"That child, too, I may have made fatherless even now," he thought, and shuddered.
"How to end it?" His mind kept him remorselessly at work. "I have failed. Another man might know--so many claim to know. If a better man were in my place, perhaps he could stop the killing and the sorrow."
He was approaching a poorer part of the city, where modest homes and small industries bound about the lives of simple folk, quite apart from the square, dignified old houses where the aristocrats lived. The houses seemed to press in upon him like the sorrows of the world. He thought of those who had gone out from them.
"My hand sent them out--the bright youth, North and South--to kill and to be killed. And my hand cannot bring them back. Had I the right to do it? How could I have thought that any good could come from such as I? I thought I saw clearly--I, sprung out of such darkness--having seen such sin. What right had I to think that I could lead? It was a crime!"
He came to a group of tiny two-story shops--cobblers' rooms, dingy groceries.
"Would it not be less a sin to end it all--to make way for some man who was not cursed before he was born? Surely it would not be a sin to lay it all down--no matter the way--to end it all--to make way--"
A little child, turning to go into one of the shops, brushed lightly against him, and he started. When he looked up his face was tragic. Through the daze came a recollection. Surely it was here, the fifth door from the corner, that he was going. It was a toy-shop he was looking for. Yes, that was the name--Schotz. For the son had said he wanted toys. The father entered the shop, though he saw but dimly. His mind was turned in on its own sorrows, and he went in, muttering to his own ears: "To end it all--to make way."
He had to wait for a moment while the mite who had ushered him in made a purchase. It was a girl child. She was too awe-struck by the glories laid before her to talk; but she managed to point with a fat forefinger to the penny doll she desired. The gesture with which she seized it brought--strangely enough--a smile to the deep-set eyes of the stranger who stood watching her. His face was quite different when he smiled. Lines which had seemed nothing but deep-graven channels for sorrow became paths for tenderness. Outside he heard her break into excited, high-voiced triumph, which was mingled with the chatter of her mates.