ew.
He began to pity himself acutely. He was ill used. He was trodden
beneath the feet of an iron injustice. He had proceeded with wisdom
and from the most righteous motives under heaven's blue only to be
frustrated by hateful circumstances.
A dull, animal-like rebellion against his fellows, war in the abstract,
and fate grew within him. He shambled along with bowed head, his brain
in a tumult of agony and despair. When he looked loweringly up,
quivering at each sound, his eyes had the expression of those of a
criminal who thinks his guilt little and his punishment great, and
knows that he can find no words.
He went from the fields into a thick woods, as if resolved to bury
himself. He wished to get out of hearing of the crackling shots which
were to him like voices.
The ground was cluttered with vines and bushes, and the trees grew
close and spread out like bouquets. He was obliged to force his way
with much noise. The creepers, catching against his legs, cried out
harshly as their sprays were torn from the barks of trees. The
swishing saplings tried to make known his presence to the world. He
could not conciliate the forest. As he made his way, it was always
calling out protestations. When he separated embraces of trees and
vines the disturbed foliages waved their arms and turned their face
leaves toward him. He dreaded lest these noisy motions and cries
should bring men to look at him. So he went far, seeking dark and
intricate places.
After a time the sound of musketry grew faint and the cannon boomed in
the distance. The sun, suddenly apparent, blazed among the trees. The
insects were making rhythmical noises. They seemed to be grinding
their teeth in unison. A woodpecker stuck his impudent head around the
side of a tree. A bird flew on lighthearted wing.
Off was the rumble of death. It seemed now that Nature had no ears.
This landscape gave him assurance. A fair field holding life. It was
the religion of peace. It would die if its timid eyes were compelled
to see blood. He conceived Nature to be a woman with a deep aversion
to tragedy.
He threw a pine cone at a jovial squirrel, and he ran with chattering
fear. High in a treetop he stopped, and, poking his head cautiously
from behind a branch, looked down with an air of trepidation.
The youth felt triumphant at this exhibition. There was the law, he
said. Nature had given him a sign. The squirrel, immediately upon
re
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