The Lady Nirea was in his arms, kissing his lips that were caked with three kinds of blood; and Revel the Mink forgot the pain in his torn body, the utter weariness of brain and muscle, and everything else except what was good and sweet and wonderful. * * * * * Three months had passed, and the leaders of the successful rebellion of Earth were sitting in a drinking-house (legal now) downing toasts to various people and events. Revel and his wife Nirea sat at the head of the board, and down the sides ranged their friends and lieutenants: the giant Rack and the tiny Jerran, Dawvys and a dozen others, with John Klapham at the foot. "To the end of the globes," said John, his tongue a trifle thick by now. "By gad, you brew potent stuff in these times! To the gods' finish!" They drank that standing, roaring it out gleefully. Revel said, "It was a sight to see, that--thousands upon thousands of buttons, all sweeping into the sky and vanishing into dots and then nothing ... and here's to the gentry they took with 'em!" "How many went?" asked Nirea, though she knew as well as he. "Seven thousand and four hundred and ten, squires and their ladies, electing to travel out of the world for promised power in another!" Revel grinned wolfishly. "And here's to the priests who weren't allowed to go, and so have become miners and know what it is to sweat!" Rack stood up, looming gigantic above them. "Here's to the men awakening now all over this country--the men of the Ancient Kingdom!" "And the things they can teach us," added Jerran. "And a toast to the most important of those things--the art of tobacco growing!" shouted John gaily. They sat down after that, and Revel said to John affectionately, "If it hadn't been for you, friend, we'd still be ruckers and worse. You gave us a new world." "Rot. I gave you a technical skill--you furnished the brains, brawn and motivating force, a legend come to life. I was only one more weapon in your hand." Lady Nirea touched the Mink's arm tenderly. "We'll all be weapons in your hands now, Revel. Tools to make a civilization again--to make the last verse of the old song come true." "Let's sing it," said Dawvys, a little in his cups by now. "Let's all sing it loud." "The gods have flown beyond the sky, The priests toil underground; The gentry's curse is lifted free, And all our foes are downed.... "Now over all the Mink he reigns, And gone are rank and caste; The ruck is lifted from the mire-- And we are free at last!" * * * * * They finished the rousing song and looked expectantly at the Mink; but he had borne back Lady Nirea on the bench and was kissing her with enormous warmth, so that even a prophetic song, written about him ages before he was born, could not tear loose from him the only chains that would ever bind him again--the wrought-steel, invisible, shatter-proof shackles of Nirea's love.