f them's surrendered," he was told, "but there's a lot of snipers
still about!"

They could hear desultory firing as they spoke.

"Ah, they'll give in quick enough now," a man said. "Sure, they can't
hold out any longer!"

He hurried back to the city, and when he reached the Club, he saw that
the tri-colour was no longer flying over the College of Surgeons.

THE FOURTEENTH CHAPTER

1

On Sunday morning, he met Lander, who had a military pass, and together
they went to Sackville Street.... There were some who had said that this
was the proudest street in the world. It had little pride now. Where
there had been shops and hotels, there were now heaps of rubble and
calcined bricks. The street was covered with grey ash that was still
hot, and one had to walk warily lest one's feet should be burnt. The
Post Office still stood, but the roof was gone and the inside of it was
empty: a hulk, a disembowelled carcase....

"MacDonagh and Pearse and Connolly have been taken," said Lander. "They
say Connolly's badly wounded...."

"Have you heard anything of ... of John Marsh?"

"Yes. He's dead. They say he was killed soon after the fighting began
... in the street!..."

Henry did not speak. He glanced about him at the ruin and wreck of a
city which, though it had many times filled him with anger, yet filled
him also with love; and for a while he could not see clearly....
Somewhere in this street, John Marsh had been killed. He had died, as he
had desired, for Ireland, and a man can do no more than give his life
for his country ... but what was the good of his dying? It was not
enough that a man should die ... he must also die well and to purpose.
Oh, indeed, John had believed that such a death as this would be a good
death, to much purpose, but it is not the dead who can judge of that ...
it is the living to whom now and forever is the task of judging what the
dead have done.

"It's a pity," said Lander, "that the slums weren't destroyed, too!..."

"Perhaps," Henry answered, "we can build a finer city after this!"

"Perhaps," said Lander dubiously, for Lander knew the ways of men and
had small faith in them.

2

They walked along the quays until they reached the Four Courts, and
while they were standing there, a sickly woman, with a fretful, whining
voice, plucked at Henry's arm.

"Is it over, mister?" she said, and when he nodded his head, she turned
away, exclaiming fervently, "Oh, thanks be to the Hol