"Ah yes, I know," said Em--"the poor prophet whom the lions ate. I am
always so sorry for him."

Her companion cast a quiet glance upon her.

"He was the greatest man who ever lived," she said, "the man I like best."

"And what did he do?" asked Em, conscious that she had made a mistake, and
that her prophet was not the man.

"He was one man, only one," said her little companion slowly, "yet all the
people in the world feared him. He was not born great, he was common as we
are; yet he was master of the world at last. Once he was only a little
child, then he was a lieutenant, then he was a general, then he was an
emperor. When he said a thing to himself he never forgot it. He waited,
and waited and waited, and it came at last."

"He must have been very happy," said Em.

"I do not know," said Lyndall; "but he had what he said he would have, and
that is better than being happy. He was their master, and all the people
were white with fear of him. They joined together to fight him. He was
one and they were many, and they got him down at last. They were like the
wild cats when their teeth are fast in a great dog, like cowardly wild
cats," said the child, "they would not let him go. There were many; he was
only one. They sent him to an island on the sea, a lonely island, and kept
him there fast. He was one man, and they were many, and they were
terrified at him. It was glorious!" said the child.