. Only what they approve, only that yoke even
which they themselves accept, has any chance of enduring. Don't worry
about the people, Davy. Worry about yourself."

"I admit," said Hull, "that I don't like a lot of things about the--the
forces I find I've got to use in order to carry through my plans. I
admit that even the sincere young fellows I've grouped together to head
this movement are narrow--supercilious--self-satisfied--that they
irritate me and are not trustworthy. But I feel that, if I once get
the office, I'll be strong enough to put my plans through." Nervously,
"I'm giving you my full confidence--as I've given it to no one else."

"You've told me nothing I didn't know already," said Victor.

"I've got to choose between this reform party and your party,"
continued Hull. "That is, I've got no choice. For, candidly, I've no
confidence in the working class. It's too ignorant to do the ruling.
It's too credulous to build on--for its credulity makes it fickle. And
I believe in