to see about him the closely packed crowd, the sea of
faces, the thick, black mass of humanity, and he knew the tremendous
power that lay in the inert, passive resistance of a vast gathering
such as had been present. Had it been anywhere else, in a street, in a
theatre, anywhere except in a church, all would have been well. It had
not been his fault, for he knew, when he thought of it calmly, that the
strength of his body would have been but as a breath of air against the
silent, motionless, and immovable barrier presented by a thousand men,
standing shoulder to shoulder against him. He could have done nothing.
Once again his fate had defeated him at the moment of success.

He was aware that some one was standing very near to him. He looked up
and saw a very short, gray-bearded man engaged in a minute examination
of the dark red marble face on the astronomer's tomb. The man's head,
covered with closely-cropped gray hair, was half buried between his
high, broad shoulders, in an immense collar of fur, but the shape of
the skull was so singular as to distinguish its possessor, when hatless,
from all other men. The cranium was abnormally shaped, reaching a great
elevation at the summit, then sinking suddenly, then spreading forward
to an enormous development at the temple just visible as he was then
standing, and at the same time forming unusual protuberances behind the
large and pointed ears. No one who knew the man could mistake his head,
when even the least portion of it could be seen. The Wanderer recognised
him at once.

As though he were conscious of being watched, the little man turned
sharply, exhibiting his wrinkled forehead, broad at the brows, narrow
and high in the middle, showing, too, a Socratic nose half buried in the
midst of the gray hair which grew as high as the prominent cheek bones,
and suggesting the idea of a polished ivory ball lying in a nest of
grayish wool. Indeed all that was visible of the face above the beard
might have been carved out of old ivory, so far as the hue and quality
of the surface were concerned; and if it had been necessary to sculpture
a portrait of the man, no material could have been chosen more fitted
to reproduce faithfully the deep cutting of the features, to render the
close network of the wrinkles which covered them like the shadings of a
line engraving, and at the same time to give the whole that appearance
of hardness and smoothness which was peculiar to the clear, tough