swallowed up. Wayne spoke to the King, with a queer sort of coldness
and languor, as to the military operations. It was as he had said the
night before--that being deprived of his sense of an impracticable
rectitude, he was, in effect, being deprived of everything. He was out
of date, and at sea in a mere world of compromise and competition, of
Empire against Empire, of the tolerably right and the tolerably wrong.
When his eye fell on the King, however, who was marching very gravely
with a top hat and a halberd, it brightened slightly.

"Well, your Majesty," he said, "you at least ought to be proud to-day.
If your children are fighting each other, at least those who win are
your children. Other kings have distributed justice, you have
distributed life. Other kings have ruled a nation, you have created
nations. Others have made kingdoms, you have begotten them. Look at
your children, father!" and he stretched his hand out towards the
enemy.

Auberon did not raise his eyes.

"See how splendidly," cried Wayne, "the new cities come on--the new
cities from across the river. See where Battersea advances over
there--under the flag of the Lost Dog; and Putney--don't you see the
Man on the White Boar shining on their standard as the sun catches it?
It is the coming of a new age, your Majesty. Notting Hill is not a
common empire; it is a thing like Athens, the mother of a mode of
life, of a manner of living, which shall renew the youth of the
world--a thing like Nazareth. When I was young I remember, in the old
dreary days, wiseacres used to write books about how trains would get
faster, and all the world be one empire, and tram-cars go to the moon.
And even as a child I used to say to myself, 'Far more likely that we
shall go on the crusades again, or worship the gods of the city.' And
so it has been. And I am glad, though this is my last battle."

Even as he spoke there came a crash of steel from the left, and he
turned his head.

"Wilson!" he cried, with a kind of joy. "Red Wilson has charged our
left. No one can hold him in; he eats swords. He is as keen a soldier
as Turnbull, but less patient--less really great. Ha! and Barker is
moving. How Barker has improved; how handsome he looks! It is not all
having plumes; it is also having a soul in one's daily life. Ha!"

And another crash of steel on the right showed that Barker had closed
with Notting Hill on the other side.

"Turnbull is there!" cried Wayne. "See him hurl