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Updated: May 14, 2025
All that was known even this morning was that the Presidentship of Europe was a fact; the little silver coin he had seen witnessed to that; that there had been an outburst of persecution, repressed sternly by local authorities; and that Felsenburgh was to-day to begin his tour from capital to capital. He was expected in Turin by the end of the week.
He had stated his belief that they were on the edge of a movement unparalleled in history: he related little scenes that he had witnessed a group kneeling before a picture of Felsenburgh, a dying man calling him by name, the aspect of the crowd that had waited in Westminster to hear the result of the offer made to the stranger.
Felsenburgh was called the Son of Man, because he was so pure-bred a cosmopolitan; the Saviour of the World, because he had slain war and himself survived even even here Percy's voice faltered even Incarnate God, because he was the perfect representative of divine man. The quiet, priestly face watching opposite never winced or moved; and he went on. Persecution, he said, was coming.
His emotions had been stormed, his intellect silenced, his memory of grace obscured, a spiritual nausea had sickened his soul, yet the secret fortress of the will had, in an agony, held fast the doors and refused to cry out and call Felsenburgh king. Ah! how he had prayed during those three weeks! It appeared to him that he had done little else; there had been no peace.
"I hear that Felsenburgh is a Mason," observed Monsignor Macintosh, the Cathedral Administrator. "A Grand-Master or something." "But who is Felsenburgh?" put in a young priest. Monsignor pursed his lips and shook his head. He was one of those humble persons as proud of ignorance as others of knowledge.
Felsenburgh it was he then who had done this thing this thing undoubtedly greater than any secular event hitherto known in civilisation. What manner of man was he? What was his character, his motive, his method? How would he use his success?... So the points flew before him like a stream of sparks, each, it might be, harmless; each, equally, capable of setting a world on fire.
"He will be a great man, now, you know." She still looked at him in silence, smiling a little. Percy was astonished at the youthfulness of that old face. Then her face changed. "Father, I must not keep you; but tell me this Who is this man?" "Felsenburgh?" "Yes." "No one knows. We shall know more to-morrow. He is in town to-night."
The new proposal was to the effect that Felsenburgh should assume a position hitherto undreamed of in democracy; that he should receive a House of Government in every capital of Europe; that his veto of any measure should be final for three years; that any measure he chose to introduce three times in three consecutive years should become law; that his title should be that of President of Europe.
It's too big for the imagination, I suppose. There is no doubt that the East has been preparing for a descent on Europe for these last five years. They have only been checked by America; and this is one last attempt to stop them. But why Felsenburgh should come to the front " he broke off. "He must be a good linguist, at any rate.
It appeared to him as if his musings in St. Anastasia had been truer than he thought, and that the sweetness of the old feast had not yet wholly lost its power even over a world that denied its substance. For nothing at all had happened of importance. A few more martyrdoms had been chronicled, but they had been isolated cases; and of Felsenburgh there had been no tidings at all.
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