ecting the task he had undertaken in coming to earth, he forgot all
about the emancipation of the angels. Arcade, who, on the contrary,
dreamed of nothing else but of conquering Heaven and returning thither
in triumph, reproached the Cherub with forgetting his native land.

Prince Istar, with a great frank, uncouth laugh, acknowledged that he
had no preference for angels over men.

"If I am doing my best," he replied to his celestial brother, "if I am
doing my best to stir up France and Europe, it is because the day is
dawning which will behold the triumph of the social revolution. It is a
pleasure to cast one's seed on ground so well prepared. The French
having passed from feudalism to monarchy, and from monarchy to a
financial oligarchy, will easily pass from a financial oligarchy to
anarchy."

"How erroneous it is," retorted Arcade, "to believe in great and sudden
changes in the social order in Europe! The old order is still young in
strength and power. The means of defence at her disposal are formidable.
On the other hand, the proletariat's plan of defensive organisation is
of the vaguest description and brings merely weakness and confusion to
the struggle. In our celestial country all goes quite otherwise. Beneath
an apparently unchangeable exterior all is rotten within. A mere push
would suffice to overturn an edifice which has not been touched for
millions of centuries. Out-worn administration, out-worn army, out-worn
finance, the whole thing is more worm-eaten than either the Russian or
Persian autocracy."

And the kindly Arcade adjured the Cherub to fly first to the aid of his
brethren who, though dwelling amid the soft clouds with the sound of
citterns and their cups of paradisal wine around them, were in more
wretched plight than mankind bowed over the grudging earth. For the
latter have a conception of justice, while the angels rejoice in
iniquity. He exhorted him to deliver the Prince of Light and his
stricken companions and to re-establish them in their ancient honours.

Prince Istar allowed himself to be convinced.

He promised to put the sweet persuasiveness of his words and the
excellent formulae of his explosives at the service of the celestial
revolution. He gave his promise.

"To-morrow," he said.

And when the morrow came he continued his anti-militarist propaganda at
Issy-les-Moulineaux. Like the Titan Prometheus, Istar loved mankind.

Arcade, suffering from all the desires to which the s