They only awaited his signal.

Paul tasted a joy known but to few of the sons of men-absolute power over, and supreme contempt for, his fellows.

He stood for a moment or two, in the grey, miserable street discordant with the wailings of babies and the clamour of futile little girls, who, after the manner of women, had no idea of political crisis, and the shrill objurgations of slattern mothers and the raucous cries of an idealist vendor of hyacinths, and, cocked hat on head and wooden sword in hand, he looked at his fawning army.

Then came the touch of genius that was often to characterize his actions in after years.

It was mimetic, as he had read of such a thing in his paper-covered textbooks-but it was none the less a touch of genius.