By and by the train stopped again, and Jurgis sprang down and ran under the car, and hid himself upon the truck.  Here he sat, and when the train started again, he fought a battle with his soul.  He gripped his hands and set his teeth together—­he had not wept, and he would not—­not a tear!  It was past and over, and he was done with it—­he would fling it off his shoulders, be free of it, the whole business, that night.  It should go like a black, hateful nightmare, and in the morning he would be a new man.  And every time that a thought of it assailed him—­a tender memory, a trace of a tear—­he rose up, cursing with rage, and pounded it down.

He was fighting for his life; he gnashed his teeth together in his desperation.  He had been a fool, a fool!  He had wasted his life, he had wrecked himself, with his accursed weakness; and now he was done with it—­he would tear it out of him, root and branch!  There should be no more tears and no more tenderness; he had had enough of them—­they had sold him into slavery!  Now he was going to be free, to tear off his shackles, to rise up and fight.  He was glad that the end had come—­it had to come some time, and it was just as well now.  This was no world for women and children, and the sooner they got out of it the better for them.  Whatever Antanas might suffer where he was, he could suffer no more than he would have had he stayed upon earth.  And meantime his father had thought the last thought about him that he meant to; he was going to think of himself, he was going to fight for himself, against the world that had baffled him and tortured him!

So he went on, tearing up all the flowers from the garden of his soul, and setting his heel upon them.  The train thundered deafeningly, and a storm of dust blew in his face; but though it stopped now and then through the night, he clung where he was—­he would cling there until he was driven off, for every mile that he got from Packingtown meant another load from his mind.

Whenever the cars stopped a warm breeze blew upon him, a breeze laden with the perfume of fresh fields, of honeysuckle and clover.  He snuffed it, and it made his heart beat wildly—­he was out in the country again!  He was going to live in the country!  When the dawn came he was peering out with hungry eyes, getting glimpses of meadows and woods and rivers.  At last he could stand it no longer, and when the train stopped again he crawled out.  Upon the top of the car was a brakeman, who shook his fist and swore; Jurgis waved his hand derisively, and started across the country.

Only think that he had been a countryman all his life; and for three long years he had never seen a country sight nor heard a country sound!  Excepting for that one walk when he left jail, when he was too much worried to notice anything, and for a few times that he had rested in the city parks in the winter time when he was out of work, he had literally never seen a tree!  And now he felt like a bird lifted up and borne away upon a gale; he stopped and stared at each new sight of wonder—­at a herd of cows, and a meadow full of daisies, at hedgerows set thick with June roses, at little birds singing in the trees.