And now I have finished the story of a man who saw and followed
his Ideal, who loved and prized it, and clave to it above and through
all lesser mundane things. Of a man whom the senses could not allure,
nor the craving for knowledge, nor the lust of power, nor the blast
of spiritual vanity, shake from his perfect rectitude and service.
Of a man who, seeing the good and the beautiful way, turned not
aside from it, nor yielded a step to the enemy; in whose soul the
voice of the inward Divinity no rebuke, nor derision, nor neglect
could quench; who chose his part and abode by it, seeking no
reconciliation with the world, not weakly repining because his
faith in the justice of God distanced the sympathies of common men."
Every poet has it in him to imagine, to comprehend, and desire
such a life as this; he who lives it canonises his genius, and,
to the topmost manhood of the Seer, adds the Divinity of Heroism.





IV. A Turn of Luck




"Messieurs, faites votre jeu! . . . Le jeu est fait! . . . Rien
ne va plus! . . . Rouge gagne et la couleur! . . . Rouge gagne, la
couleur perd! . . . Rouge perd et la couleur! . . . "

Such were the monotonous continually recurring sentences, always
spoken in the same impassive tones, to which I listened as I stood