All her love, all her being during these years had been but one secret prayer: "Hold me, do not break me, do not desert me!"
He had been deaf. He had given her a stone for bread, irony for love, cold doubt for warm, human trust! And in the end he had even despised her because she had striven, with touching faith, to form herself according to his example.
It was all fatally clear—now.
Her contradictions, her lack of feeling, her haughty scepticism—all that had chilled and estranged him had been but a dutiful reflection of his own being.
Need he be surprised that the last remnant of her lost and corrupted youth rose in impassioned rebellion against him and, thinking to save itself, hurled itself to destruction?
He gave one farewell glance to the dark, silent house—the grave of the fairest hopes of all his life. Then he set out upon long, dreary, aimless wandering through the endless, nocturnal streets.
Like shadows the shapes of night glided by him.
Shy harlots—loud roysterers—benzin flames—more harlots—and here and there one lost in thought even as he.
An evil odour, as of singed horses' hoofs, floated over the city…..
The dust whirled under the street-cleaning machines.
The world grew silent. He was left almost alone…..