As I rose to my feet, Regan sprung lightly past me. He took his stand upon a huge square rock; from his cloak he drew a large silken banner wrought with a showy design in red and gold. He shook its folds to the wind.
“I claim this world, with all its contents, by right of discovery! It is my just possession! Its sovereign am I! Its seas are my ways, its lands my domains, its people my subjects!”
Turning to Father Renaudin, Regan held toward him a shining band of silver, set with gems.
“Here, Father Renaudin, put this on my brow! You are the highest religious dignitary of the world in which I am!”
“Not so!” cried I. “No man’s subject am I! The people rule! Father Renaudin, you will not found a monarchy where no such absurd abomination has ever existed!”
“Have not the worlds themselves one sun supreme for ruler? Find in the universe one whirling, stupendous monarchy! Where is the denunciation in Holy Writ against a good king? God himself upholds thrones!”
“This man is a scoundrel, a fiendish monster! See how he toys with lives and souls.”
“Think, with his superhuman strength and intelligence, how brilliant shall he stand; as an archangel at that last day, when, his work done, he shall bring in his nations and their glory!”
Father Renaudin passed me by, and, in another moment, stood beside Regan. He placed the crown upon his brow. His flag fell like a radiant robe about him. His triumphant eyes were magnificent.
Close beside the rock where he stood was Isabella, gazing steadfastly. Her look was almost devotional. My heart beat slower when I beheld her. Everything seemed falling. I realized with all the rest, “Duped, duped, duped!” Regan a king—I standing mute, a subject, listening to the first prayer upon the star for blessings on his head—this man whose friendship I had despised, this vagabond whom I had at times patronized!