On the outskirts, where the crowds were thinner, respectable people were saying to each other: "Well, thank God, he knows what he wants!"
"What does he want then?"
"To show that mob who is master ! He tried treating them kindly. He even went too far in remitting sentences two years ago; they have become impertinent."
"It certainly must be admitted that he is not afraid. My word, this is an historical moment!
Diederich listened ' and was thrilled. The old gentleman who had spoken turned to him. He had white side-whiskers and wore an iron cross.
"Young man," said he, "what our magnificent young Emperor is now doing will be learned one day by the children in their schoolbooks. Wait till you see!"
Many people threw out their chests with an air of reverence. The gentlemen who rode behind the Emperor kept their eyes fixed in front of them, but they guided their horses through the crowd as if all these folk were supers ordered to appear in some royal spectacle. At times they glanced sideways at the public to see how the latter were impressed. The Emperor himself saw only his own personality and his own performance. Profound seriousness was stamped upon his features and his eyes flashed over the thousands whom he had fascinated. He measured himself against them, he, the master by the grace of God, and his rebellious slaves. Alone and unprotected he had dared to come amongst them, strong only in the sense of his mission. They might lay violent hands upon him if that were the will of the Almighty. He offered himself as sacrifice to his sacred trust. He would show them whether God was on his side. Then they would carry away the impression of his action and the eternal memory of their own powerlessneess.
A young man wearing a wide-brimmed hat passed near Diederich and said: "Old stuff. Napoleon in Moscow fraternising alone with the people."
"But it is fine," asserted Diederich, and his voice faltered with emotion. The other shrugged his shoulders.
"Melodrama, and no good, at that."
Diederich looked at him and tried to flash his eyes like the Emperor.
"I suppose you are one of that rabble yourself."
He could not have explained what the rabble was. He simply felt that here, for the first time in his life, he had to defend law and order against hostile criticism. In spite of his agitation, he had another look at the man's shoulders; they were not imposing. The bystanders, too, were expressing disapproval. Then Diederich asserted himself. With his huge stomach he pressed the enemy against the wall and battered in his hat. Others joined in pummelling him, his hat fell to the ground, and soon the man himself lay there. As he moved on, Diederich remarked to his fellow-combatants: "That fellow has certainly not done his military service. He hasn't even got scars on his face; he has never fought a duel."
The old gentleman with the side-whiskers and the iron cross turned up again and shook Diederich's hand.
"Bravo, young man, bravo!"
"Isn't it enough to make you mad," said Diederich, still furious, "when the fellow tries to spoil our historical moment?"
"You have been in the army?" queried the old gentleman.
"I would have liked nothing better than to stay there," Diederich replied.
"Ah, yes, it isn't every day that we have a Sedan." The old gentleman touched his iron cross. "That's what we did!" Diederich stretched himself and pointed to the Emperor and the subdued crowd.
"That is as good as Sedan!"
"Hm, hm," said the old gentleman.
"Allow me, sir," cried some one, waving a notebook. "We must get that. A touch of atmosphere, y'understand? I suppose it was a damned radical you bashed?"
"Oh, a mere trifle"—Diederich was still boiling. "As far as I am concerned this would be the time to go straight for the domestic enemy. We have our Emperor with us."
"Fine," said the reporter as he wrote: "In the wildly agitated throng people of all classes were heard expressing their devoted loyalty and unshakable confidence in His Majesty."
"Hurrah!" shouted Diederich, for every one was shouting, and, caught in a great surge of shouting people, he was carried right along to the Brandenburger Tor. A few steps in front of him rode the Emperor. Diederich could see his face, its stony seriousness and flashing eyes, but he was shouting so much that his sight was blurred. An intoxication, higher and nobler than that which beer procured, raised his feet off the ground and carried him into the air. He waved his hat high above all heads, in a sphere of enthusiastic madness, in a heaven where our finest feelings move. There on the horse rode Power, through the gateway of triumphal entries, with dazzling features but graven as in stone. The Power which transcends us and whose hoofs we kiss, the Power which is beyond the reach of hunger, spite and mockery! Against it we are impotent, for we all love it! We have it in our blood, for in our blood is submission. We are an atom of that Power, a diminutive molecule of something it has given out. Each one of us is as nothing, but massed in ranks as Neo-Teutons, soldiers, bureaucrats, priests and scientists, as economic organisations and unions of power, we taper up like a pyramid to the point at the top where Power itself stands, graven and dazzling. In it we live and have our being, merciless towards those who are remote beneath us, and triumphing even when we ourselves are crushed, for thus does power justify our love for it!
… One of the policemen lined up to keep a clear passage through the gateway gave Diederich a blow in the chest that took his breath away, but his eyes were full of the tumult of victory, as if he himself were riding away over all these wretches who had been cowed into swallowing their hunger. Let us follow him ! Follow the Emperor! They all felt as Diederich did. A chain of policemen was too weak to restrain so much feeling. The people broke through. Beyond the gate was another chain, so they had to make a detour, find a gap, and reach the Tiergarten by a roundabout way. Only a few succeeded, and Diederich was alone when he stumbled onto the riding alley in the direction of the Emperor, who was also alone. A man in a very dangerous state of fanaticism, dirty and torn, with wild eyes—from his horse the Emperor gave him a piercing glance which went through him. Diederich snatched his hat off, his mouth was wide open but not a sound came from it. As he came to a sudden stop he slipped and sat down violently in a puddle, with his legs in the air, splashed with muddy water. Then the Emperor laughed. The fellow was a monarchist, a loyal subject! The Emperor turned to his escort, slapped his thigh and laughed. From the depths of his puddle Diederich stared after him, open-mouthed.
Chapter 2
II
He brushed his clothes carefully and turned away. A lady was sitting on a seat, and Diederich did not feel anxious to pass in front of her. To make matters worse, she kept looking towards him. "Silly fool," he thought angrily, but then he noticed an expression of great astonishment on her face and he recognised that it was Agnes Göppel.
"I have just met the Emperor," he began at once.
"The Emperor?" she asked abstractedly. With large, unaccustomed gestures he began to pour out the emotions which were choking him. Our magnificent young Emperor, all alone in the midst of a mob of revolutionaries! They had smashed up a cafe, and Diederich himself had been in it! He had fought bloody fights Unter den Linden for his Emperor! They ought to have turned machine guns on them!
"I suppose the people are hungry," said Agnes gravely. "They, too, are human beings."
"Do you call them human?" Diederich rolled his eyes indignantly. "They are the domestic enemy, that's what they are!" But he grew a little calmer when he saw Agnes start again with fear.
"No doubt it amuses you to find all the streets barred on account of that mob."
No, that was most inconvenient for Agnes. She had had some errands in the city, but when she wanted to go back to Bliicherstrasse there were