the men, Not a single trace of
womanly beauty, of healthful freshness upon them; their hair is
disordered and sprinkled with the dust of the highways, their tawny
bodies scarcely covered with unsightly rags, their gloomy eyes seem
fading into their sockets, only half open as if gluing together in very
weariness: but they will soon be quickened, for the full cup flies from
lip to lip, they quaff long draughts: Hurrah! hurrah! Long live the cup
of drunkenness and joy!

* * * * *

Hark! a noise and rustling among the masses! Is it joy, or is it grief?
Who can read the meaning of a thing so monstrously multiform!

A man arrives, mounts a table, harangues and sways the multitude. His
voice drags and grates upon the ear, but hacks itself into sharp, strong
words, clearly heard and easily understood; his gestures are slow and
light, accompanying his words as music, song. His brow is high and
strong, his head is entirely bald; thought has uprooted its last hair.
His skin is dull and tawny, the blood never tinges its dingy pallor, no
emotion ever paints its secrets there, yellow wrinkles form and cross
between the bones and muscles of his face, and a dark beard, like a
black wreath, encircles it from temple to temple. He fastens a steady
gaze upon his hearers, no doubt or hesitation ever clouds his clear,
cold eye. When he raises his arm and stretches it out toward the people,
they bow before him, as if to receive, prostrate, the blessing of a
_great intellect_, not that of a _great heart_! Down, down with the
great hearts! Away, away with old prejudices! Hurrah! hurrah! for the
words of consolation! Hurrah for the license to murder!

* * * * *

This man is the idol of the people, their passion, the ruler of their
souls, the stimulator of their enthusiasm. He promises them bread and
money, and their cries rise like the rushing of a storm, widening and
deepening in every direction: 'Long live Pancratius! Hurrah! Bread and
money! Bread for us, our wives, our children! Hurrah! hurrah!'

* * * * *

At the feet of the speaker, leaning against the table on which he
stands, rests his friend, companion, and disciple. His eye is dark and
oriental, shadowed by long and gloomy lashes, his arms hang down, his
limbs bend under him, his body is badly formed and distorted, his mouth
is sensual and voluptuous, his expression is sharp and maliciou