They passed on, and at a short interval behind them came the Emperor Wilhelm.

His supreme importance was emphasized by the space left before and after him.

Wreaths covered his purple saddle, flowers drooped over the glossy skin of his high-stepping charger, his helmeted head and his gloved hand saluted and bowed, and on his face shone a mingled expression of gratitude and emotion, which, after the hard, cold bearing of his fellow-workers, was doubly impressive and affecting.
Manifestly this conqueror was not like his Roman prototype who had the words, "Think of death," whispered in his ear, while he tolerated the idolization of the people.
The monarch had to hear long speeches from the officials and verses from the trembling lips of the young girls who surrounded him before he could ride further.

The train of individual heroes ended with him.

The principle of massing together was now the order, in which individuality is no longer recognized.
Battalion after battalion and squadron after squadron in endless lines passed by, until the tired eyes of the spectators could hardly after a time distinguish whether the lines were still moving, or had come to a standstill.