A smile played about his lips; he quickened his
pace, lifted his head high, his nostrils dilated wide; he looked
dreamily over the housetops into the sky and saw only the face of
a woman.
He was in the grip of superhuman impulses. In the quickened throb
of his heart and the rush of his blood was the sweep of subconscious
forces of nature playing their role in the cosmic drama of all
sentient life, laughing at man's laws, making and unmaking the
history of races and worlds.
He was justifying his desires now in his new-found Social philosophy,
which he had studied closely since Overman's suggestion of its
scope.
He knew instinctively that between these elemental impulses and
the Moral Law there was war. He would reconcile them by leading a
revolution that should decree a new basis for the Moral Law itself.
He would make these very subconscious forces the expression of the
highest Moral Law. It suddenly flashed over him that this was the
key to the paradox of life. He would be the prophet of the new era,
and this beautiful woman his comrade in leadership in the Social
Revolution it must bring.
His face flushed with the new enthusiasm, and the glorious autumn
day about him seemed one with his spirit.
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