man? To what end had he awakened, what
was there for him to do? Humanity was spread below him like a map. He
thought of the millions and millions of humanity following each other
unceasingly for ever out of the darkness of non-existence into the
darkness of death. To what end? Aim there must be, but it transcended
his power of thought. He saw for the first time clearly his own infinite
littleness, saw stark and terrible the tragic contrast of human strength
and the craving of the human heart. For that little while he knew
himself for the petty accident he was, and knew therewith the greatness
of his desire. And suddenly his littleness was intolerable, his
aspiration was intolerable, and there came to him an irresistible
impulse to pray. And he prayed. He prayed vague, incoherent,
contradictory things, his soul strained up through time and space and
all the fleeting multitudinous confusion of being, towards something--he
scarcely knew what--towards something that could comprehend his striving
and endure.

A man and a woman were far below on a roof space to the southward
enjoying the freshness of the morning air. The man had brought out a
perspective glass to spy upon the Council House and he was showing her
how to use it. Presently their curiosity was satisfied, they could see
no traces of bloodshed from their position, and after a survey of the
empty sky she came round to the crow's nest. And there she saw two
little black figures, so small it was hard to believe they were men,
one who watched and one who gesticulated with hands outstretched to the
silent emptiness of Heaven.

She handed the glass to the man. He looked and exclaimed:

"I believe it is the Master. Yes. I am sure. It is the Master!"

He lowered the glass and looked at her. "Waving his hands about almost
as if he was praying. I wonder what he is up to. Worshipping the sun?
There weren't Parses in this country in his time, were there?"

He looked again. "He's stopped it now. It was a chance attitude, I
suppose." He put down the glass and became meditative. "He won't have
anything to do but enjoy himself--just enjoy himself. Ostrog will boss
the show of course. Ostrog will have to, because of keeping all these
Labourer fools in bounds. Them and their song! And got it all by
sleeping, dear eyes--just sleeping. It's a wonderful world."

CHAPTER XV. PROMINENT PEOPLE

The state apartments of the Wind Vane Keeper would have seemed
astonishingly intri