"To despise myself--to be despised by all the world! To
be browbeaten, and insulted, and dragged about--"
The old man paused, choking with excess of emotion. "Look at me!" he
cried, with sudden vehemence. "Look at me! You think that I am a
man, a person of influence in the community, the head of a great
institution in which thousands of people have faith. But I am
nothing of the kind. I am a puppet--I am a sham--I am a disgrace to
myself and to the name I bear!"
And suddenly he clasped his hands over his face, and bowed his head,
so that Montague should not see his grief.
There was a long silence. Montague was dumb with horror. He felt
that his mere presence was an outrage.
Finally the General looked up again. He clenched his hand, and
mastered himself.
"I have chosen my part," he said. "I must play it through. What I
feel about it makes no difference."
Montague again said nothing.
"I have no right to inflict my grief upon you," the General
continued. "I have no right to try to excuse myself. There is no
turning back now.
Pages:
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291