world, he believed, lay in the evil will and in the madness of the
people. They themselves were to blame for being unhappy, and they
could be happy if they wished. This seemed so clear and simple that
Max was dumfounded in his amazement at human stupidity. Humanity
reminded him of a crowd huddled together in a spacious temple and
panic-stricken at the cry of "Fire!"

Instead of passing calmly through the wide doors and saving
themselves, the maddened people, with the cruelty of frenzied beasts,
cry and roar, crush one another and perish--not from the fire (for it
is only imaginary), but from their own madness. It is enough
sometimes when one sensible, firm word is uttered to this crowd--the
crowd calms down and imminent death is thus averted. Let, then, a
hundred calm, rational voices be raised to mankind, showing them
where to escape and where the danger lies--and heaven will be
established on earth, if not immediately, then at least within a very
brief time.

Max began to utter his word of wisdom. How he uttered it you will
learn later. The name of Max was mentioned in the newspapers,
shouted in the market places, blessed and cursed; whole books were
written on what Max N+1 had done, what he was doing, and what he
intended to do. He appeared here and there and everywhere. He was
seen standing at the head of the crowd, commanding it; he was seen in
chains and under the knife of the guillotine. In this respect Max
did not have any special peculiarities, either. A preacher of
humility and peace, a stern bearer of fire and sword, he was the same
Max--Max the believer. But while he was doing all this, time kept
passing on. His nerves were shattered; his wavy locks became thin
and his head began to look like that of Elijah the Prophet; here and