"It is so wrong---" he began; but she interrupted him.

"Preaching won't help it any," she said. "I don't want to hear it.
Good-bye."

So she turned and walked away; and Thyrsis stood there, white, and
shuddering, until at last he started and strode off. Clear through
the town he went, and out into the black country beyond, seeing
nothing, caring about nothing. He flung himself down by the
roadside, and lay there moaning for hours: "My God, my God, what
shall I do?"

Section 12. It was nearly morning when he came back and crept
upstairs to his room; and here he sat by the bedside, gazing at the
haggard face in the glass. At such times as this he discovered a
something in his features that filled him with shuddering; he
discovered it in his words, and in the very tone of his voice--the
sins of the fathers were being visited upon the children! What an
old, old story it was to him--this anguish and remorse! These
ecstasies of resolution that vanished like a cloud-wrack--these
protestations and noble sentiments that counted for naught in
conduct! And his was to be the whole heritage of impotence and
futility; he, too, was to struggle and agonize--and to finish with
his foot in the trap!

This idea was like a white-hot goad to him. After such an experience
there would be several months of toil and penance, and of savage
self-immolation. It was hard to punish a man who had so little; but
Thyrsis managed to find ways. For several months at a time he would
go without those kinds of food that he liked; and instead of going