The New Commandment

xit, through a narrow street of attractions, and felt himself wearied and satiated utterly by the miles and miles of displays and marvels past which he had loitered for ten long hours of the day. It was a wonderful achievement, this fair of mighty nations. He acknowledged the fact, but it had palled upon him, particularly this garish show-thoroughfare. To right and left his eyes and ears were assaulted by open-air exhibitions and open-air clamor of voices, musical instruments, and abominable devices for attracting the jaded attention of the crowds. He had lost all interest in music, people and wonders. The air was stifling. Men, women and children were overheated, dusty, and irascible. The sun had descended behind a gilded dome, leaving banks of frowning clouds in the sky to press the sultry heat upon the earth. Ghent was impatient for air. His mountain-loving body was caged and fretful in this poverty of oxygen. Only by an effort could he manage to restrain the impulse of his arms to clear a way ruthlessly through the slow-moving horde to outside air and liberty. Five years earlier the man would have crushed his way to the open, but to-day, at twenty-seven years of age, he was master of his being, and controlled his passions and emotions as a trainer might control a puma whelp. At length beyond the invasion of a shrill musette and the haunting percussions of a beaten drum, Ghent firmly shouldered his way to the outermost edge of the torrent of human b...