across the shadows of round hills
in the dusk. How lonely, sad, intelligible, and yet mystic the night and
the scene!

What came to him then was revealing, uplifting--a source of strength to
go on. He was not to blame for what had happened; he could not change
the future. He had a choice between playing the part of a man or that of
a coward, and he had to choose the former. There seemed to be a spirit
beside him--the spirit of his mother or of some one who loved him and
who would have him be true to an ideal, and, if needful, die for it. No
night in all his life before had been like this one. The dreaming hills
with their precious rustling wheat meant more than even a spirit could
tell. Where had the wheat come from that had seeded these fields? Whence
the first and original seeds, and where were the sowers? Back in the
ages! The stars, the night, the dark blue of heaven hid the secret in
their impenetrableness. Beyond them surely was the answer, and perhaps
peace.

Material things--life, success--such as had inspired Kurt Dorn, on this
calm night lost their significance and were seen clearly. They could not
last. But the wheat there, the hills, the stars--they would go on with
their task. Passion was the dominant side of a man declaring itself, and
that was a matter of inheritance. But self-sacrifice, with its mercy,
its succor, its seed like the wheat, was as infinite as the stars. He
had long made up his mind, yet that had not given him absolute
restraint. The world was full of little men, but he refused to stay
little. This war that had come between him and his father had been bred
of the fumes of self-centered minds, turned with an infantile fatality
to greedy desires. His poor old blinded father could be excused and
forgiven. There were other old men, sick, crippled, idle, who must
suffer pain, but whose pain could be lightened. There were babies,
children, women, who must suffer for the sins of men, but that suffering
need no longer be, if men became honest and true.

His sudden up-flashing love had a few hours back seemed a calamity. But
out there beside the whispering wheat, under the passionless stars, in
the dreaming night, it had turned into a blessing. He asked nothing but
to serve. To serve her, his country, his future! All at once he who had
always yearned for something unattainable had greatness thrust upon him.
His tragical situation had evoked a spirit from the gods.

To kiss that blue-eyed girl's