"Idon’tthinkofSundayonprinciple，"saidGogolsimply，"anymorethanIstareatthesunatnoonday。"
"Well，thatisapointofview，"saidSymethoughtfully。"Whatdoyousay，Professor？"
TheProfessorwaswalkingwithbentheadandtrailingstick，andhedidnotansweratall。
"Wakeup，Professor！"saidSymegenially。"TelluswhatyouthinkofSunday。"
TheProfessorspokeatlastveryslowly。
"Ithinksomething，"hesaid，"thatIcannotsayclearly。Or，rather，IthinksomethingthatIcannoteventhinkclearly。Butitissomethinglikethis。Myearlylife，asyouknow，wasabittoolargeandloose。
Well，whenIsawSunday’sfaceIthoughtitwastoolarge——
everybodydoes，butIalsothoughtitwastooloose。Thefacewassobig，thatonecouldn’tfocusitormakeitafaceatall。
Theeyewassofarawayfromthenose，thatitwasn’taneye。
Themouthwassomuchbyitself，thatonehadtothinkofitbyitself。Thewholethingistoohardtoexplain。"
Hepausedforalittle，stilltrailinghisstick，andthenwenton——
"Butputitthisway。Walkinguparoadatnight，Ihaveseenalampandalightedwindowandacloudmaketogetheramostcompleteandunmistakableface。IfanyoneinheavenhasthatfaceIshallknowhimagain。YetwhenIwalkedalittlefartherIfoundthattherewasnoface，thatthewindowwastenyardsaway，thelamptenhundredyards，thecloudbeyondtheworld。Well，Sunday’sfaceescapedme;itranawaytorightandleft，assuchchancepicturesrunaway。Andsohisfacehasmademe，somehow，doubtwhetherthereareanyfaces。Idon’tknowwhetheryourface，Bull，isafaceoracombinationinperspective。Perhapsoneblackdiscofyourbeastlyglassesisquitecloseandanotherfiftymilesaway。Oh，thedoubtsofamaterialistarenotworthadump。Sundayhastaughtmethelastandtheworstdoubts，thedoubtsofaspiritualist。IamaBuddhist，Isuppose;andBuddhismisnotacreed，itisadoubt。MypoordearBull，Idonotbelievethatyoureallyhaveaface。I
havenotfaithenoughtobelieveinmatter。"
Syme’seyeswerestillfixedupontheerrantorb，which，reddenedintheeveninglight，lookedlikesomerosierandmoreinnocentworld。
"Haveyounoticedanoddthing，"hesaid，"aboutallyourdescriptions？EachmanofyoufindsSundayquitedifferent，yeteachmanofyoucanonlyfindonethingtocomparehimto——theuniverseitself。Bullfindshimliketheearthinspring，Gogollikethesunatnoonday。TheSecretaryisremindedoftheshapelessprotoplasm，andtheInspectorofthecarelessnessofvirginforests。TheProfessorsaysheislikeachanginglandscape。Thisisqueer，butitisqueererstillthatIalsohavehadmyoddnotionaboutthePresident，andIalsofindthatIthinkofSundayasIthinkofthewholeworld。"
"Getonalittlefaster，Syme，"saidBull;"nevermindtheballoon。"
"WhenIfirstsawSunday，"saidSymeslowly，"Ionlysawhisback;
andwhenIsawhisback，Iknewhewastheworstmanintheworld。
Hisneckandshoulderswerebrutal，likethoseofsomeapishgod。
Hisheadhadastoopthatwashardlyhuman，likethestoopofanox。Infact，Ihadatoncetherevoltingfancythatthiswasnotamanatall，butabeastdressedupinmen’sclothes。"
"Geton，"saidDr。Bull。
"Andthenthequeerthinghappened。Ihadseenhisbackfromthestreet，ashesatinthebalcony。ThenIenteredthehotel，andcomingroundtheothersideofhim，sawhisfaceinthesunlight。
Hisfacefrightenedme，asitdideveryone;butnotbecauseitwasbrutal，notbecauseitwasevil。Onthecontrary，itfrightenedmebecauseitwassobeautiful，becauseitwassogood。"
"Syme，"exclaimedtheSecretary，"areyouill？"
"Itwaslikethefaceofsomeancientarchangel，judgingjustlyafterheroicwars。Therewaslaughterintheeyes，andinthemouthhonourandsorrow。Therewasthesamewhitehair，thesamegreat，grey—cladshouldersthatIhadseenfrombehind。ButwhenIsawhimfrombehindIwascertainhewasananimal，andwhenIsawhiminfrontIknewhewasagod。"
"Pan，"saidtheProfessordreamily，"wasagodandananimal。"
"Then，andagainandalways，"wentonSymelikeamantalkingtohimself，"thathasbeenformethemysteryofSunday，anditisalsothemysteryoftheworld。WhenIseethehorribleback，Iamsurethenoblefaceisbutamask。WhenIseethefacebutforaninstant，Iknowthebackisonlyajest。Badissobad，thatwecannotbutthinkgoodanaccident;goodissogood，thatwefeelcertainthatevilcouldbeexplained。ButthewholecametoakindofcrestyesterdaywhenIracedSundayforthecab，andwasjustbehindhimalltheway。"
"Hadyoutimeforthinkingthen？"askedRatcliffe。
"Time，"repliedSyme，"foroneoutrageousthought。Iwassuddenlypossessedwiththeideathattheblind，blankbackofhisheadreallywashisface——anawful，eyelessfacestaringatme！AndI
fanciedthatthefigurerunninginfrontofmewasreallyafigurerunningbackwards，anddancingasheran。"
"Horrible！"saidDr。Bull，andshuddered。
"Horribleisnottheword，"saidSyme。"Itwasexactlytheworstinstantofmylife。Andyettenminutesafterwards，whenheputhisheadoutofthecabandmadeagrimacelikeagargoyle，Iknewthathewasonlylikeafatherplayinghide—and—seekwithhischildren。"
"Itisalonggame，"saidtheSecretary，andfrownedathisbrokenboots。
"Listentome，"criedSymewithextraordinaryemphasis。"ShallI
tellyouthesecretofthewholeworld？Itisthatwehaveonlyknownthebackoftheworld。Weseeeverythingfrombehind，anditlooksbrutal。Thatisnotatree，butthebackofatree。Thatisnotacloud，butthebackofacloud。Cannotyouseethateverythingisstoopingandhidingaface？Ifwecouldonlygetroundinfront——"
"Look！"criedoutBullclamorously，"theballooniscomingdown！"
TherewasnoneedtocryouttoSyme，whohadnevertakenhiseyesoffit。Hesawthegreatluminousglobesuddenlystaggerinthesky，rightitself，andthensinkslowlybehindthetreeslikeasettingsun。
ThemancalledGogol，whohadhardlyspokenthroughalltheirwearytravels，suddenlythrewuphishandslikealostspirit。
"Heisdead！"hecried。"AndnowIknowhewasmyfriend——myfriendinthedark！"
"Dead！"snortedtheSecretary。"Youwillnotfindhimdeadeasily。
Ifhehasbeentippedoutofthecar，weshallfindhimrollingasacoltrollsinafield，kickinghislegsforfun。"
"Clashinghishoofs，"saidtheProfessor。"Thecoltsdo，andsodidPan。"
"Panagain！"saidDr。Bullirritably。"YouseemtothinkPaniseverything。"
"Soheis，"saidtheProfessor，"inGreek。Hemeanseverything。"
"Don’tforget，"saidtheSecretary，lookingdown，"thathealsomeansPanic。"
Symehadstoodwithouthearinganyoftheexclamations。
"Itfelloverthere，"hesaidshortly。"Letusfollowit！"
Thenheaddedwithanindescribablegesture——
"Oh，ifhehascheatedusallbygettingkilled！Itwouldbelikeoneofhislarks。"
Hestrodeofftowardsthedistanttreeswithanewenergy，hisragsandribbonsflutteringinthewind。Theothersfollowedhiminamorefootsoreanddubiousmanner。Andalmostatthesamemomentallsixmenrealisedthattheywerenotaloneinthelittlefield。
Acrossthesquareofturfatallmanwasadvancingtowardsthem，leaningonastrangelongstafflikeasceptre。Hewascladinafinebutold—fashionedsuitwithknee—breeches;itscolourwasthatshadebetweenblue，violetandgreywhichcanbeseenincertainshadowsofthewoodland。Hishairwaswhitishgrey，andatthefirstglance，takenalongwithhisknee—breeches，lookedasifitwaspowdered。Hisadvancewasveryquiet;butforthesilverfrostuponhishead，hemighthavebeenonetotheshadowsofthewood。
"Gentlemen，"hesaid，"mymasterhasacarriagewaitingforyouintheroadjustby。"
"Whoisyourmaster？"askedSyme，standingquitestill。
"Iwastoldyouknewhisname，"saidthemanrespectfully。
Therewasasilence，andthentheSecretarysaid——
"Whereisthiscarriage？"
"Ithasbeenwaitingonlyafewmoments，"saidthestranger。"Mymasterhasonlyjustcomehome。"
Symelookedleftandrightuponthepatchofgreenfieldinwhichhefoundhimself。Thehedgeswereordinaryhedges，thetreesseemedordinarytrees;yethefeltlikeamanentrappedinfairyland。
Helookedthemysteriousambassadorupanddown，buthecoulddiscovernothingexceptthattheman’scoatwastheexactcolourofthepurpleshadows，andthattheman’sfacewastheexactcolouroftheredandbrownandgoldensky。
"Showustheplace，"Symesaidbriefly，andwithoutawordthemaninthevioletcoatturnedhisbackandwalkedtowardsagapinthehedge，whichletinsuddenlythelightofawhiteroad。
Asthesixwanderersbrokeoutuponthisthoroughfare，theysawthewhiteroadblockedbywhatlookedlikealongrowofcarriages，sucharowofcarriagesasmightclosetheapproachtosomehouseinParkLane。Alongthesideofthesecarriagesstoodarankofsplendidservants，alldressedinthegrey—blueuniform，andallhavingacertainqualityofstatelinessandfreedomwhichwouldnotcommonlybelongtotheservantsofagentleman，butrathertotheofficialsandambassadorsofagreatking。Therewerenolessthansixcarriageswaiting，oneforeachofthetatteredandmiserableband。Alltheattendants（asifincourt—dress）woreswords，andaseachmancrawledintohiscarriagetheydrewthem，andsalutedwithasuddenblazeofsteel。
"Whatcanitallmean？"askedBullofSymeastheyseparated。"IsthisanotherjokeofSunday’s？"
"Idon’tknow，"saidSymeashesankwearilybackinthecushionsofhiscarriage;"butifitis，it’soneofthejokesyoutalkabout。It’sagood—naturedone。"
Thesixadventurershadpassedthroughmanyadventures，butnotonehadcarriedthemsoutterlyofftheirfeetasthislastadventureofcomfort。Theyhadallbecomeinuredtothingsgoingroughly;butthingssuddenlygoingsmoothlyswampedthem。Theycouldnotevenfeeblyimaginewhatthecarriageswere;itwasenoughforthemtoknowthattheywerecarriages，andcarriageswithcushions。Theycouldnotconceivewhotheoldmanwaswhohadledthem;butitwasquiteenoughthathehadcertainlyledthemtothecarriages。
Symedrovethroughadriftingdarknessoftreesinutterabandonment。Itwastypicalofhimthatwhilehehadcarriedhisbeardedchinforwardfiercelysolongasanythingcouldbedone，whenthewholebusinesswastakenoutofhishandshefellbackonthecushionsinafrankcollapse。
Verygraduallyandveryvaguelyherealisedintowhatrichroadsthecarriagewascarryinghim。Hesawthattheypassedthestonegatesofwhatmighthavebeenapark，thattheybegangraduallytoclimbahillwhich，whilewoodedonbothsides，wassomewhatmoreorderlythanaforest。Thentherebegantogrowuponhim，asuponamanslowlywakingfromahealthysleep，apleasureineverything。
Hefeltthatthehedgeswerewhathedgesshouldbe，livingwalls;
thatahedgeislikeahumanarmy，disciplined，butallthemorealive。Hesawhighelmsbehindthehedges，andvaguelythoughthowhappyboyswouldbeclimbingthere。Thenhiscarriagetookaturnofthepath，andhesawsuddenlyandquietly，likealong，low，sunsetcloud，along，lowhouse，mellowinthemildlightofsunset。Allthesixfriendscomparednotesafterwardsandquarrelled;buttheyallagreedthatinsomeunaccountablewaytheplaceremindedthemoftheirboyhood。Itwaseitherthiselm—toporthatcrookedpath，itwaseitherthisscrapoforchardorthatshapeofawindow;buteachmanofthemdeclaredthathecouldrememberthisplacebeforehecouldrememberhismother。
Whenthecarriageseventuallyrolleduptoalarge，low，cavernousgateway，anothermaninthesameuniform，butwearingasilverstaronthegreybreastofhiscoat，cameouttomeetthem。ThisimpressivepersonsaidtothebewilderedSyme——
"Refreshmentsareprovidedforyouinyourroom。"
Syme，undertheinfluenceofthesamemesmericsleepofamazement，wentupthelargeoakenstairsaftertherespectfulattendant。Heenteredasplendidsuiteofapartmentsthatseemedtobedesignedspeciallyforhim。Hewalkeduptoalongmirrorwiththeordinaryinstinctofhisclass，topullhistiestraightortosmoothhishair;andtherehesawthefrightfulfigurethathewas——bloodrunningdownhisfacefromwheretheboughhadstruckhim，hishairstandingoutlikeyellowragsofrankgrass，hisclothestornintolong，waveringtatters。Atoncethewholeenigmasprangup，simplyasthequestionofhowhehadgotthere，andhowhewastogetoutagain。Exactlyatthesamemomentamaninblue，whohadbeenappointedashisvalet，saidverysolemnly——
"Ihaveputoutyourclothes，sir。"
"Clothes！"saidSymesardonically。"Ihavenoclothesexceptthese，"andheliftedtwolongstripsofhisfrock—coatinfascinatingfestoons，andmadeamovementasiftotwirllikeaballetgirl。
"Mymasterasksmetosay，"saidtheattendant，thatthereisafancydressballtonight，andthathedesiresyoutoputonthecostumethatIhavelaidout。Meanwhile，sir，thereisabottleofBurgundyandsomecoldpheasant，whichhehopesyouwillnotrefuse，asitissomehoursbeforesupper。"
"Coldpheasantisagoodthing，"saidSymereflectively，"andBurgundyisaspankinggoodthing。ButreallyIdonotwanteitherofthemsomuchasIwanttoknowwhatthedevilallthismeans，andwhatsortofcostumeyouhavegotlaidoutforme。Whereisit？"
Theservantliftedoffakindofottomanalongpeacock—bluedrapery，ratherofthenatureofadomino，onthefrontofwhichwasemblazonedalargegoldensun，andwhichwassplashedhereandtherewithflamingstarsandcrescents。
"You’retobedressedasThursday，sir，"saidthevaletsomewhataffably。
"DressedasThursday！"saidSymeinmeditation。"Itdoesn’tsoundawarmcostume。"
"Oh，yes，sir，"saidtheothereagerly，"theThursdaycostumeisquitewarm，sir。Itfastensuptothechin。"
"Well，Idon’tunderstandanything，"saidSyme，sighing。"Ihavebeenusedsolongtouncomfortableadventuresthatcomfortableadventuresknockmeout。Still，ImaybeallowedtoaskwhyI
shouldbeparticularlylikeThursdayinagreenfrockspottedalloverwiththesunandmoon。Thoseorbs，Ithink，shineonotherdays。IoncesawthemoononTuesday，Iremember。"
"Begpardon，sir，"saidthevalet，"Biblealsoprovidedforyou，"
andwitharespectfulandrigidfingerhepointedoutapassageinthefirstchapterofGenesis。Symereaditwondering。Itwasthatinwhichthefourthdayoftheweekisassociatedwiththecreationofthesunandmoon。Here，however，theyreckonedfromaChristianSunday。
"Thisisgettingwilderandwilder，"saidSyme，ashesatdowninachair。"WhoarethesepeoplewhoprovidecoldpheasantandBurgundy，andgreenclothesandBibles？Dotheyprovideeverything？"
"Yes，sir，everything，"saidtheattendantgravely。"ShallIhelpyouonwithyourcostume？"
"Oh，hitchtheballythingon！"saidSymeimpatiently。
Butthoughheaffectedtodespisethemummery，hefeltacuriousfreedomandnaturalnessinhismovementsastheblueandgoldgarmentfellabouthim;andwhenhefoundthathehadtowearasword，itstirredaboyishdream。Ashepassedoutoftheroomheflungthefoldsacrosshisshoulderwithagesture，hisswordstoodoutatanangle，andhehadalltheswaggerofatroubadour。
Forthesedisguisesdidnotdisguise，butreveal。
CHAPTERXV
THEACCUSER
ASSymestrodealongthecorridorhesawtheSecretarystandingatthetopofagreatflightofstairs。Themanhadneverlookedsonoble。Hewasdrapedinalongrobeofstarlessblack，downthecentreofwhichfellabandorbroadstripeofpurewhite，likeasingleshaftoflight。Thewholelookedlikesomeverysevereecclesiasticalvestment。TherewasnoneedforSymetosearchhismemoryortheBibleinordertorememberthatthefirstdayofcreationmarkedthemerecreationoflightoutofdarkness。Thevestmentitselfwouldalonehavesuggestedthesymbol;andSymefeltalsohowperfectlythispatternofpurewhiteandblackexpressedthesoulofthepaleandaustereSecretary，withhisinhumanveracityandhiscoldfrenzy，whichmadehimsoeasilymakewarontheanarchists，andyetsoeasilypassforoneofthem。Symewasscarcelysurprisedtonoticethat，amidalltheeaseandhospitalityoftheirnewsurroundings，thisman’seyeswerestillstern。NosmellofaleororchardscouldmaketheSecretaryceasetoaskareasonablequestion。
IfSymehadbeenabletoseehimself，hewouldhaverealisedthathe，too，seemedtobeforthefirsttimehimselfandnooneelse。
ForiftheSecretarystoodforthatphilosopherwholovestheoriginalandformlesslight，Symewasatypeofthepoetwhoseeksalwaystomakethelightinspecialshapes，tosplititupintosunandstar。Thephilosophermaysometimeslovetheinfinite;thepoetalwayslovesthefinite。Forhimthegreatmomentisnotthecreationoflight，butthecreationofthesunandmoon。
AstheydescendedthebroadstairstogethertheyovertookRatcliffe，whowascladinspringgreenlikeahuntsman，andthepatternuponwhosegarmentwasagreentangleoftrees。Forhestoodforthatthirddayonwhichtheearthandgreenthingsweremade，andhissquare，sensibleface，withitsnotunfriendlycynicism，seemedappropriateenoughtoit。
TheywereledoutofanotherbroadandlowgatewayintoaverylargeoldEnglishgarden，fulloftorchesandbonfires，bythebrokenlightofwhichavastcarnivalofpeopleweredancinginmotleydress。SymeseemedtoseeeveryshapeinNatureimitatedinsomecrazycostume。Therewasamandressedasawindmillwithenormoussails，amandressedasanelephant，amandressedasaballoon;thetwolast，together，seemedtokeepthethreadoftheirfarcicaladventures。Symeevensaw，withaqueerthrill，onedancerdressedlikeanenormoushornbill，withabeaktwiceasbigashimself——thequeerbirdwhichhadfixeditselfonhisfancylikealivingquestionwhilehewasrushingdownthelongroadattheZoologicalGardens。Therewereathousandothersuchobjects，however。Therewasadancinglamp—post，adancingappletree，adancingship。Onewouldhavethoughtthattheuntamabletuneofsomemadmusicianhadsetallthecommonobjectsoffieldandstreetdancinganeternaljig。Andlongafterwards，whenSymewasmiddle—agedandatrest，hecouldneverseeoneofthoseparticularobjects——alamppost，oranappletree，orawindmill——
withoutthinkingthatitwasastrayedrevellerfromthatrevelofmasquerade。
Ononesideofthislawn，alivewithdancers，wasasortofgreenbank，liketheterraceinsuchold—fashionedgardens。
Alongthis，inakindofcrescent，stoodsevengreatchairs，thethronesofthesevendays。GogolandDr。Bullwerealreadyintheirseats;theProfessorwasjustmountingtohis。Gogol，orTuesday，hadhissimplicitywellsymbolisedbyadressdesigneduponthedivisionofthewaters，adressthatseparateduponhisforeheadandfelltohisfeet，greyandsilver，likeasheetofrain。TheProfessor，whosedaywasthatonwhichthebirdsandfishes——theruderformsoflife——werecreated，hadadressofdimpurple，overwhichsprawledgoggle—eyedfishesandoutrageoustropicalbirds，theunioninhimofunfathomablefancyandofdoubt。Dr。Bull，thelastdayofCreation，woreacoatcoveredwithheraldicanimalsinredandgold，andonhiscrestamanrampant。Helaybackinhischairwithabroadsmile，thepictureofanoptimistinhiselement。
Onebyonethewanderersascendedthebankandsatintheirstrangeseats。Aseachofthemsatdownaroarofenthusiasmrosefromthecarnival，suchasthatwithwhichcrowdsreceivekings。
Cupswereclashedandtorchesshaken，andfeatheredhatsflungintheair。Themenforwhomthesethroneswerereservedweremencrownedwithsomeextraordinarylaurels。Butthecentralchairwasempty。
SymewasonthelefthandofitandtheSecretaryontheright。
TheSecretarylookedacrosstheemptythroneatSyme，andsaid，compressinghislips——
"Wedonotknowyetthatheisnotdeadinafield。"
AlmostasSymeheardthewords，hesawontheseaofhumanfacesinfrontofhimafrightfulandbeautifulalteration，asifheavenhadopenedbehindhishead。ButSundayhadonlypassedsilentlyalongthefrontlikeashadow，andhadsatinthecentralseat。Hewasdrapedplainly，inapureandterriblewhite，andhishairwaslikeasilverflameonhisforehead。
Foralongtime——itseemedforhours——thathugemasqueradeofmankindswayedandstampedinfrontofthemtomarchingandexultantmusic。Everycoupledancingseemedaseparateromance;
itmightbeafairydancingwithapillar—box，orapeasantgirldancingwiththemoon;butineachcaseitwas，somehow，asabsurdasAliceinWonderland，yetasgraveandkindasalovestory。Atlast，however，thethickcrowdbegantothinitself。
Couplesstrolledawayintothegarden—walks，orbegantodrifttowardsthatendofthebuildingwherestoodsmoking，inhugepotslikefish—kettles，somehotandscentedmixturesofoldaleorwine。Aboveallthese，uponasortofblackframeworkontheroofofthehouse，roaredinitsironbasketagiganticbonfire，whichlitupthelandformiles。Itflungthehomelyeffectoffirelightoverthefaceofvastforestsofgreyorbrown，anditseemedtofillwithwarmtheventheemptinessofuppernight。
Yetthisalso，afteratime，wasallowedtogrowfainter;thedimgroupsgatheredmoreandmoreroundthegreatcauldrons，orpassed，laughingandclattering，intotheinnerpassagesofthatancienthouse。Soontherewereonlysometenloiterersinthegarden;soononlyfour。Finallythelaststraymerry—makerranintothehousewhoopingtohiscompanions。Thefirefaded，andtheslow，strongstarscameout。Andthesevenstrangemenwereleftalone，likesevenstonestatuesontheirchairsofstone。
Notoneofthemhadspokenaword。
Theyseemedinnohastetodoso，butheardinsilencethehumofinsectsandthedistantsongofonebird。ThenSundayspoke，butsodreamilythathemighthavebeencontinuingaconversationratherthanbeginningone。
"Wewilleatanddrinklater，"hesaid。"Letusremaintogetheralittle，wewhohavelovedeachothersosadly，andhavefoughtsolong。Iseemtorememberonlycenturiesofheroicwar，inwhichyouwerealwaysheroes——epiconepic，iliadoniliad，andyoualwaysbrothersinarms。Whetheritwasbutrecently（fortimeisnothing），oratthebeginningoftheworld，Isentyououttowar。Isatinthedarkness，wherethereisnotanycreatedthing，andtoyouIwasonlyavoicecommandingvalourandanunnaturalvirtue。Youheardthevoiceinthedark，andyouneverhearditagain。Thesuninheavendeniedit，theearthandskydeniedit，allhumanwisdomdeniedit。AndwhenImetyouinthedaylightI
denieditmyself。"
Symestirredsharplyinhisseat，butotherwisetherewassilence，andtheincomprehensiblewenton。
"Butyouweremen。Youdidnotforgetyoursecrethonour，thoughthewholecosmosturnedanengineoftorturetotearitoutofyou。Iknewhownearyouweretohell。Iknowhowyou，Thursday，crossedswordswithKingSatan，andhowyou，Wednesday，namedmeinthehourwithouthope。"
Therewascompletesilenceinthestarlitgarden，andthentheblack—browedSecretary，implacable，turnedinhischairtowardsSunday，andsaidinaharshvoice——
"Whoandwhatareyou？"
"IamtheSabbath，"saidtheotherwithoutmoving。"IamthepeaceofGod。"
TheSecretarystartedup，andstoodcrushinghiscostlyrobeinhishand。
"Iknowwhatyoumean，"hecried，"anditisexactlythatthatI
cannotforgiveyou。Iknowyouarecontentment，optimism，whatdotheycallthething，anultimatereconciliation。Well，Iamnotreconciled。Ifyouwerethemaninthedarkroom，whywereyoualsoSunday，anoffensetothesunlight？Ifyouwerefromthefirstourfatherandourfriend，whywereyoualsoourgreatestenemy？Wewept，wefledinterror;theironenteredintooursouls——andyouarethepeaceofGod！Oh，IcanforgiveGodHisanger，thoughitdestroyednations;butIcannotforgiveHimHispeace。"
Sundayanswerednotaword，butveryslowlyheturnedhisfaceofstoneuponSymeasifaskingaquestion。
"No，"saidSyme，"Idonotfeelfiercelikethat。Iamgratefultoyou，notonlyforwineandhospitalityhere，butformanyafinescamperandfreefight。ButIshouldliketoknow。Mysoulandheartareashappyandquiethereasthisoldgarden，butmyreasonisstillcryingout。Ishouldliketoknow。"
SundaylookedatRatcliffe，whoseclearvoicesaid——
"Itseemssosillythatyoushouldhavebeenonbothsidesandfoughtyourself。"
Bullsaid——
"lunderstandnothing，butIamhappy。Infact，Iamgoingtosleep。"
"Iamnothappy，"saidtheProfessorwithhisheadinhishands，"becauseIdonotunderstand。Youletmestrayalittletooneartohell。"
AndthenGogolsaid，withtheabsolutesimplicityofachild——
"IwishIknewwhyIwashurtsomuch。"
StillSundaysaidnothing，butonlysatwithhismightychinuponhishand，andgazedatthedistance。Thenatlasthesaid——
"Ihaveheardyourcomplaintsinorder。Andhere，Ithink，comesanothertocomplain，andwewillhearhimalso。"
Thefallingfireinthegreatcressetthrewalastlonggleam，likeabarofburninggold，acrossthedimgrass。Againstthisfierybandwasoutlinedinutterblacktheadvancinglegsofablack—cladfigure。Heseemedtohaveafineclosesuitwithknee—breechessuchasthatwhichwaswornbytheservantsofthehouse，onlythatitwasnotblue，butofthisabsolutesable。Hehad，liketheservants，akindofwordbyhisside。Itwasonlywhenhehadcomequiteclosetothecrescentofthesevenandflunguphisfacetolookatthem，thatSymesaw，withthunder—struckclearness，thatthefacewasthebroad，almostape—likefaceofhisoldfriendGregory，withitsrankredhairanditsinsultingsmile。
"Gregory！"gaspedSyme，half—risingfromhisseat。"Why，thisistherealanarchist！"
"Yes，"saidGregory，withagreatanddangerousrestraint，"Iamtherealanarchist。"
"’Nowtherewasaday，’"murmuredBull，whoseemedreallytohavefallenasleep，"’whenthesonsofGodcametopresentthemselvesbeforetheLord，andSatancamealsoamongthem。’"
"Youareright，"saidGregory，andgazedallround。"Iamadestroyer。IwoulddestroytheworldifIcould。"
AsenseofapathosfarundertheearthstirredupinSyme，andhespokebrokenlyandwithoutsequence。
"Oh，mostunhappyman，"hecried，"trytobehappy！Youhaveredhairlikeyoursister。"
"Myredhair，likeredflames，shallburnuptheworld，"saidGregory。"IthoughtIhatedeverythingmorethancommonmencanhateanything;butIfindthatIdonothateeverythingsomuchasIhateyou！"
"Ineverhatedyou，"saidSymeverysadly。
Thenoutofthisunintelligiblecreaturethelastthundersbroke。
"You！"hecried。"Youneverhatedbecauseyouneverlived。Iknowwhatyouareallofyou，fromfirsttolast——youarethepeopleinpower！Youarethepolice——thegreatfat，smilingmeninblueandbuttons！YouaretheLaw，andyouhaveneverbeenbroken。Butisthereafreesoulalivethatdoesnotlongtobreakyou，onlybecauseyouhaveneverbeenbroken？WeinrevolttalkallkindofnonsensedoubtlessaboutthiscrimeorthatcrimeoftheGovernment。Itisallfolly！TheonlycrimeoftheGovernmentisthatitgoverns。Theunpardonablesinofthesupremepoweristhatitissupreme。Idonotcurseyouforbeingcruel。Idonotcurseyou（thoughImight）forbeingkind。Icurseyouforbeingsafe！Yousitinyourchairsofstone，andhavenevercomedownfromthem。Youarethesevenangelsofheaven，andyouhavehadnotroubles。Oh，Icouldforgiveyoueverything，youthatruleallmankind，ifIcouldfeelforoncethatyouhadsufferedforonehourarealagonysuchasI——"
Symesprangtohisfeet，shakingfromheadtofoot。
"Iseeeverything，"hecried，"everythingthatthereis。Whydoeseachthingontheearthwaragainsteachotherthing？Whydoeseachsmallthingintheworldhavetofightagainsttheworlditself？Whydoesaflyhavetofightthewholeuniverse？Whydoesadandelionhavetofightthewholeuniverse？ForthesamereasonthatIhadtobealoneinthedreadfulCounciloftheDays。Sothateachthingthatobeyslawmayhavethegloryandisolationoftheanarchist。Sothateachmanfightingforordermaybeasbraveandgoodamanasthedynamiter。SothatthereallieofSatanmaybeflungbackinthefaceofthisblasphemer，sothatbytearsandtorturewemayearntherighttosaytothisman，’Youlie！’Noagoniescanbetoogreattobuytherighttosaytothisaccuser，’Wealsohavesuffered。’
"Itisnottruethatwehaveneverbeenbroken。Wehavebeenbrokenuponthewheel。Itisnottruethatwehaveneverdescendedfromthesethrones。Wehavedescendedintohell。Wewerecomplainingofunforgettablemiseriesevenattheverymomentwhenthismanenteredinsolentlytoaccuseusofhappiness。Irepeltheslander;
wehavenotbeenhappy。IcananswerforeveryoneofthegreatguardsofLawwhomhehasaccused。Atleast——"
HehadturnedhiseyessoastoseesuddenlythegreatfaceofSunday，whichworeastrangesmile。
"Haveyou，"hecriedinadreadfulvoice，"haveyoueversuffered？"
Ashegazed，thegreatfacegrewtoanawfulsize，grewlargerthanthecolossalmaskofMemnon，whichhadmadehimscreamasachild。
Itgrewlargerandlarger，fillingthewholesky;theneverythingwentblack。Onlyintheblacknessbeforeitentirelydestroyedhisbrainheseemedtohearadistantvoicesayingacommonplacetextthathehadheardsomewhere，"CanyedrinkofthecupthatIdrinkof？"
***
Whenmeninbooksawakefromavision，theycommonlyfindthemselvesinsomeplaceinwhichtheymighthavefallenasleep;
theyyawninachair，orliftthemselveswithbruisedlimbsfromafield。Syme’sexperiencewassomethingmuchmorepsychologicallystrangeiftherewasindeedanythingunreal，intheearthlysense，aboutthethingshehadgonethrough。ForwhilehecouldalwaysrememberafterwardsthathehadswoonedbeforethefaceofSunday，hecouldnotrememberhavingevercometoatall。Hecouldonlyrememberthatgraduallyandnaturallyheknewthathewasandhadbeenwalkingalongacountrylanewithaneasyandconversationalcompanion。Thatcompanionhadbeenapartofhisrecentdrama;itwasthered—hairedpoetGregory。Theywerewalkinglikeoldfriends，andwereinthemiddleofaconversationaboutsometriviality。ButSymecouldonlyfeelanunnaturalbuoyancyinhisbodyandacrystalsimplicityinhismindthatseemedtobesuperiortoeverythingthathesaidordid。Hefelthewasinpossessionofsomeimpossiblegoodnews，whichmadeeveryotherthingatriviality，butanadorabletriviality。
Dawnwasbreakingovereverythingincoloursatonceclearandtimid;asifNaturemadeafirstattemptatyellowandafirstattemptatrose。Abreezeblewsocleanandsweet，thatonecouldnotthinkthatitblewfromthesky;itblewratherthroughsomeholeinthesky。Symefeltasimplesurprisewhenhesawrisingallroundhimonbothsidesoftheroadthered，irregularbuildingsofSaffronPark。HehadnoideathathehadwalkedsonearLondon。Hewalkedbyinstinctalongonewhiteroad，onwhichearlybirdshoppedandsang，andfoundhimselfoutsideafencedgarden。TherehesawthesisterofGregory，thegirlwiththegold—redhair，cuttinglilacbeforebreakfast，withthegreatunconsciousgravityofagirl。