I'm going to South Africa.

I'm going to join some young Irishmen to fight for the Boers and for freedom.' 'You're going out to fight--to fight for the Boers! What is it that's in your head at all, Hyacinth Con-neally?
Tell me now.' Again Hyacinth hesitated.

Was it possible to give utterance to the thoughts and hopes which filled his mind?
Could he tell anyone about the furious fancies of the last few days, or of that weird vision of his father's which lay at the back of what he felt and dreamed?
Could he even speak of the enthusiasm which moved him to devote himself to the cause of freedom and a threatened nationality?
In the presence of a man of the world the very effort to express himself would have acted as some corrosive acid, and stained with patches of absurdity the whole fabric of his dreams.

He looked at Father Moran, and saw the priest's eyes lit with sympathy.

He knew that he had a listener who would not scoff, who might, perhaps, even understand.