And already, by signs audible
through the darkness, by snortings and tramplings, our angry horses,
that knew no fear or fleshly weariness, upbraided us with delay.
Wherefore _was_ it that we delayed? We waited for a secret word,
that should bear witness to the hope of nations as now accomplished for
ever. At midnight the secret word arrived; which word was--_Waterloo
and Recovered Christendom!_ The dreadful word shone by its own light;
before us it went; high above our leaders' heads it rode, and spread a
golden light over the paths which we traversed. Every city, at the
presence of the secret word, threw open its gates. The rivers were
conscious as we crossed. All the forests, as we ran along their
margins, shivered in homage to the secret word. And the darkness
comprehended it.
Two hours after midnight we approached a mighty Minster. Its gates,
which rose to the clouds, were closed. But, when the dreadful word that
rode before us reached them with its golden light, silently they moved
back upon their hinges; and at a flying gallop our equipage entered the
grand aisle of the cathedral. Headlong was our pace; and at every
altar, in the little chapels and oratories to the right hand and left
of our course, the lamps, dying or sickening, kindled anew in sympathy
with the secret word that was flying past. Forty leagues we might have
run in the cathedral, and as yet no strength of morning light had
reached us, when before us we saw the aerial galleries of organ and
choir.
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