Morning’s mind was like the beleaguered city—desperate with waiting and potential disorder, outwardly arrogant, afraid in secret.... Duke Fallows was thinking of a woman, as he visioned his lost paradise. The younger man left the lamp-light to go to him, and heard as he leaned over the cot:
“... Like a lost traveler to the single point of light, John, I shall go to her. Eve—the one red light—I will glow red in the desire of her. She is my creation. Out of the desire of my strength she was created. As they have mastered me in the flesh, this creation of mine shall master me afterward—with red perpetual mastery.”
Lowenkampf came in. They saw by his eyes that he was more than ever drawn, in the tension and heart-hunger. He always brought his intimacies to the Americans. A letter had reached him from Europe in the morning, but the army had given him no time to think until now. It was not the letter, but something in it, that reminded him of a story. So he brought his brandy and the memory:
“... It was two or three evenings before I left Petersburg to come here. I had followed him about—my little son who is five years. I had followed him about the house all day. Every little while at some door, or through some curtain—I would see the mother smiling at us. It was new to me—for I had been seldom home in the day-time—this playing with one’s little son through the long day. But God, I knew I was no longer a soldier. I think the little mother knew. She is braver than I. She was the soldier—for not a tear did I see all that day.... And that night I lay down with my little son to talk until he fell asleep. It was dark in the room, but light was in the hall-way and the door open.... You see, he is just five—and very pure and fresh.”
Fallows sat up. He was startling in the shadow.
“... For a long time my little man stirred and talked—of riding horses, when his legs were a little longer, and of many things to do. He would be a soldier, of course. God pity the little thought. We would ride together soon—not in front of my saddle, but on a pony of his own—one that would keep up. I was to take him out to swim ... and we would walk in the country to see the trees and animals.... My heart ached for love of him—and I, the soldier, wished there were no Asia in this world, no Asia, nor any war or torment.... He had seen a gray pony which he liked, because it had put its head down, as if to listen. It didn’t wear any straps nor saddle, but came close, as one knowing a friend, and put its head down—thus the child was speaking to me.
“And I heard her step in the hall—the light, quick step. Her figure came into the light of the door-way. She looked intently through the shadows where we lay, her eyelids lifted, and a smile on her lips. Our little son saw her and this is what he said so drowsily:
“‘We are talking about what we will do—when we get to be men.’”
Fallows broke this silence: