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Section 2
And one at least of those who were called to this conference of
governments came to it on foot. This was King Egbert, the young king
of the most venerable kingdom in Europe. He was a rebel, and had always
been of deliberate choice a rebel against the magnificence of his
position. He affected long pedestrian tours and a disposition to sleep
in the open air. He came now over the Pass of Sta Maria Maggiore and
by boat up the lake to Brissago; thence he walked up the mountain, a
pleasant path set with oaks and sweet chestnut. For provision on the
walk, for he did not want to hurry, he carried with him a pocketful
of bread and cheese. A certain small retinue that was necessary to his
comfort and dignity upon occasions of state he sent on by the cable car,
and with him walked his private secretary, Firmin, a man who had
thrown up the Professorship of World Politics in the London School of
Sociology, Economics, and Political Science, to take up these duties.
Firmin was a man of strong rather than rapid thought, he had anticipated
great influence in this new position, and after some years he was still
only beginning to apprehend how largely his function was to listen.
Originally he had been something of a thinker upon international
politics, an authority upon tariffs and strategy, and a valued
contributor to various of the higher organs of public opinion, but the
atomic bombs had taken him by surprise, and he had still to recover
completely from his pre-atomic opinions and the silencing effect of
those sustained explosives.
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