[Fritzi Klose]

twenty
minutes when a messenger hurried on to the platform and a scrap of paper
was slipped into the speaker's hand. He unrolled and read it without
pausing in his speech. Nothing altered in his voice or manner, or in the
content of what he was saying, but suddenly the names were different.
Without words said, a wave of understanding rippled through the crowd.
Oceania was at war with Eastasia! The next moment there was a tremendous
commotion. The banners and posters with which the square was decorated were
all wrong! Quite half of them had the wrong faces on them. It was sabotage!
The agents of Goldstein had been at work! There was a riotous interlude
while posters were ripped from the walls, banners torn to shreds and
trampled underfoot. The Spies performed prodigies of activity in clambering
over the rooftops and cutting the streamers that fluttered from the
chimneys. But within two or three minutes it was all over. The orator,
still gripping the neck of the microphone, his shoulders hunched forward,
his free hand clawing at the air, had gone straight on with his speech. One
minute more, and the feral roars of rage were again bursting from the
crowd. The Hate continued exactly as before, except that the