On Everything
was room upon the colours for a million names of victories, but every victory in some way carried the Stamp of defeat. And yet seeing all that pageant as the precursor of failure, he saw it also as something constructive. Ho thought of wood that burns and is consumed, but is the fuel of a flame of fire and all that fire can do.
As he so thought, like a wind and a spirit blowing through the whole came some vast conception of a a God. And once again the mixed, the dual feeling seized him, more greatly than before. It was a God that drove them all, and him. And that God was in his childhood, and he remembered his childhood very clearly. It was something of which he had been convinced in childhood, a security of good. . . . Look how the army moved! . . .
And now it had halted.
Here his mind failed, and he had died. It was Napoleon.
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