But his
progress had been painfully slow, and he had made no effort to hurry.
Any sign of anxiety or excitement would have looked like fear to the
suspicious, hate-filled eyes of the men who swarmed about him, and
whatever else happened, they should not see an Englishman afraid. The
knowledge that he rode there alone, the representative of his nation,
added a greater dignity, a greater firmness to his already calm and
upright bearing. It was no new situation for him--it is never an
exceptional situation in a country where Englishmen are always in the
minority--and it inspired him, as it had always done since his
earliest lieutenant days. He knew that as he acted, looked, and spoke,
so would the image of his country be stamped upon the minds of a
hundred thousand and their children's children. There was no vanity,
no self-importance in this conception of his duty. It was a stern,
unbending acceptance of his responsibility; and as in the lonely fort
upon the frontier where he had dominated, unaided, month after month,
over wild, antagonistic races, so now, unarmed and unprotected, he
dominated over the fanatic rabble by the pure force of a complete
personality. He was to all intents and purposes their prisoner, but he
rode there as their conqueror; and that most splendid triumph of all
triumphs--the unseen victory of will over will--filled him with a new
confidence and hope.
Yet it was three o'clock before he reached the palace gates.
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