Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [107]
Chamberlain waited, watching the kind old face, then realized he was about to be fired, felt a sudden lump in his stomach.
“Mr. Chamberlain, I would like you to consider a leave of absence. Have you ever been to Europe?”
“Europe? No, sir, I haven’t.”
“Well, this might be the perfect time. Take a leave of absence. We’ll grant you two years. Travel, study, visit the great universities, the museums, the cathedrals, immerse yourself in the culture. You have a great talent for languages, so use it. It should be easy for you . . . and your family. It will be the opportunity of a lifetime for them. When it’s over, come back here, to your Chair, and I am confident your attitude will have tempered. The war will certainly be over, and all this . . . disruption will be gone.”
“Two years?”
“That should be plenty of time. It’s an opportunity, Mr. Chamberlain. A rare opportunity.”
“I would like to think about it, if you don’t mind, discuss it with my wife.”
“Of course, I’m not looking for an answer right now.”
“Thank you, sir.” He stood, felt a fog in his brain, a sudden numbness, his mind flooded with the idea of leaving, and . . . Europe . . . and he nodded, went slowly to the door.
Woods said to him, “It’s the opportunity of a lifetime!”
HE HAD given her an absurd excuse, felt guilty immediately, but she would not understand, and there would be time for explanations later.
Augusta was a short coach ride from Brunswick, and he had wired a request, had received a positive response, and so today he would see the governor.
The coach reached the city, and he saw immediately the government buildings, the state capitol. There was little about the town to impress, but he felt impressed anyway, had never dealt with a seat of power, did not consider that these were just politicians, but the men who were close to it all, who had the facts, had up-to-date knowledge of the war and made their decisions accordingly. He felt childlike, excited.
He had excused himself from his classes for a couple of days, and Woods, and the rest, did not know where he was. It was assumed he had taken some time to be with his family, to weigh the great decision of accepting the leave. He told Fannie that he had to attend a meeting in Augusta, but did not mention the governor, said something that he could not even remember, some fictitious name of an academic conference. It had been a lie, and he knew it, and she had said nothing. He thought, She knows. But then, No, she knows you the same way they all know you, you’re the bright young scholar, the man with the future firmly planted in academics, and they have no idea what it is doing to you.
The coach hit a pothole, lurched through the rough stone streets of the capital. He watched the unfamiliar scenes roll past, shops and bakeries and offices. She would never understand this, he thought, and none of them will listen, they will tell me I’m a fool, a college professor who knows nothing of life beyond academics, who has no business anywhere close to the war.
The coach slowed, pulled into the depot, and he stepped down, could still see the top of the capitol building, high above the rows of shops and houses, and he moved quickly in that direction. He looked at his watch: one-thirty. He was early, had time, but did not slow down, would sit and wait for hours if he had to. He paid little attention to the people, the storefronts, kept his eyes on the capitol, then finally he turned a corner and saw the entire building, perched in the center of a square, waiting for him to arrive.
“SIR, GOVERNOR Washburn can see you now.”
He was startled, had let his head fall, sleepily, and he snapped awake, stood, saw the young man holding the door for him, and he tried to say something,