Yes, as Mabel had said; this was now their work--to carry into effect the new principle that had suddenly become incarnate in this grey-haired young American--the principle of Universal Brotherhood. It would mean enormous labour; all foreign relations would have to be readjusted--trade, policy, methods of government--all demanded re-statement. Europe was already organised internally on a basis of mutual protection: that basis was now gone. There was no more any protection, because there was no more any menace. Enormous labour, too, awaited the Government in other directions. A Blue-book must be prepared, containing a complete report of the proceedings in the East, together with the text of the Treaty which had been laid before them in Paris, signed by the Eastern Emperor, the feudal kings, the Turkish Republic, and countersigned by the American plenipotentiaries.... Finally, even home politics required reform: the friction of old strife between centre and extremes must cease forthwith--there must be but one party now, and that at the Prophet’s disposal.... He grew bewildered as he regarded the prospect, and saw how the whole plane of the world was shifted, how the entire foundation of western life required readjustment. It was a Revolution indeed, a cataclysm more stupendous than even invasion itself; but it was the conversion of darkness into light, and chaos into order. He drew a deep breath, and so sat pondering. * * * * * Mabel came down to him half-an-hour later, as he dined early before starting for Whitehall. “Mother is quieter,” she said. “We must be very patient, Oliver. Have you decided yet as to whether the priest is to come again?” He shook his head. “I can think of nothing,” he said, “but of what I have to do. You decide, my dear; I leave it in your hands.” She nodded. “I will talk to her again presently. Just now she can understand very little of what has happened.... What time shall you be home?” “Probably not to-night. We shall sit all night.” “Yes, dear. And what shall I tell Mr. Phillips?” “I will telephone in the morning.... Mabel, do you remember what I told you about the priest?” “His likeness to the other?” “Yes. What do you make of that?” She smiled. “I make nothing at all of it. Why should they not be alike?” He took a fig from the dish, and swallowed it, and stood up. “It is only very curious,” he said. “Now, good-night, my dear.” III “Oh, mother,” said Mabel, kneeling by the bed; “cannot you understand what has happened?” She had tried desperately to tell the old lady of the extraordinary change that had taken place in the world--and without success. It seemed to her that some great issue depended on it; that it would be piteous if the old woman went out into the dark unconscious of what had come. It was as if a Christian knelt by the death-bed of a Jew on the first Easter Monday. But the old lady lay in her bed, terrified but obdurate.