He thought how ten minutes ago - It's the tale of prisoners and booty and slaughter, but the shouting outside had died down a little there had still been equivocation in his heart as he wondered whether the news from the front would be victory or defeat.He was walking down the white-tiled corridor, with the feeling of walking in sunlight. Much had changed in him since that first day. yes, One of them approached with the gin bottle.only ten minutes.He had won the victory over himself. The waiters were turning back to their work. He was not running or cheering.with everything forgiven, his soul white as snow. He was in the public dock, confessing everything, implicating everybody.An armed guard at his back. The long-hoped for bullet was entering his brain.Sitting in a blissful dream, paid no attention as his glass was filled up.

He gazed up at the enormous face. Forty years it had taken him to learn what kind of smile was hidden beneath the dark moustache. O cruel, needless misunderstanding! O stubborn, self-willed exile from the loving breast! Two gin-scented tears trickled down the sides of his nose. But it was all right, everything was all right, the struggle was finished. the final, indispensable, healing change had never happened, until this moment.