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reasons for being on the one side or the other； as； for instance；
that their father had been so before them； that their bread was
buttered yellow or buttered blue； that they had been on the other
side last time； that they had thought it over and made up their
minds； that they had innocent blue or naive yellow beer within； that
his lordship was the man； or that the words proper to their mouths
were 'Chilcox for Bucklandbury'； and； above all； the one really
creditable reason； that； so far as they could tell with the best of
their intellect and feelings； the truth at the moment was either blue
or yellow。
The narrow high street was thronged with voters。 Tall policemen
stationed there had nothing to do。 The certainty of all； that they
were going to win； seemed to keep everyone in good humour。 There was
as yet no need to break anyone's head； for though the sharpest
lookout was kept for any signs of the philosophic eye； it was only to
be foundoutside Courtierin the perambulators of babies； in one
old man who rode a bicycle waveringly along the street and stopped to
ask a policeman what was the matter in the town； and in two rather
green…faced fellows who trundled barrows full of favours both blue
and yellow。
But though Courtier eyed the 'facts' with such suspicion； the
keenness of everyone about the business struck him as really
splendid。 They went at it with a will。 Having looked forward to it
for months； they were going to look back on it for months。 It was
evidently a religious ceremony； summing up most high feelings； and
this seemed to one who was himself a man of action； natural； perhaps
pathetic； but certainly no matter for scorn。
It was already late in the afternoon when there came debouching into
the high street a long string of sandwichmen； each bearing before and
behind him a poster containing these words beautifully situated in
large dark blue letters against a pale blue ground：
〃NEW COMPLICATIONS。
DANGER NOT PAST。
VOTE FOR MILTOUN AND THE GOVERNMENT；
AND SAVE THE EMPIRE。〃
Courtier stopped to look at them with peculiar indignation。 Not only
did this poster tramp in again on his cherished convictions about
Peace； but he saw in it something more than met the unphilosophic
eye。 It symbolized for him all that was catch…penny in the national
life…an epitaph on the grave of generosity； unutterably sad。 Yet
from a Party point of view what could be more justifiable？ Was it
not desperately important that every blue nerve should be strained
that day to turn yellow nerves； if not blue； at all events green；
before night fell？ Was it not perfectly true that the Empire could
only be saved by voting blue？ Could they help a blue paper printing
the words； 'New complications；' which he had read that morning？ No
more than the yellows could help a yellow journal printing the words
'Lord Miltoun's Evening Adventure。' Their only business was to win；
ever fighting fair。 The yellows had not fought fair； they never did；
and one of their most unfair tactics was the way they had of always
accusing the blues of unfair fighting； an accusation truly ludicrous！
As for truth！ That which helped the world to be blue； was obviously
true； that which didn't； as obviously not。 There was no middle
policy！ The man who saw things neither was a softy； and no proper
citizen。 And as for giving the yellows credit for sinceritythe
yellows never gave them credit！ But though Courtier knew all that；
this poster seemed to him particularly damnable； and he could not for
the life of him resist striking one of the sandwich…boards with his
cane。 The resounding thwack startled a butcher's pony standing by
the pavement。 It reared； and bolted forward； with Courtier； who had
naturally seized the rein； hanging on。 A dog dashed past。 Courtier
tripped and fell。 The pony； passing over； struck him on the head
with a hoof。 For a moment he lost consciousness； then coming to
himself； refused assistance； and went to his hotel。 He felt very
giddy； and； after bandaging a nasty cut； lay down on his bed。
Miltoun； returning from that necessary exhibition of himself； the
crowning fact； at every polling centre； found time to go and see him。
〃That last poster of yours！〃 Courtier began； at once。
〃I'm having it withdrawn。〃
〃It's done the trickcongratulationsyou'll get in！〃
〃I knew nothing of it。〃
〃My dear fellow； I didn't suppose you did。〃
〃When there is a desert； Courtier； between a man and the sacred city；
he doesn't renounce his journey because he has to wash in dirty water
on the way： The mobhow I loathe it！〃
There was such pent…up fury in those words as to astonish even one
whose life had been passed in conflict with majorities。
〃I hate its mean stupidities； I hate the sound of its voice； and the
look on its faceit's so ugly； it's so little。 Courtier； I suffer
purgatory from the thought that I shall scrape in by the votes of the
mob。 There is sin in using this creature and I am expiating it。〃
To this strange outburst； Courtier at first made no reply。
〃You've been working too hard；〃 he said at last； 〃you're off your
balance。 After all； the mob's made up of men like you and me。〃
〃No； Courtier； the mob is not made up of men like you and me。 If it
were it would not be the mob。〃
〃It looks；〃 Courtier answered gravely； 〃as if you had no business in
this galley。 I've always steered clear of it myself。〃
〃You follow your feelings。 I have not that happiness。〃
So saying； Miltoun turned to the door。
Courtier's voice pursued him earnestly。
〃Drop your politicsif you feel like this about them； don't waste
your life following whatever it is you follow； don't waste hers！〃
But Miltoun did not answer。
It was a wondrous still night； when； a few minutes before twelve；
with his forehead bandaged under his hat； the champion of lost causes
left the hotel and made his way towards the Grammar School for the
declaration of the poll。 A sound as of some monster breathing guided
him； till； from a steep empty street he came in sight of a surging
crowd； spread over the town square； like a dark carpet patterned by
splashes of lamplight。 High up above that crowd； on the little
peaked tower of the Grammar School； a brightly lighted clock face
presided； and over the passionate hopes in those thousands of hearts
knit together by suspense the sky had lifted； and showed no cloud
between them and the purple fields of air。 To Courtier descending
towards the square； the swaying white faces； turned all one way；
seemed like the heads of giant wild flowers in a dark field； shivered
by wind。 The night had charmed away the blue and yellow facts； and
breathed down into that throng the spirit of emotion。 And he
realized all at once the beauty and meaning of this sceneexpression
of the quivering forces； whose perpetual flux； controlled by the
Spirit of Balance； was the soul of the world。 Thousands of hearts
with the thought of self lost in one over…mastering excitement！
An old man with a long grey beard； standing close to his elbow；
murmured：
〃'Tis anxious workI wouldn't h