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Somebody began a cheer, a formal cheer, a university cheer. A band struck up, oh Lord, "Bonny Blue Flag," again. Hands were touching Longstreet. He went up into the small house and into a small room, the roof closing in over him like the lid on a jar, but even here it was jammed with people, a tiny room no bigger than your kitchen, and all Lee's officers and aides, working, rushing in and out, and even here some people from Richmond. A place cleared for Lee and he sat down in a rocking chair and Longstreet saw him in the light and saw that he was tired. Lee rested a moment, closing his eyes.

There was no place for Longstreet to sit except on the edge of the table, and so he sat there. Taylor pushed by, begging Longstreet's pardon, needing a signature on a letter to someone.

Lee raised a hand. "We'll rest for a moment."

Longstreet saw the old man sag, breathe deeply, his mouth open. Lines of pain around the eyes. He put the gray head down for a moment, then looked up quickly at Longstreet, shook his head slightly.

"A bit tired."

He never said anything like that. Lee never complained.

Longstreet said, "Can I get you something?"

Lee shook his head. Aides were talking loudly about artillery, a message to Richmond. Longstreet thought: no rest here. Lee said, reading his mind, "I'll clear them out in a minute or two." He took another deep breath, almost a gasp, put a hand to his chest, shook his head with regret.

His face was gray and still. He looked up with a vagueness in his eyes.

"It was very close this afternoon."

"Sir?"

"They almost broke. I could feel them breaking. I thought for a moment... I saw our flags go up the hill... I almost thought..."

Longstreet said, "It wasn't that close." But Lee's eyes were gazing by him at a vision of victory. Longstreet said nothing. He rubbed his mouth. Lee eyes strange: so dark and soft. Longstreet could say nothing. In the presence of the Commander the right words would not come.

Lee said, "The attacks were not coordinated. I don't know why. We shall see.

But we almost did it, this day. I could see... an open road to Washington." He closed his eyes, rubbed them. Longstreet felt an extraordinary confusion. He had a moment without confidence, windblown and blasted, vacant as an exploded shell. There was a grandness in Lee that shadowed him, silenced him. You could not preach caution here, not to that face. And then the moment passed and a small rage bloomed, not at Lee but at Longstreet himself. He started to try to speak, but Lee said, "It was reported that General Barksdale was killed."

"Yes, sir."

"And General Semmes."

"Sir."

"And how is it with General Hood?"

"I think he'll live. I've just come from him."

"Praise God. We could not spare General Hood." He was gazing again into nowhere. After a moment he said, almost plaintively, "I've lost Dorsey Pender."

"Yes," Longstreet said. One by one: down the dark road. Don't think on that now.

Lee said, "He would have made a Corps commander, I think." The old man sat looking half asleep.

Longstreet said stiffly, "Sir, there are three Union corps dug in on the high ground in front of me."

Lee nodded. After a moment he said, "So very close. I believe one more push..."

A burst of shouting outside. The band had come closer.

Longstreet said, "Today I lost almost half my strength."

And felt like a traitor for saying it, the truth, the granite truth, felt a smallness, a rage. Lee nodded but did not seem to hear. Longstreet pushed on.

"The way to the right is still open, sir."

Lee looked up slowly, focused, slowly smiled, put out a hand, touched Longstreet's arm.

"Let me think. General."

"We have enough artillery for one more good fight. One more."

"I know." Lee took a breath, sat up. "Let me think on it. But, General, I am very glad to see you well."

Taylor pushed in again. Longstreet reached out, gripped the young man in a metal clasp.

"General Lee needs his rest. I want you to keep some of these people away."

Taylor drew back