face I knew, in fact had always known. It was simply the face my conductress had not let me see, (he face of the person I had doomed to die: myself.
I lifted my hand and this time I let it touch the weeks growth of beard matting my face. Well, I thought, I had given the crowd an exciting half hour.
I lifted my eyes and there on the other side of the body was &e dirty-sleeved man. It was the same beard- matted face as that on the ground between us, the same beard-matted face as my own.
On the forehead was a black S that looked permanent.
He was staring at my face—and then at my forehead— with a surprise* and then a horror, that I knew my own features were registering too as I stared at him. A hand touched my shoulder.
My conductress bad told me that you never know whether the side into which you are born or reborn is 'right' or 'good.' Now, as I turned and saw the shim- mering silver man-high Door behind me, and her hand vanishing into it, and as I stepped through, past a rim of velvet blackness and stars, I clung to that memory, for I knew that I would be fighting on both sides forever.
