no more of his inventions. They are too diabolical! They imperil my
cause!

SAGE (_pointing to the crystal_). Look again, Sire.

POTENTATE (_gazing into the crystal, and in a low and agonized
voice_). Time with his scythe raised menacingly against me.
(_Abruptly_) This is a trickery, Sirrah! Have a care! But I will not
be tricked. Are my troops not brave? Are they not invincible? Can they
not win by their proven valour? Who can stand against them, for the
strength of the Lord is in their right hands?

(_Enter GENERAL hastily_)

GENERAL. Sire.... (_He starts, and stops short_).

POTENTATE (_testily_). Go on, go on. What is it?

GENERAL. Sire, the English counterattack has for the moment succeeded.
Infuriated by their defeat they fought so that no man could resist
them. They have regained the trenches they had lost, but we hope to
attack again to-morrow, when--

POTENTATE. Enough! Leave me!

(_The_ GENERAL _withdraws, and the_ POTENTATE _leans forward
with his head on his hands._)

SAGE (_commiseratingly_). Apparently other troops are brave besides
your own, Sire!