He had not come unprepared for opposition; to meet it he had wound himself to a pitch, telling himself that after this all would be easy; that he had this one peril to face, this one obstacle to surmount, and having succeeded might rest.
Nevertheless, as he passed up the Great Council Chamber amid that silence, and met strange looks on faces which were wont to smile, his courage for one moment, even in that familiar scene--conscience makes cowards of all--wavered.

His smile grew sickly, his nerves seemed suddenly unstrung, his knees shook under him.

It was a dreadful instant of physical weakness, of mental terror, under the eyes of all.

To himself, he seemed to stand still; to be self-betrayed, self-convicted! Then--and so brief was the moment of weakness no eye detected it--he moved on to his place, and with his usual coolness took his seat.

He looked round.
"You are early," he said, ignoring the glances, hostile or doubtful, that met his gaze.