“Daniel,” he said brokenly. “Forgive me . . . for everything . . . I have done. A—a wiser father . . . may have done differently. I am not . . . wise.” He rose slowly, painfully, to his feet. “Today is the—the Festival of Freedom.” There was a soft hint of bitterness in his voice. “Today my Daniel is free. . . . I must go. . . . I am very tired. . . . I must lie down.”
