“I don’t know why I should have changed my mind.”

“Then it’s as if we were in the presence of Charles II. just before he was called back to England, or Napoleon in the last moments of Elba.  It’s better than that.  The thing is almost unique; it’s a new situation in history.  Here’s a sovereign who has no recognized function, no legal status, no objective existence.  He has no sort of public being, except in the affection of his subjects.  It took an upheaval little short of an earthquake to unseat him.  His rule, as we understand it, was bad for all classes; the poor suffered more than the rich; the people have now had three years of self-government; and yet this wonderful man has such a hold upon the masses that he is going home to win the cause of oppression at the head of the oppressed.  When he’s in power again, he will be as subjective as ever, with the power of civic life and death, and an idolatrous following perfectly ruthless in the execution of his will.”

“We’ve only begun,” said the general.  “This kind of king is municipal, now; but he’s going to be national.  And then, good-by, Republic!”

“The only thing like it,” March resumed, too incredulous of the evil future to deny himself the aesthetic pleasure of the parallel, “is the rise of the Medici in Florence, but even the Medici were not mere manipulators of pulls; they had some sort of public office, with some sort of legislated tenure of it.  The King of New York is sovereign by force of will alone, and he will reign in the voluntary submission of the majority.  Is our national dictator to be of the same nature and quality?”

“It would be the scientific evolution, wouldn’t it?”

The ladies listened with the perfunctory attention which women pay to any sort of inquiry which is not personal.  Stoller had scarcely spoken yet; he now startled them all by demanding, with a sort of vindictive force, “Why shouldn’t he have the power, if they’re willing to let him?”

“Yes,” said General Triscoe, with a tilt of his head towards March.  “That’s what we must ask ourselves more and more.”

March leaned back in his chair, and looked up over his shoulder at Stoller.  “Well, I don’t know.  Do you think it’s quite right for a man to use an unjust power, even if others are willing that he should?”

Stoller stopped with an air of bewilderment as if surprised on the point of saying that he thought just this.  He asked instead, “What’s wrong about it?”

“Well, that’s one of those things that have to be felt, I suppose.  But if a man came to you, and offered to be your slave for a certain consideration—­say a comfortable house, and a steady job, that wasn’t too hard—­should you feel it morally right to accept the offer?  I don’t say think it right, for there might be a kind of logic for it.”

Stoller seemed about to answer; he hesitated; and before he had made any response, the curtain rose.