"He is a man quite inexperienced in our work," he said, and sat down abruptly.
Before he had done so, the long, lean man with the American beard was again upon his feet, and was repeating in a high American monotone-- "I beg to second the election of Comrade Syme." "The amendment will, as usual, be put first," said Mr.Buttons, the chairman, with mechanical rapidity.
"The question is that Comrade Syme--" Gregory had again sprung to his feet, panting and passionate.
"Comrades," he cried out, "I am not a madman." "Oh, oh!" said Mr.Witherspoon.
"I am not a madman," reiterated Gregory, with a frightful sincerity which for a moment staggered the room, "but I give you a counsel which you can call mad if you like.

No, I will not call it a counsel, for I can give you no reason for it.

I will call it a command.

Call it a mad command, but act upon it.

Strike, but hear me! Kill me, but obey me! Do not elect this man." Truth is so terrible, even in fetters, that for a moment Syme's slender and insane victory swayed like a reed.