The city was wrapped in the same dismal blanket. He wandered about the streets; he visited the Capitol and patrolled miles of the muddy river. He could not see the distant bank, and even the islands in midstream had vanished. He walked out beyond the city limits, and there from a little stone pier looked down into a deep, swirling pool. There was nothing in life, he believed, and nothing in death either. The men and women who wrote the books he read made very little allowance for the future; to them he believed the very conception was ludicrous.
Then Amos realized suddenly to what point he had come. He recoiled in horror from the deep pool and from his own wicked thoughts and rapidly retraced his steps. When he reached the city limits, he left the river road in fear and took to the first parallel street.
It had begun to rain heavily and he had no umbrella. He remembered the cathedral into which he had gone by mistake, and wondering at his earlier feeling of wickedness, he decided to take refuge there from the rain. He felt an intense curiosity; Roman Catholic beliefs were often mentioned in the books which he read. He hurried his steps, and when he reached the church he went in and sat down panting.
At first he experienced only a dull peace. His body was tired, his mind ceased to operate and the mere freedom from thought was comfortable. Gradually a deeper quiet came upon him, induced by the silence and the dim conception of ageless traditions which he had unconsciously gathered. Here as in the Kloster men had found peace; they had crept away and had taken vows and hidden themselves forever from the temptations of the mad world.
He saw a slender youth in a long, loose garment enter the church from behind the altar and kneel down. As he knelt he read from a little book, and sometimes he made a graceful, rapid motion with his hand across forehead and breast. Amos watched hungrily and knelt also, crouching almost to the floor. The young man had a happy face--would that he had courage to ask the nature and the effect of his orisons! He would do anything, follow any one.
But the young priest, having finished his devotions, rose, crossed himself, and went the way he had come. He had to Amos's eyes suddenly a complacent air which produced a reaction. The fierce hunger for life came back; he rose and went out, letting the door slam. He would buy more books. And--poor Amos!--he would do worse than that; he would learn something of the world at first hand. There were theaters and moving-picture houses--to him nothing human was hereafter to be foreign.