"It's too bad," Gordon said.
"It's hell," Alexander groaned. "Let's scatter, sir! It's the only way.
Issue the order at once—"
A sentinel saluted.
"Colonel Babcock, aide to General U.S. Grant, has come for your answer, sir."
All eyes were fixed on Lee.
"Tell Babcock I'll see him in a moment."
An ominous silence fell. Lee lifted his head and spoke firmly.
"We've played our parts, gentlemen, in a hopeless tragedy, pitiful, terrible. At least eight hundred thousand of our noblest sons are dead and mangled. A million more will die of poverty and disease. Every issue could have been settled and better settled without the loss of a drop of blood. The slaves are freed by an accident. An accident of war's necessity—not on principle. The manner of their sudden emancipation, unless they are removed, will bring a calamity more appalling than the war itself. It must create a Race Problem destined to grow each day more threatening and insoluble. Yet if I had to live it all over again I could only do exactly what I have done—"
He paused.
"And now I'll go at once to General Grant."