“In spite of his remorse, Mr Todhunter could not help feeling a certain selfish relief. He had not wanted to kill Fischmann. He had not wanted to kill anyone, however unpleasant. He was not of the stuff of which killers are made. Mr Todhunter realised all that now. He knew he had only been deceiving himself. It was a depressing reflection, and yet there were compensations. Peace was what Mr Todhunter really wanted for himself after all, and now he could have it. He had made his gesture, and its ...bluff had been called. Good. As his relief grew Mr Todhunter even abandoned with equanimity the Italian and German nations to their fates and prepared for a peaceful passing. Yet for all that, life seemed now excessively flat. It was himself that Mr Todhunter had been bluffing. It was he, and probably no one else, who had once foolishly imagined himself capable of great things. And after all, when one has wound oneself up (as one imagines) to tremendous, magnificent action, it is bound to have a depressing effect to find the mainspring under one suddenly turn, as it were, into a piece of chewed string.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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