1 files changed, 11754 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/30732-8.txt b/30732-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e4b78db
--- /dev/null
+++ b/30732-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11754 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Son of His Mother, by Clara Viebig,
+Translated by H. Raahauge
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Son of His Mother
+
+
+Author: Clara Viebig
+
+
+
+Release Date: December 22, 2009  [eBook #30732]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON OF HIS MOTHER***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Charles Bowen from page images generously made
+available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
+(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
+
+
+
+Note: Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      http://www.archive.org/details/sonofhismother00viebiala
+
+
+
+
+
+THE SON OF HIS MOTHER
+
+by
+
+CLARA VIEBIG
+
+Authorised Translation by H. Raahauge
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+London: John Lane The Bodley Head
+New York:  John  Lane  Company
+Toronto: Bell & Cockburn  MCMXIII
+
+The Anchor Press, Ltd., Tiptree Essex
+
+
+
+
+
+
+BOOK I
+
+
+
+THE SON OF HIS MOTHER
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+The husband and wife were of a literary turn of mind, and as they
+had the money to cultivate their artistic tastes he wrote a little and
+she painted. They also played and sang duets together, at least they
+had done so when they were first married; now they went to concerts and
+the opera more frequently instead. They were liked wherever they went,
+they had friends, they were called "charming people," and still
+something was wanting to complete their happiness--they had no
+children.
+
+And they would probably not have any now, as they had been married
+for some time, and the likelihood of children being born to them was
+very remote.
+
+No doubt he sighed and knit his brow in unguarded moments when he
+sat at his desk in his office, but especially when he passed through
+the villages in the Brandenburg March on the rides he took in the more
+distant environs of Berlin--partly for his health, partly because he
+still retained the liking for riding from the time he was in the
+cavalry--and saw swarms of little flaxen-haired children romping on the
+sandy roads. However, he did not let his wife perceive that he missed
+something, for he loved her.
+
+But she could not control herself in the same manner. The longer she
+was married the more nervous she became. At times she felt irritated
+with her husband for no reason. She persistently turned her eyes away
+from the announcement of births in the newspapers with a certain
+shrinking, and, if her glance happened once in a way to fall on one in
+which happy parents notified the birth of a son, she put the paper
+aside hastily.
+
+In former years Käte Schlieben had knitted, crocheted, embroidered
+and sewn all sorts of pretty little children's garments--she used to be
+quite famous for the daintiness of her little baby jackets trimmed with
+blue and pink ribbons, all her newly married acquaintances would ask
+her for the wonderful little things--but now she had finally given up
+that sort of work. She had given up hope. What good did it do her to
+put her forefingers into the tiny sleeves of a baby's first jacket,
+and, holding it out in front of her, gaze at it a long, long time with
+dreamy eyes? It only tortured her.
+
+And she felt the torture twice as much in those grey days that
+suddenly put in an appearance without any reason, that creep in
+silently even in the midst of sunshine. On those occasions she would
+lie on the couch in her room that was furnished with such exquisite
+taste--really artistically--and close her eyes tightly. And then all at
+once a shout, clear, shrill, triumphant, like the cry of a swallow on
+the wing, would ascend from the street, from the promenade under the
+chestnut-trees. She stopped her ears when she heard that cry, which
+penetrated further than any other tone, which soared up into the ether
+as swiftly as an arrow, and cradled itself up there blissfully. She
+could not bear to hear anything like that--she was becoming morbid.
+
+Alas, when she and her husband grew old, with minds no longer so
+receptive and too weary to seek incitement in the world, who would
+bring it to them in their home? Who would bring them anything of what
+was going on outside? What youth with his freshness, with the
+joyousness that envelops those of twenty like a dainty garment,
+that beams from smooth brows like warmth and sunshine, would give them
+back a breath of their youth, which had already disappeared in
+accordance with the laws of Time? Who would wax enthusiastic at the
+things that had once made them enthusiastic, and which they would enjoy
+once more as though they were new for them too? Who would fill the
+house and garden with his laughter, with that careless laughter that is
+so infectious? Who would kiss them with warm lips, and make them happy
+by his tenderness? Who would carry them on his wings with him, so that
+they did not feel they were weary?
+
+Alas, there is no second youth for those who are childless. Nobody
+would come into the inheritance of delight in what was beautiful, of
+taste for what was beautiful, of enthusiasm for art and artists which
+they would leave behind them. Nobody would guard reverently all those
+hundreds of things and nicknacks she had gathered together so
+tastefully in her house with the delight of a collector. And nobody
+would, alas, hold the hand that was fast growing cold with loving
+hands, in that last difficult hour which all dread, and cry: "Father,
+Mother, don't go! Not yet!" Oh, God, such loving hands would not close
+their eyes----
+
+When Paul Schlieben used to come home from his office in those days
+he was co-partner in a large business that his grandfather had founded
+and his father raised to a high position--he often found his wife's
+sweet face stained with tears, her delicate complexion marred by
+constant weeping. And her mouth only forced itself to smile, and in her
+beautiful brown eyes there lurked a certain melancholy.
+
+The doctor shrugged his shoulders. The lady was suffering from
+nerves, that was what was the matter with her. She had too much
+time for brooding, she was left to herself too much.
+
+In order to alter this, her anxious husband withdrew from the
+business for an indefinite period. His partners could get on just as
+well without him. The doctor was right, he must devote himself more to
+his wife; they were both so lonely, so entirely dependent on each
+other.
+
+It was decided they should travel; there was no reason whatever why
+they should remain at home. The beautiful house was given up, their
+furniture, all their costly things were stored. If they cared to do so
+they could remain away for years, get impressions, amuse themselves.
+Käte would paint landscapes in beautiful countries, and he--well, he
+could easily find compensation in writing, should he miss his usual
+work.
+
+They went to Italy and Corsica--still further, to Egypt and Greece.
+They saw the Highlands, Sweden and Norway, very many beautiful
+places.
+
+Käte pressed her husband's hand gratefully. Her susceptible mind
+waxed enthusiastic, and her talent for painting, which was by no means
+insignificant, felt powerfully stimulated all at once. How splendid to
+be able to paint, to keep hold of all that glow of colour, that
+wonderful effect of tone that revealed itself to her delighted eyes on
+her canvas.
+
+She was so eager that she went out with her painting materials in
+the morning, whether it was at Capri, on the shores of the blue
+Bosphorus, in the yellow sand of the desert, facing the precipitous
+pinnacles in the Fjords, or in the rose gardens of the Riviera. Her
+delicate face got sunburnt; she no longer even paid any attention to
+her hands, which she used to take such care of. The ardent longing to
+manifest herself had seized hold of her. Thank God, she could
+create something now. The miserable feeling of a useless life did not
+exist any longer, nor the torturing knowledge: your life ceases the
+moment your eyes close, there is nothing of you that will survive you.
+Now she would at least leave something behind that she had produced,
+even if it were only a picture. Her paintings increased in number;
+quite a quantity of rolls of canvas were dragged about now wherever
+they went.
+
+At first Paul Schlieben was very pleased to see his wife so
+enthusiastic. He politely carried her camp-stool and easel for her, and
+never lost patience when he remained for hours and hours near her
+whilst she worked. He lay in the scanty shadow of a palm-tree, and used
+to follow the movements of her brush over the top of his book. How
+fortunate that her art gave her so much satisfaction. Even though it
+was a little fatiguing for him to lie about doing nothing he must not
+say anything, no, he must not, for he had nothing to offer her as a
+compensation, nothing whatever. And he sighed. It was the same sigh
+that had escaped him when the numerous flaxen-haired little children
+were playing about on the sandy roads in the Brandenburg March, the
+same sigh which Sundays drew from him, when he used to see all
+the proletariat of the town--man and wife and children, children,
+children--wandering to the Zoo. Yes, he was right--he passed his hand a
+little nervously across his forehead--that writer was right--now, who
+could it be?--who had once said somewhere: "Why does a man marry? Only
+to have children, heirs of his body, of his blood. Children to whom he
+can pass on the wishes and hopes that are in him and also the
+achievements; children who are descended from him like shoots from a
+tree, children who enable a man to live eternally." That was the only
+way in which life after death could be understood--life eternal.
+The resurrection of the body, which the Church promises, was to be
+interpreted as the renewal of one's own personality in the coming
+generations. Oh, there was something great, something indescribably
+comforting in such a survival.
+
+"Are you speculating about something?" asked his wife. She had
+looked up from her easel for a moment.
+
+"Eh? What? Did you say anything, darling?" The man started up in a
+fright, as one who has been straying along forbidden paths.
+
+She laughed at his absent-mindedness; it was getting worse and
+worse. But what was he thinking of? Business?--surely not. But perhaps
+he wanted to write a novel, a tale? Why should he not try his hand at
+that for once in a way? That was something quite different from sending
+short chatty accounts of one's journey to one of the papers. And of
+course he would be able to do it. People who had not half the
+education, not half the knowledge, not half the aesthetic refinement of
+feeling he had wrote quite readable books.
+
+She talked brightly and persuasively to him, but he shook his head
+with a certain resignation: nonsense, neither novels nor any other kind
+of writing. And he thought to himself: it is always said that a piece
+of work is like a child--that is to say, only a truly great piece of
+work, of course. Was the work he and his wife created work in that
+sense? Work that would exist eternally? He suddenly found things to
+censure severely in her picture, which he had politely admired only the
+day before.
+
+She got quite frightened about it. Why was he so irritable to-day?
+Was he going to develop nerves at the finish? Yes, it was evident, the
+warm air of the south did not suit him, he had lost his briskness,
+looked so tired. There was nothing for it, her husband was more
+to her than her picture, she would leave off her painting at once.
+
+And that was what happened. They went away, travelled from one place
+to another, from one hotel to another, along the lakes, over the
+frontier, until they made a somewhat longer stay high up among the Alps
+in Switzerland.
+
+Instead of lying under a palm-tree he lay in the shadow of a
+fir--now his wife was painting--and followed the movements of her brush
+with his eyes over the top of his open book.
+
+She was busily painting, for she had discovered a delightful
+subject. That green alpine meadow, with its wealth of flowers as
+variegated as they could possibly be and the backs of the brown cows
+with the sun shining on them, was as full of charm as the Garden of
+Eden on the first day of creation. In her eagerness to see she had
+pushed her broad-brimmed hat back, and the warm summer sun was burning
+little golden spots on her delicate cheeks and the narrow bridge of her
+finely shaped nose. She held the brush that she had dipped into the
+green on her palette up against the green of the meadow in order to
+compare the two, and blinked with half-closed eyes to see if she had
+got the colour right.
+
+At that moment a sound made her start--it was half a growl of
+displeasure at the disturbance, half a murmur of approval. Her husband
+had risen and was looking at a couple of children who had approached
+them noiselessly. They were offering rhododendrons for sale, the girl
+had a small basket full of them, the boy was carrying his nosegay in
+his hand.
+
+What exceedingly pretty creatures they were, the girl so blue-eyed
+and gentle, the boy a regular little scamp. The woman's heart swelled.
+She bought all the rhododendrons from them, even gave them more
+than they asked for them.
+
+That was a stroke of great luck for the little Swiss boy and
+girl--just think, to get more than they had asked for. They blushed
+with happiness, and when the strange lady asked them questions in a
+kind voice, they commenced to chatter ingenuously.
+
+She would have to paint _those_ children, they were really too
+delightful, they were a thousand times more beautiful than the most
+beautiful landscape.
+
+Paul Schlieben looked on with a strange uneasiness whilst his wife
+painted the children, first the big girl and then the small boy. How
+intently she gazed at the boy's round face. Her eyes were brilliant,
+she never seemed to be tired, and only paused when the children grew
+impatient. All her thoughts turned on the painting. Would the children
+come again that day? Was the light good? Surely there would not be a
+storm to prevent the children from coming? Nothing else was of any
+interest to her. She displayed great zeal. And still the pictures
+turned out bad; the features were like theirs, but there was no trace
+of the child-mind in them. He saw it clearly: those who are childless
+cannot paint children.
+
+Poor woman! He looked on at her efforts with a feeling of deep
+compassion. Was not her face becoming soft like a mother's, lovely and
+round when she bent down to the children? The Madonna type--and still
+this woman had been denied children.
+
+No, he could not look on at it any longer, it made him ill. The man
+bade the children go home in a gruff voice. The pictures were ready,
+what was the good of touching them up any more? That did not make them
+any better, on the contrary.
+
+That evening Käte cried as she used to cry at home. And she
+was angry with her husband. Why did he not let her have that pleasure?
+Why did he all at once say they were to leave? She did not understand
+him. Were the children not sweet, delightful? Was it because they
+disturbed him?
+
+"Yes," was all he said. There was a hard dry sound in his voice--a
+"yes" that came with such difficulty--and she raised her head from the
+handkerchief in which she had buried it and looked across at him. He
+was standing at the window in the carpeted room of the hotel, his hands
+resting on the window-ledge, his forehead pressed against the pane. He
+was gazing silently at the vast landscape before him, in which the
+mountaintops covered with snow that glowed in the radiance of the
+setting sun spoke to him of immortality. How he pressed his lips
+together, how nervously his moustache trembled.
+
+She crept up to him and laid her head on his shoulder. "What is the
+matter with you?" she asked him softly. "Do you miss your work--yes,
+it's your work, isn't it? I was afraid of that. You are getting tired
+of this, you must be doing something again. I promise you I'll be
+reasonable--never complain any more--only stop here a little longer,
+only three weeks longer--two weeks."
+
+He remained silent.
+
+"Only ten--eight--six days more. Not even that?" she said, bitterly
+disappointed, for he had shaken his head. She wound her arms round his
+neck. "Only five more--four--three days, please. Why not? Those few
+days, please only three days more." She positively haggled for each
+day. "Oh, then at least two days more."
+
+She sobbed aloud, her arms fell from his neck--he must allow her two
+days.
+
+Her voice cut him to the heart. He had never heard her beg
+like that before, but he made a stand against the feeling of yielding
+that was creeping over him. Only no sentimentality. It was better to go
+away from there quickly, much better for her.
+
+"We're going away to-morrow."
+
+And as she looked at him with wide-open horror-struck eyes and
+pallid cheeks, the words escaped from his lips although he had not
+intended saying them, drawn from him by a bitterness that he could not
+master any longer:
+
+"They are not yours!"
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+And they went away.
+
+But it seemed to the woman as though every joy had disappeared with
+the emerald green meadow in the Alps, in which she had painted the
+lovely children. There was the same old nervous twitch in her face, the
+corners of her mouth drooped slightly and she cried very easily. Paul
+Schlieben watched his wife with positive dismay. Oh dear, had it all
+been in vain, the giving up of his work, all this travelling about
+without making any plans that was so fatiguing? Had the old melancholy
+frame of mind taken possession of her again?
+
+When he saw her sitting there so disinclined to exert herself, her
+hands lying idle in her lap, a feeling akin to fury came over him. Why
+did she not do something? Why did she not paint? That confounded meadow
+in the Alps was surely not the only place where she could work. Was it
+not beautiful here as well?
+
+They had settled down in the Black Forest. But it was in vain that
+he hoped from day to day that one of the quiet green wooded valleys or
+one of the nut-brown maidens of the Black Forest with her cherry-red
+hat and enormous red umbrella, as Vautier has painted them, would tempt
+her to bring out her painting materials. She felt no inclination--nay,
+she had positively a kind of dread of touching her brushes again.
+
+He reproached himself bitterly in secret. Would it not have been
+better to have left her that pleasure and not have interfered?
+Still--the thing would have had to end some time, and the longer it had
+lasted the more difficult the separation would have been. But he had
+made up his mind about one thing, they would return to Berlin again
+late in the autumn. With the best will in the world he would not be
+able to stand it any longer. He was heartily tired of this wandering
+from hotel to hotel, this lounging about the world with nothing to show
+for it but an occasional short article for the papers, a chatty account
+of a journey to some corner of the earth of which people knew but
+little. He longed for a home of his own again, and felt a great desire
+to return to his business, which he had often looked upon as a fetter
+and so prosaic whilst he was in it. But Käte! When he thought of her
+again spending many hours alone at home, with no interests beyond
+herself and her reading for in her state of hypersensitiveness she
+found little pleasure in associating with other women--a feeling of
+hopelessness came over him. Then there would be the same sad eyes
+again, the same melancholy smile, the old irritable moods from which
+the whole house used to suffer, herself the most.
+
+And he subjected himself to an examination as though blaming himself
+for it. He passed his whole life in review: had he committed any crime
+that no son had been given to him, no daughter? Ah, if only Käte had a
+child everything would be right. Then she would have quite enough to
+do, would be entirely taken up with the little creature round which the
+love of parents, full of hope and entitled to hope, revolves in an
+ever-renewed circle.
+
+Both husband and wife were torturing themselves, for the woman's
+thoughts especially always ended at that one point. Now that
+she had been separated from those dear children, from the, alas, much
+too short happiness she had experienced that summer, it seemed to have
+become quite clear to her what she missed--for had it not only weighed
+on her like a painful suspicion before? But now, now the terrible
+unvarnished truth was there: everything people otherwise call
+"happiness" in this world is nothing compared to a child's kiss, to its
+smile, to its nestling in its mother's lap.
+
+She had always given the children in the meadow a tender kiss when
+they came and went, now she longed for those kisses. Her husband's kiss
+did not replace them; she would soon have been married fifteen years,
+_his_ kiss was no longer a sensation, it had become a habit. But a kiss
+from a child's lips, that are so fresh, so untouched, so timid and yet
+so confiding, was something quite new to her, something, exceedingly
+sweet. A feeling of happiness had flowed through her soul on those
+occasions as well as the quite physical pleasure of being able to bury
+her mouth in those delicately soft and yet so firm cheeks, which health
+and youth had covered with a soft down like that on the cheeks of a
+peach. Her thoughts always wandered back to that meadow in the Alps,
+full of longing. And this longing of hers that was never stilled
+magnified what had happened, and surrounded the figures that had
+appeared in her life for so short a time with the whole halo of tender
+memories. Her idle thoughts spun long threads. As she longed for those
+little ones so they would also be longing for her, they would wander
+across the meadow weeping, and the large present of money she had left
+behind for each of them with the proprietor of the hotel--she had been
+obliged to leave without saying good-bye to them--would not console
+them; they would stand outside the door and cast their eyes up
+to the windows from which their friend so often had waved to them. No,
+she could not forgive Paul for showing so little comprehension of her
+feelings.
+
+The stay in the Black Forest, whose velvety slopes reminded them too
+much of the Swiss meadows and from whose points of view you could look
+over to the Alps on a clear day, became a torture to both the man and
+woman. They felt they must get away; the dark firs, the immense green
+forest became too monotonous for them. Should they not try some seaside
+resort for once? The sea is ever new. And it was also just the season
+for the seaside. The wind blew already over the stubble in the fields,
+as they drove down to the plain.
+
+They chose a Belgian watering-place, one in which the visitors dress
+a great deal, and in which quite a cosmopolitan set of people offer
+something new to the eye every day. They both felt it, they had
+remained much too long in mountain solitudes.
+
+During the first days the gay doings amused them, but then Paul and
+his wife, between whom something like a barrier had tried to push
+itself lately, both agreed all at once: this sauntering up and down of
+men who looked like fools, of women who if they did not belong to the
+demi-monde successfully imitated it, was not for them. Let them only
+get away.
+
+The man proposed they should give up travelling entirely and return
+to Berlin a little earlier, but Käte would not listen to it. She had a
+secret dread of Berlin--oh, would she have to go back to her old
+life again? So far she had never asked herself what she had really
+expected from these long months of travel; but she had hoped for
+something--certainly. What?
+
+Oh dear, now she would be so much alone again, and there was
+nothing, nothing that really filled her life entirely.
+
+No, she was not able to return to Berlin yet. She told her husband
+that she felt she had not quite recovered yet--she was certainly
+anæmic, she was suffering from poorness of blood. She ought to have
+gone to Schwalbach, Franzensbad or some other iron springs long
+ago--who knows, perhaps many things would be different then.
+
+He was not impatient--at least he did not show it--for he was moved
+with a deep compassion for her. Of course she should go to some iron
+springs; they ought to have tried them long ago, have made a point of
+it.
+
+The Belgian doctor sent them to the well-known baths at Spa.
+
+They arrived there full of hope. In her the hope was quite genuine.
+"You will see," she said to her husband in a brighter voice, "this will
+do me good. I have a vague feeling--no, I really feel quite sure that
+something good will happen to us here."
+
+And he hoped so too. He forced himself to hope in order to please
+her. Oh, it would be enough, quite enough if the characteristics of the
+landscape won so much interest from her that she took up her painting
+again, which she had neglected entirely. How pleased he would be at
+even that. If her former zeal for art showed itself again, that was a
+thousand times more health-bringing than the strongest iron springs at
+Spa.
+
+The heather was in bloom, the whole plateau was red, the purple sun
+set in a mass of purple.
+
+It happened as he had hoped, that is to say, she did not begin to
+paint, but she made expeditions into the Ardennes and the Eifel with
+him on foot and in a carriage, and enjoyed them. The Venn had bewitched
+her. In her light-coloured dress she stood like a small speck
+of light in the immense seriousness of the landscape, protected her
+eyes with her hand from the view of the sun, which is so open there, so
+unobstructed either by tree or mountain, and took deep breaths of the
+sharp clear air that has not yet been vitiated by any smoke from human
+dwellings, hardly by human breath. Around her the Venn blossomed like a
+carpet of one colour, dark, calm, refreshing and beneficial to the eye;
+it was only here and there that the blue gentian and the white
+quivering flock of the cotton-grass were seen to raise their heads
+among the heather.
+
+"Oh, how beautiful!" She said it with deep feeling. The melancholy
+of the landscape flattered her mood. There was no gaudy tone there that
+disturbed her, no medley of colours. Even the sun, which sets there in
+greater beauty than anywhere else--blushing so deeply that the whole
+sky blushes with it, that the winding Venn rivulet hedged in by
+cushions of moss, that every pool, every peat-hole full of water
+reflects its beams ruddy-gold, and the sad Venn itself wears a mantle
+of glowing splendour--even this sun brought no glaringly bright light
+with it. It displayed its mighty disc in a grand dignified manner, a
+serious victor after a serious struggle.
+
+Käte looked into this marvellous sun with large eyes bathed in
+tears, until the last beam, the last rosy streak in the grey mass of
+clouds had vanished. Now it had gone--the heavens were dead--but
+in the morning it would be there again, an eternal, imperishable,
+never-conquered hope. Then should not, ought not the human heart to
+beat again too, revived anew, always full of hope?
+
+Clouds of mist sped across the moor, veiled, indescribable, vague
+shapes. There was a whispering before the coming of the wind, a
+lisping through the heather and the cotton-grass--it seemed to Käte as
+though the Venn had something to tell her. What was it saying? Ah, it
+must be for some reason that she had come there, that she felt she was
+being held fast as though by a strong and still kind hand.
+
+She walked on with quicker, more elastic steps, as though she were
+searching for something.
+
+Her husband was delighted that his wife was so pleased with the
+neighbourhood. True, the landscape had no special attraction for
+him--was it not very desolate, monotonous and unfertile there? But the
+characteristic scenery was certainly harmonious, very harmonious--well,
+if she found pleasure in it, it was better than a paradise to him.
+
+They often drove up to Baraque Michel, that lonely inn on the
+borders between Belgium and Prussia, in which the douaniers drank their
+drams of gin when on the look-out for smugglers, and where the
+peat-cutters dry their smocks that the mist has wetted and their
+saturated boots at the fire that is always burning on the hearth.
+
+So many crosses in the Venn, so many human beings who have met with
+a fatal accident. Käte listened to the men's stories with a secret
+shudder--could the Venn be so terrible? and she questioned them again
+and again. Was it possible that the man from Xhoffraix, who had driven
+off to get peat litter, had been swallowed up there so close to the
+road with cart and horse, and that they had never, never seen anything
+of him again? And that cross there, so weather-beaten and black, how
+had that come into the middle of the marsh? Why had that travelling
+journeyman, whose intention it was to go along the high road from
+Malmedy to Eupen, gone so far astray? Had it been dark or had there
+been a heavy fall of snow so that he could not see, or was it
+the cold, that terrible cold, in which a weary man can freeze to death?
+Nothing of the kind; only a mist, a sudden mist, which confuses a man
+so, that he no longer knows which is forward or which is backward,
+which is left or which is right, that he loses all idea of where he is
+going, gets away from the road and runs round in a circle like a poor,
+mad, terrified animal. And all the mists that rise in the Venn when
+daylight disappears, are they the souls of those who have never been
+buried, and who in garments that are falling to pieces rise every night
+from their graves, which have neither been consecrated by a benediction
+nor by holy water and in which they cannot find rest?
+
+That was a fairy tale. But was not everything there as in the fairy
+tale? So quite different to everywhere else in the world, in reality
+ugly and yet not ugly, in reality not beautiful and yet so exceedingly
+beautiful? And she herself, was she not quite a different being there?
+Did she not wander about full of hope, in blissful dreams, like one to
+whom something wonderful is to happen?
+
+It was in the sixth week of their stay at Spa. The nights were
+already as cold as in winter, but the days were still sunny. It was
+always a long journey up to the inn even for the strong Ardennes
+horses, but Paul and his wife were there again to-day. Would they have
+to leave soon? Alas, yes. Käte had to confess it to herself with
+sorrow. Everything was very autumnal, the heather had finished
+flowering, the air was raw; the grass that had already been frozen
+during the night rustled under her feet. They could have found use for
+their winter clothes.
+
+"Ugh, how cold," said the man shivering, and he turned up the collar
+of his overcoat. He wanted to twist a shawl round his wife's neck, but
+she resisted: "No, no!" She ran on in front of him through the
+rustling heather with quick steps. "Just look."
+
+It was a wide view that presented itself to their eyes there on the
+highest point in the Venn, that is adorned with a rickety wooden tower.
+The whole large plateau covered with heather lay before them, with here
+and there a group of dark firs that only showed spreading branches on
+the side away from the storm. These firs that cowered so timidly were
+trees that had been planted there; they were hardly higher than the
+heather, and only recognisable on account of their different colour.
+And, here and there, there was a stray grey boulder and a cross that
+the wind had carried to the side of it. And a calm lay over the whole
+in the pale midday autumn light as though it were God's acre.
+
+When they had climbed up the tower they saw still more. From the
+plateau they looked down into the valley: a blue expanse around them,
+blue from the darkness of the forests and from autumn vapours, and in
+the beautiful blue outstretched villages the white houses half hidden
+behind tall hedges. And here, looking down on Belgium, with its grey
+fumes hanging like a cloud in the clear transparent autumn air, lay the
+large town of Verviers with its church-towers and factory chimneys
+towering above it.
+
+Käte heaved a sigh and shuddered involuntarily: oh, was the workaday
+world so near? Was grey life already approaching nearer and nearer to
+her wonderful fairy world?
+
+Her husband gave a slight cough; he found it very cold up there.
+They went down from the tower, but when he wanted to take her back to
+the inn she resisted: "No, not yet, not yet. That's only the midday
+bell."
+
+The bell was ringing in Fischbach Chapel, that ancient little church
+with its slated roof, in whose tower the great red lantern was
+formerly hoisted to point out the safe harbour to the wanderer swimming
+in the wild sea of mists, and the bell rung unceasingly to save the man
+who had lost his way through his ear should his eye fail him. The bell
+rang out clear and penetrating in the solitude, the only sound in the
+vast stillness.
+
+"How touching that sound is." Käte stood with folded hands and
+looked into the wide expanse, her eyes swimming in tears. What a charm
+there was in this Venn. It encircled the soul as the tough underwood of
+the heather and the creeping tendrils of the club moss entangled the
+foot. When she thought of how soon she would have to leave it, to go
+away from that immense stillness that seemed to be concealing a secret,
+to be cherishing something marvellous in its deep lap, her heart
+contracted in sudden fear. What would happen to her, what would become
+of her? Her seeking soul stood like a child on the threshold of
+fairyland asking for something--was there to be no gift for her?
+
+"What was that?" All at once she seized hold of her husband's arm
+with a low cry of terror. "Didn't you hear it as well?"
+
+She had grown quite pale; she stood there with dilated eyes, raising
+herself on her toes with an involuntary movement and craning her neck
+forward.
+
+"There it is again. Do you hear it?" Something like a child's soft
+whimpering had penetrated to her ear.
+
+No, he had not heard anything. "I suppose there are some people in
+the neighbourhood. How you do frighten a body, Käte." He shook his head
+a little angrily. "You know very well that all the women and children
+have left their villages in the Venn to gather cranberries. That's all
+the harvest they have, you see. Look, the berries are quite ripe."
+Stooping down he took up a plant.
+
+The small cluster of berries of a deep coral in colour formed a
+beautiful contrast to the glossy dark green of the small oval leaf. But
+there were also some flowers on the plant, small pure white
+flowers.
+
+"Like myrtle, just like the flower on a myrtle," she said, taking
+the plant out of his hand. "And the leaves are also exactly like myrtle
+leaves." Twisting the stalk round between her finger and thumb she
+gazed at it thoughtfully. "The Venn myrtle." And, raising the little
+flower to her mouth, she kissed it, full of delight.
+
+"Do you still remember--that time--on the evening of our
+wedding-day, do you still remember? You kissed the myrtle that had been
+in my wreath and I kissed it too, and then we kissed each other.
+Then--then--oh, how happy we were then." She said it very softly, as
+though lost in sweet memories.
+
+He smiled, and as she swayed towards him, with a dreamy look in her
+eyes that were fixed the whole time on the little green plant, he drew
+her closer and laid his arm round her. "And are we not--not"--he wanted
+to say "not just as happy," but all he said was: "not happy to-day,
+too?"
+
+She did not answer, she remained silent. But then, hurling the plant
+with its glossy leaves away with a sudden movement, she turned and ran
+away from him blindly into the Venn, without noticing where she was
+going.
+
+"What's the matter, Käte?" He hurried after her, terrified. She ran
+so quickly that he could not overtake her at once. "Käte, you'll fall.
+Wait, I say. Käte, what is the matter with you?"
+
+No answer. But he saw from the convulsive movements of her shoulders
+that she was weeping violently. Oh dear, what was the matter now? He
+looked troubled as he ran after her across the desolate Venn. Was she
+never to get any better? It was really enough to make a fellow
+lose all pleasure in life. How stupid it had been to bring her to the
+Venn--real madness. There was no brightness to be found there. A
+hopelessness lurked in that unlimited expanse, a terrible hardness in
+that sharp aromatic air, an unbearable melancholy in that vast
+stillness.
+
+The man only heard his own quickened breathing. He ran more and more
+quickly, all at once he became very anxious about his wife. Now he had
+almost reached her--he had already stretched out his hand to seize hold
+of her fluttering dress--then she turned round, threw herself into his
+arms and sobbed: "Oh, here's both, blossom and fruit. But our myrtle
+has faded and not borne fruit--not fruit--we poor people."
+
+So that was it--the same thing again? Confound it. He who as a rule
+was so temperate stamped his foot violently. Anger, shame, and a
+certain feeling of pain drove the blood to his head. There he stood now
+in that lonely place with his wife in his arms weeping most pitifully,
+whilst he himself was deserving of much pity in his own opinion.
+
+"Don't be angry, don't be angry," she implored, clinging
+more closely to him. "You see, I had hoped--oh, hoped for
+certain--expected--I don't know myself what, but still I had expected
+something here--and today--just now everything has become clear. All,
+all was in vain. Let me cry."
+
+And she wept as one in whom all hope is dead.
+
+What was he to say to her? How console her? He did not venture to
+say a word, only stroked her hot face softly whilst he, too, became
+conscious of a certain feeling, that feeling that he had not always the
+strength to push aside.
+
+They stood like that for a long time without saying a word,
+until he, pulling himself together, said in a voice that he tried to
+make calm and indifferent: "We shall have to return, we have got quite
+into the wilds. Come, take my arm. You are overtired, and when we--"
+
+"Hush," she said, interrupting him, letting go of his arm quickly.
+"The same as before. Somebody is in trouble."
+
+Now he heard it as well. They both listened. Was it an animal? Or a
+child's voice, the voice of quite a small child?
+
+"My God!" Käte said nothing more, but making up her mind quickly,
+she turned to the right and ran down into a small hollow, without
+heeding that she stumbled several times among the bushes, through which
+it was impossible for her to force a passage.
+
+Her quick ear had led her right. There was the child lying on the
+ground. It had no pillow, no covering, and was miserably wrapt up in a
+woman's old torn skirt. The little head with its dark hair lay in the
+heather that was covered with hoar-frost; the child was gazing fixedly
+into the luminous space between the heavens and the Venn with its large
+clear eyes.
+
+There was no veil, nothing to protect it; no mother either--only the
+Venn.
+
+Nevertheless they had deceived themselves. It was not crying, it was
+only talking to itself as quiet contented children generally do. It had
+stretched out its little hands, which were not wrapped up like the rest
+of its body, and had seized hold of some of the red berries and
+squashed them. Then its little fists had wandered up to the hungry
+mouth; there were drops of the juice from the berries on its baby
+lips.
+
+"Quite alone?" Käte had sunk down on her knees, her hands trembled
+as they embraced the bundle. "Oh, the poor child. How sweet it is.
+Look, Paul. How has it come here? It will die of cold, of
+hunger. Do call out, Paul. The poor little mite. If its mother came now
+I would give her a piece of my mind it's disgraceful to let the
+helpless little mite lie like this. Call--loud--louder."
+
+He called, he shouted: "Heigh! Hallo! Is nobody there?"
+
+No voice answered, nobody came. The whole Venn was as quiet as
+though it were an extinct, long-forgotten world.
+
+"Nobody is coming," whispered Käte quite softly, and there was an
+expression of fear and at the same time trembling exultation in her
+voice. "Its mother does not trouble--who knows where the woman is? I
+wonder if she's coming?" She looked round searchingly, turned her head
+in all directions, and then stooped over the child again with a sigh of
+contentment.
+
+What unpardonable thoughtlessness--no, what unspeakable barbarity
+to abandon such a mite in that place. If they had come only a few
+hours--only an hour later. It might already have been bitten by a snake
+then, might even have been torn to pieces by a wolf.
+
+Then her husband had to laugh, although the sight of her
+over-excitement had slightly annoyed him. "No, my child, there are no
+poisonous snakes here and no more wolves either, so you can be at rest
+about that. But when the mists begin to rise, they would have done for
+him."
+
+"Oh!" Käte pressed the foundling to her bosom. She was sitting on
+her heels holding the child in her lap; she stroked its rosy cheeks,
+its little downy head, and showered caresses and flattering words on
+it, but the child continued to gaze into the luminous space with its
+large, dark, and yet so clear eyes. It did not smile, but it did not
+cry either; it took no notice whatever of the strangers.
+
+"Do you think it has been left here intentionally?" asked Käte
+suddenly, opening her eyes wide. The blood flew to her head in a hot
+wave. "Oh then--then"--she drew a trembling breath and pressed the
+child to her bosom, as though she did not want to let it go again.
+
+"It will all be cleared up somehow," said the man evasively. "The
+mother will be sure to come."
+
+"Do you see her--do you see her?" she inquired almost anxiously.
+
+"No."
+
+"No." She repeated it in a relieved tone of voice, and then she
+laughed. After that her eyes and ears belonged entirely to the helpless
+little creature. "Where's baby--where is he then? Laugh a little, do.
+Look at me once with those big, staring eyes. Oh, you little darling,
+oh, you sweet child." She played with it and pressed kisses on its
+hands without noticing that they were dirty.
+
+"What are we to do now?" said the man, perplexed.
+
+"We can't leave it here. We shall have to take it with us, of
+course." There was something very energetic about the delicate-looking
+woman all at once. "Do you think I would forsake the child?" Her cheeks
+glowed, her eyes gleamed.
+
+Paul Schlieben looked at his wife with a certain awe. How beautiful
+she was at that moment. Beautiful, healthy, happy. He had not seen her
+like that for a long time. Not since he had folded her in his arms as a
+happy bride. Her bosom rose and fell quickly with every trembling
+breath she took, and the child lay on her breast and the Venn myrtle
+bloomed at her feet.
+
+A strange emotion came over him; but he turned away: what had that
+strange child to do with them? Still he admitted in a hesitating voice:
+"We certainly can't leave it here. But do you know what we can do?
+We'll take it with us to the inn. Give it to me, I'll carry it."
+
+But she wanted to carry it herself, she only let him help her up.
+"There--there--come, my sweet little babe." She raised her foot
+cautiously to take the first step--then a shout tied her to the
+spot.
+
+"Hallo!"
+
+A rough voice had shouted it. And now a woman came up to them; the
+figure in the fluttering skirt was outlined big and clear against the
+rarefied ether that flowed around it.
+
+Where had she come from so suddenly? From there, from behind the
+mound of earth that had been thrown up near the peat pit. She had been
+creeping on all fours plucking berries; a pail that was almost ft 11
+hung on her arm, and in her right hand she carried the wooden measure
+and the large bone curry-comb with which she stripped off the
+berries.
+
+That was the mother! Käte got a terrible fright; she turned
+pale.
+
+Her husband was taken by surprise too. But then he gave a sigh of
+relief: that was decidedly the best way out of it. Of course, they
+might have known it at once, how should the child have come into the
+desolate Venn all alone? The mother had been looking for berries, and
+had put it down there meanwhile.
+
+But the woman did not seem to take it kindly that they had looked so
+carefully after the child during her absence. The strong bony arms took
+it away from the lady somewhat roughly. The woman's eyes examined the
+strangers suspiciously.
+
+"Is it your child?" asked Paul. He need not have asked the question;
+it had exactly the same dark eyes as the woman, only the
+child's were brighter, not dulled as yet by life's dust as the mother's
+were.
+
+The woman made no answer. It was only when the man asked once more,
+"Are you the mother?" and put his hand into his pocket at the same
+time, that she found it worth while to give a curt nod:
+
+"C'est l' mi'n."[A] Her face retained its gloomy expression; there
+was no movement of pride or joy.
+
+
+
+[Footnote A: C'est le mien.]
+
+
+
+Käte noticed it with a certain angry surprise. How indifferent the
+woman was. Was she not holding the child as though it were a useless
+burden? She was filled with envy, torturing envy, and at the same time
+with hot anger. That woman certainly did not deserve the child. She
+would have liked to have torn it out of her arms. How rough she looked,
+what coarse features she had, what a hard expression. She might really
+frighten anybody terribly with her black looks. But now--now her
+expression brightened; ah, she had seen the piece of money Paul had
+taken out of his purse.
+
+Ugh, what a greedy expression she had now.
+
+The fruit-picker stretched out her hand--there was a large shining
+silver coin--and when it was given to her, when she held it in her hand
+she drew a deep breath; her brown fingers closed round it tightly.
+
+"Merci." A smile passed quickly across the sullen face in which the
+corners of the mouth drooped morosely, her blunted expression grew
+animated for a moment or two. And then she prepared to trudge away, the
+shapeless bundle containing the child on one arm, the heavy pail on the
+other.
+
+They now saw for the first time how poor her skirt was; it had
+patches of all colours and sizes. Dried heather and fir-needles stuck
+to her matted and untidy plaits, as they hung out from the gaudily
+spotted cotton handkerchief; she had an old pair of men's
+hobnailed shoes on her feet. They did not know whether she was old or
+young; her stout body and hanging breasts disfigured her, but that her
+face had not been ugly once upon a time could still be seen. The little
+one resembled her.
+
+"You've got a pretty child," said Paul. To please his wife he
+started a conversation again with this woman who was so inaccessible.
+"How old is the boy?"
+
+The fruit-picker shook her head and looked past the questioner
+apathetically. There was no getting anything out of the woman, how
+terribly stupid she was. The man wanted to let her go, but Käte pressed
+up against him and whispered: "Ask her where she lives. Where she
+lives--do you hear?"
+
+"Heigh, where do you live, my good woman?"
+
+She shook her head once more without saying a word.
+
+"Where do you come from, I mean? From what village?"
+
+"Je ne co'pr nay,"[A] she said curtly. But then, becoming more
+approachable--perhaps she hoped for a second gift of money--she began
+in a whining, plaintive voice: "Ne n'ava nay de pan et tat d's
+e'fa'ts."[B]
+
+"You're a Walloon, aren't you?"
+
+"Ay[C]--Longfaye." And she raised her arm and pointed in a direction
+in which nothing was to be seen but the heavens and the Venn.
+
+Longfaye was a very poor village in the Venn. Paul Schlieben knew
+that, and was about to put his hand into his pocket again, but Käte
+held him back, "No, not her--not the woman--you must hand it over to
+the vestryman for the child, the poor child."
+
+
+
+[Footnote A: Je ne comprends pas.]
+
+[Footnote B: Nous n'avons pas de pain et tant d'enfants.]
+
+[Footnote C: Yes.]
+
+
+
+She whispered softly and very quickly in her excitement.
+
+It was impossible for the woman to have understood anything, but her
+black eyes flew as quick as lightning from the gentleman to the lady,
+and remained fixed on the fine lady from the town full of suspicion: if
+she would not give her anything, why should she let them ask her any
+more questions? What did they want with her? With the curtest of nods
+and a brusque "adieu" the Walloon turned away. She walked away across
+the marsh calmly but with long strides; she got on quickly, her figure
+became smaller and smaller, and soon the faded colour of her miserable
+skirt was no longer recognisable in the colourless Venn.
+
+The sun had disappeared with the child; suddenly everything became
+grey.
+
+Käte stood motionless looking in the direction of Longfaye. She
+stood until she shivered with cold, and then hung heavily on her
+husband's arm; she went along to the inn with dragging feet, as though
+she had grown tired all at once.
+
+The mist began to conceal the bright midday. Cold damp air, which
+wets more than rain, made their clothes clammy. The stinging flies from
+the swamps flew in big swarms through the door and windows of the inn;
+a smouldering peat-fire was burning within, fanned to a bright flame
+by means of dry fir twigs, and the flies clung to the wall near the
+fire-place and to the ceiling--no, they would not die yet.
+
+Autumn had come, sun and warmth had disappeared from the Venn, it
+was wise to flee now.
+
+But outside, in the depths of the wilds above the highest point in
+the Venn, a lonely buzzard was moving round and round in a circle,
+uttering the piercing triumphant cry of a wild bird. He was happy there
+in summer as in winter. He did not want to leave.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+The vestryman of the small village in the Venn felt somewhat surprised
+and embarrassed when such a fine lady and gentleman drove up to his
+house and wished to speak to him. He went out to them, walking through
+the filthy water in his yard that splashed up to his knees. He did not
+know where he should take them to, as the little pigs and the calf were
+in the house and the old sow was wallowing in front of the door.
+
+So they walked up and down the quiet village street from which the
+few farms lay somewhat back, whilst the carriage jolted slowly along in
+the deep ruts behind them.
+
+Käte was pale, you could see from her eyes that she had only had
+very little sleep. But she was smiling, and a happy excitement full of
+expectation was written on her features, spoke in her gait; she was
+always a little ahead of the others.
+
+Her husband's face was very grave. Was he not committing a great
+imprudence, acting in an extremely hasty manner for the sake of his
+wife? If it did not turn out all right?
+
+They had had a bad night. He had brought Käte home from the inn the
+day before in a strangely silent and absent-minded mood. She had eaten
+nothing, and, feigning extreme fatigue, had gone early to bed.
+But when he retired to rest a few hours later he found her still awake.
+She was sitting up in bed with her beautiful hair hanging down her back
+in two long plaits, which gave her quite a youthful appearance. Her
+bewildered eyes gazed at him full of a strange longing, and then she
+threw both arms round his neck and drew his head down to her.
+
+Her manner had been so strange, so gentle and yet so impetuous, that
+he asked her anxiously whether there was anything the matter with her.
+But she had only shaken her head and held him close in a silent
+embrace.
+
+At last he thought she had fallen asleep--and she was asleep, but
+only for quite a short time. Then she woke again with a loud cry. She
+had dreamt, dreamt so vividly--oh, if he knew what she had been
+dreaming. Dreaming--dreaming--she sighed and tossed about, and then
+laughed softly to herself.
+
+He noticed that she had something on her mind, which she would like
+to tell him but which she had hardly the courage to say. So he asked
+her.
+
+Then she had confessed it to him, hesitatingly, shyly, and yet with
+so much passion that it terrified him. It was the child of which she
+had been thinking the whole time, of which she always must think--oh,
+if only she had it. She would have it, must have it. The woman had so
+many other children, and she--she had none. And she would be so happy
+with it, so unspeakably happy.
+
+She had become more and more agitated in the darkness of the night,
+uninterrupted by a single word from him, by any movement--he had lain
+quite quietly, almost as though the surprise had paralysed him,
+although it could not really be called a surprise any more. What was
+her whole life? she had said. A constant longing. All the love
+he showered on her could not replace the one thing: a child, a
+child.
+
+"My dear, good husband, don't refuse it. Make me happy. No other
+mother on earth will be so happy--my darling husband, give me the
+child." Her tears were falling, her arms clasped him, her kisses rained
+down on his face.
+
+"But why just _that_ child? And why decide so quickly? It's no
+trifle--we must think it over very carefully first."
+
+He had made objections, excuses, but she had pertinent answers ready
+for all. What was to be thought over very carefully? They would not
+come to any other result. And how could he think for a moment that the
+woman would perhaps not give them the child? If she did not love it,
+she would be glad to give it, and if she did love it, then all the more
+reason for her to be glad to give it, and to thank God that she knew it
+was so well taken care of.
+
+"But the father, the father. Who knows whether he will agree to
+it?"
+
+"Oh, the father. If the mother gives it, the father is sure to
+agree. One bread-eater less is always a good thing for such poor
+people. The poor child, perhaps it will die for want of food, and it
+would be so well"--she broke off--"isn't it like a dispensation of
+Providence that just we should come to the Venn, that just we should
+find it?"
+
+He felt that she was persuading him, and he strove against it in his
+heart. No, if she allowed herself to be carried away by her feelings in
+such a manner--she was only a woman--then he, as a man, must
+subordinate his feelings to common sense.
+
+And he enumerated all the difficulties to her again and again, and
+finally said to her: "You can't guess what troubles you may be
+preparing for yourself. If the affection you now think you feel for the
+child should not last? If he is not congenial to you when he grows
+older? Bear in mind, he is and will always be the child you have
+adopted."
+
+But then she had almost flown into a passion. "How can you say such
+things? Do you think I am narrow-minded? Whether it is my own child or
+a child I have adopted is quite immaterial, as it becomes mine through
+its training. I will train it in my own way. That it is of your own
+flesh and blood has nothing to do with it. Am I only to love a child
+because I have borne it? Oh no. I love the child because--because it is
+so small, so innocent, because it must be so extremely sweet when such
+a helpless little creature stretches out its arms to you." And she
+spread out her arms and then folded them across her breast, as though
+she was already holding a child to her heart. "You're a man, you do not
+understand it. But you are so anxious to make me happy make me happy
+now. Dear, darling husband, you will very soon forget that it is not
+our own child, you will soon not remember it any more. It will say
+'Father,' 'Mother' to us--and we will be its father and mother."
+
+If she were right! He was silent, thrilled by a strange emotion. And
+why should she not be right? A child that one trains according to one's
+own method from its first year, that is removed entirely from the
+surroundings in which it was born, that does not know but what it is
+the child of its present parents, that learns to think with their
+thoughts and feel with their feelings, cannot have anything strange
+about it any more. It will become part of oneself, will be as dear, as
+beloved as though one had begotten it oneself.
+
+Pictures arose before his mind's eye which he no longer
+expected to see, no longer ventured to hope for. He saw his smiling
+wife with a smiling child on her lap; he saw himself smile, and felt a
+pride he had never known when he heard its soft childish voice lisp:
+"Fa-ther." Yes, Käte was right, all the other things that go by the
+name of happiness are nothing compared to this happiness. Only a
+father, a mother, knows what joy is.
+
+He kissed his wife, and this kiss already meant half consent; she
+felt that.
+
+"Let us drive there to-morrow, the first thing to-morrow morning,"
+she implored, in a tone of suppressed rapture.
+
+He endeavoured to remain calm: after they had maturely considered
+the matter, they would first have to talk it over with their lawyer in
+Berlin, and other intimate friends.
+
+Then she lost her temper. She pouted, and then she laughed at him:
+was this a business matter? What had the lawyer and other people to do
+with such a very important, quite personal and private matter? Nobody
+was to be asked about it, nobody was to interfere with it. Not a single
+person must suspect where the child came from or who were its parents.
+They, he and she, were its parents, they were responsible for it, its
+life had begun when they took it, and they vouched for its future. This
+child was their work, their work entirely.
+
+"We'll fetch it the first thing to-morrow. The sooner it gets out of
+that dirt and misery the better--don't you agree with me, Paul?" She
+did not give him a chance of saying anything more, she overwhelmed him
+with plans and proposals, in her sparkling vivacity; and her exuberant
+spirits overcame his scruples.
+
+One can have too many scruples, be too cautious, and thus embitter
+every pleasure in life, he said to himself. There was surely
+nothing extraordinary in what they were doing? They only picked up
+something that had been laid at their feet; in that way they were
+obeying a hint given them by Fate. And there were really no
+difficulties in connection with it. If they did not betray it
+themselves nobody would find out about the child's antecedents, and
+there would not be any questions asked in the village either as to what
+had become of it. It was a nameless, homeless little creature they were
+going to take away with them, of which they would make what they liked.
+Later on when the little one was old enough they would formally adopt
+it, and thus confirm also in writing what their hearts had already
+approved of long ago. Now the only thing left to do was to get hold of
+the vestryman at Longfaye, and make arrangements with the parents for
+the surrender of the child with his assistance.
+
+When Paul Schlieben had come to this decision, he was troubled with
+the same restlessness as his wife. Oh, if only it were morning, she
+groaned. If anybody should steal a march on them now, if the child
+should no longer be there next morning? She tossed about in her
+impatience and fear. But her husband also turned from side to side
+without sleeping. How could they know whether the child was healthy?
+For a moment he weighed anxiously in his mind whether it would not be
+advisable to confide in the doctor at the baths at Spa--he might drive
+with them and examine the child first of all--but then he rejected the
+thought again. The child looked so strong. He recalled its sturdy
+fists, the clear look in its bright eyes--it had lain on the bare
+ground in the cold and wind without any protection--it must have a
+strong constitution. They need not trouble about that.
+
+It was very early in the morning when husband and wife
+rose--weary as though all their limbs were bruised, but driven on by a
+kind of joyful determination.
+
+Käte ran about the room at the hotel, so busy, so happy and excited,
+as though she were expecting a dear guest. She felt so sure they would
+bring the child back with them straightway. At all events she would
+commence packing the trunks, for when they had got it they would want
+to get home, home as quickly as possible. "The hotel is no place for
+such a little darling. It must have its nursery, a bright room with
+flowered curtains--but dark ones besides to draw in front of the
+windows so as to subdue the light when it goes to sleep--otherwise
+everything must be bright, light, airy. And there must be a baby's
+chest-of-drawers there with all the many bottles and basins, and its
+little bath, its bed with the white muslin curtains behind which you
+can see it lying with red cheeks, its little fist near its head,
+slumbering soundly."
+
+She was so young-looking, so lovely in her joyful expectation, that
+her husband was charmed with her. Did not the sunshine seem to be
+coming now for which he had been waiting so long in vain? It preceded
+the child, fell on its path, making it clear and bright.
+
+Both husband and wife were full of excitement as they drove to
+Longfaye. They had taken a comfortable landau that could be closed that
+day, instead of the light carriage for two in which they generally made
+their excursions. It might be too cold for the child on the way back.
+Rugs and cloaks and shawls were packed in it, quite a large choice.
+
+Paul Schlieben had taken his papers with him. They would hardly be
+likely to want any proof of his identity, but he stuck them into his
+pocket as a precaution, so as to provide against any delay that might
+be caused by their absence. He had been told that the vestryman
+was quite a sensible man, so everything would be settled smoothly.
+
+As the rowan trees on both sides of the road bowed their tops under
+their autumn load of red berries, so the heads of both husband and wife
+were bowed under a flood of thoughts full of promise. The trees flew
+quickly past the carriage as it rolled along, and so did their lives'
+different stages past their agitated minds. Fifteen years of married
+life--long years when one is expecting something first with confidence,
+then with patience, then with faint-heartedness, then with longing,
+with a longing that is kept more and more secret as the years go by,
+and that becomes more and more burning on account of the secrecy. Now
+the fulfilment was at hand--a fulfilment certainly different from what
+husbands and wives who love each other picture to themselves, but still
+a fulfilment.
+
+That old sentence in the Bible came into the woman's mind and would
+not be banished: _But when the fulness of the time was come, God sent
+forth His Son._ Oh, this child from a strange, from an unknown land,
+from a land that had neither fields nor fruits, and was not blessed
+with rich harvests, this child was a gift from God, given by His
+goodness. She bowed her head full of gratitude, as though she had
+received a blessing.
+
+And the man pressed his wife's hand gently, and she returned the
+pressure. They remained sitting hand in hand. His glance sought hers
+and she blushed. She loved him again as in the first year of her
+marriage--no, she loved him much more now, for now, now he gave her the
+happiness of her life, the child.
+
+Her eyes that were full of bliss swept over the poor Venn district,
+which looked brown and desolate, and which was still a fairyland full
+of the most glorious wonders.
+
+"Didn't I know it?" she murmured triumphantly, although trembling
+with an agitation that was almost superstitious. "I felt
+it--here--here."
+
+She could hardly wait until they reached the village hi the Venn,
+oh, how far away from the world it lay, so quite forgotten. And so
+poor. But the poverty did not terrify her, nor the dirt--the result of
+the poverty; she was going to take the child away with her now, to take
+him where there was culture and prosperity, and he would never know
+that he had lain on the bare ground instead of in a soft bed. She
+thought of Moses. As he had been found in the bulrushes on the banks of
+the Nile, so she had found him on the grass in the Venn--would he
+become a great man like him? Desires, prayers, hopes, and a hundred
+feelings she had not known before agitated her mind.
+
+Paul Schlieben had some difficulty in making the vestryman
+understand him. It was not because the man was a Walloon who hardly
+understood German, for Nikolas Rocherath of "Good Hope"--his house
+having received that name because it could be seen a good distance off
+in the Venn, it being the largest in the village--was a German, but
+because he could not understand what the gentleman meant.
+
+What did he want with Lisa Solheid's Jean-Pierre? Adopt him? He
+looked quite puzzled at first, and then he got offended. No, even if he
+was nothing but a simple peasant, he would not let the gentleman make a
+fool of him.
+
+It was only by degrees that Schlieben could convince him that his
+intentions were serious. But the old man still continued to rub his
+stubbly chin doubtfully and cast suspicious glances at the lady and
+gentleman, who had broken in on his solitude so unexpectedly. It was
+only when Käte, wearied and tortured by the long explanation,
+seized hold of his arm impatiently, and looking into his face cried
+impetuously, almost angrily, "For goodness' sake do understand. We have
+no child, but we want a child--now do you understand it?"--that he
+understood.
+
+No child--oh dear! No child! Then people do not know what they are
+living for. Now he nodded comprehendingly, and, casting a compassionate
+look at the lady who was so rich, so finely dressed and still had no
+children, he became much more approachable. So they were so pleased
+with Lisa Solheid's Jean-Pierre that they wanted to take him to Berlin
+with them? How lucky the boy was. Lisa would not be able to believe it.
+But nobody would begrudge her it. Nobody in Longfaye was as poor as
+she; many a day she did not know how to get sufficient food for herself
+and her five. Formerly, whilst her husband was alive----
+
+What, her husband was not alive? She was a widow? Paul Schlieben
+interrupted the vestryman, and drew a long breath as though of relief.
+Although he had never spoken of it, he had always had a secret fear of
+the father: if he turned out to be a drunkard or a ne'er-do-well? A
+load fell from his mind now--he was dead, he could not do any more
+harm. Or had he died of an illness after all, of a wasting disease that
+is handed down to children and children's children? He had been told
+that the mists on the Venn and the sudden changes in the temperature
+may easily be injurious to the lungs and throat--added to that hard
+work and bad food--surely the young man had not died of consumption? He
+asked the question anxiously.
+
+But Nikolas Rocherath laughed. No, Michel Solheid had never known a
+day's illness all his life, and had not died of any illness. He had
+worked at the machine factory at Verviers, covered with black soot and
+naked to the waist. Cold and heat had had no effect on him. And
+he used to come over from Verviers every Saturday and spend Sunday with
+his family. And it had been the Saturday before the festival of St.
+Peter and St. Paul somewhat over a year ago now, and Michel had bought
+his wife a side of bacon and one or two pounds of coffee for the money
+he had earned for overtime.
+
+"You must know, sir, everything is much too dear for us here, and it
+is much cheaper on the other side of the frontier," said the old man in
+a troubled voice; then, raising his fist slowly, he shook it at the
+Venn that lay there so peaceful and remote from the world. "But they
+were soon on his tracks. They came after him from the Baraque--the
+accursed douaniers. Three, four of them. Now you must know that Michel
+could run as well as any of them. If he had thrown his parcel behind a
+bush and run, they would never have caught him. But no, he would not,
+he would have felt ashamed of himself if he had done so. So in order
+not to let them know where he was going, he ran to the left through the
+Walloon Venn in the direction of Hill instead of to the right. Then on
+through Clefay and Neckel,[A] and so on in all directions, and in this
+manner he got away from the neighbourhood he knew as well as he knew
+his own pocket. They were close at his heels above the Pannensterz. And
+they ran after him calling out 'Stop!'
+
+
+
+[Footnote A: Wooded districts in the High Venn.]
+
+
+
+"Look you, sir, if he had run into the Great Haard then and hidden
+in the thicket there, they would never have found him without a dog.
+But he lost his head, and ran out of the bushes straight across the
+Venn.
+
+"'Halt!--Stop!'--and a third time 'Halt!' But he bounded along like
+a stag. Then one of them pulled his trigger and--Jesus Christ have
+mercy upon us, now and at the hour of our death!"--the vestryman
+devoutly made the sign of the cross and then wiped his nose with the
+back of his hand--"the shot pierced the side of bacon and went into his
+back, in from behind, out at the front. Then Solheid turned a
+somersault. It was a shame. Such a fine fellow, for a side of bacon.
+
+"He still lived for over an hour. He told them that he was Solheid
+from Longfaye, and that they should fetch his wife.
+
+"I was just cutting my hedge that day, when somebody came running
+up. And I started off with Lisa, who was six months gone with
+Jean-Pierre at the time. But when we came there it was already too
+late.
+
+"They had left him lying not far from the large cross. They had
+wanted to carry him to a house at Ruitzhof, but he had said 'Leave me.
+I'll die here.' And he gazed at the sun.
+
+"Sir, it was as large and red in the sky that day--as large--as it
+will be on the Day of Judgment. Sir, he was bathed in sweat and
+blood--they had chased him for hours--but he still enjoyed gazing at
+the sun.
+
+"Sir, the fellow who had shot him was almost out of his mind; he
+held him on his knees and wept. Sir, no,"--the vestryman gave himself a
+shake and his gestures expressed the aversion he felt--"I would not
+like to be a douanier!"
+
+The old man's voice had grown deeper and hoarser--it was a sign of
+the sympathy he felt--now it got its former even-tempered ring again.
+"If it's agreeable to you, ma'am, we'll go now."
+
+"Oh, the child, the poor child," whispered Käte, quite shaken.
+
+"Do you think the widow will part with her youngest child?" asked
+Paul Schlieben, seized with a sudden fear. This child that had
+been born after its father's death--was it possible?
+
+"Oh!" the old man rocked his head to and fro and chuckled. "If you
+give a good sum for it. She has enough of them."
+
+Nikolas Rocherath was quite the peasant again now; it was no longer
+the same man who had spoken of the sun in the Venn and Solheid's death.
+The point now was to get as much out of these people as possible, to
+fleece a stranger and a townsman into the bargain to the best of his
+ability.
+
+"Hundred thalers would not be too much to ask," he said, blinking
+sideways at the gentleman's grave face. What a lot of money he must
+have, why, not a muscle of his face had moved.
+
+The old peasant had been used to haggling all his life when trading
+in cattle, now he gazed at the strange gentleman full of admiration for
+such wealth. He led the way to Solheid's cottage with alacrity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+Like all the houses in the village, the Solheids' cottage stood quite
+alone behind a hedge that reached as high as the gable. But the hedge,
+which was to protect it against the storms that raged in the Venn and
+the heavy snowdrifts, was not thick any longer; you could see that
+there was no man's hand there to take care of it. The hornbeams had
+shot up irregularly; dead branches lashed by the wind from the Venn
+stretched themselves in the air like accusing fingers.
+
+Ugh, it must be icy cold there in the winter. Käte involuntarily
+drew her cloak of soft cloth lined with silk more tightly round her.
+And it must be doubly dark there on dark days. Hardly any light found
+its way through the tiny windows owing to the protecting hedge, and the
+roof hung low over the entrance. There were no steps, you walked
+straight into the room.
+
+The vestryman rattled the iron knocker on the door, which had once
+been painted green but had no colour left now. The sound reverberated
+through the building, but the door did not open when they tried it. The
+woman was probably among the berries, and the children with her. The
+hungry screams of the youngest one was all that was heard inside the
+locked cottage.
+
+The poor child--oh, she had left it alone again. Käte trembled with
+excitement, its screams sounded to her like a call for help.
+
+The vestryman sat down calmly on the chopping-block in front of the
+door and drew his pipe out of the pocket of his blue linen smock, which
+he had hastily drawn over his working coat in honour of the lady and
+the gentleman. Now they would have to wait.
+
+The husband and wife looked at each other much disappointed. Wait?
+Käte had refused the seat on the chopping-block, which the old man had
+offered her with a certain gallantry. She could not rest, she walked
+restlessly up and down in front of the little window, trying in vain to
+look through the dark pane.
+
+The child inside screamed more and more loudly. Old Rocherath
+laughed: what a roar that was to be sure, Jean-Pierre had powerful
+lungs.
+
+Käte could not listen to the screams any longer, they tortured her
+both bodily and mentally. Oh, how they made her ears tingle. She
+covered them with her hands. And her heart trembled with compassion and
+anger: how could its mother remain away so long?
+
+Her brow was wet with perspiration. She stared at the Venn, at the
+bare, treeless, tortuous path with burning impatient eyes. At last she
+saw some figures--at last!--and yet her breath stopped all at once, her
+heart ceased to beat and then suddenly went hammering on at a furious
+pace as if mad. There came the child's mother!
+
+Lisa Solheid was carrying a bundle of fagots on her back, which was
+fastened round her shoulders with a rope The load was so heavy that it
+quite weighed her down, bending her head forward. Three children--their
+small feet in clumsy shoes with big nails in them--stamped along in
+front of their mother, whilst a fourth was clinging to her skirt. It
+had also been looking for cranberries, and its little hands were
+coloured red like those of its older sister and brothers, who were
+carrying pails, measure and comb.
+
+Pretty children, all four of them. They had the same dark eyes as
+little Jean-Pierre, and they stared with them half boldly, half timidly
+at the strange lady who was smiling at them.
+
+The woman did not recognise the lady and gentleman again who had
+given her a present in the Venn the day before--or did she only pretend
+not to?
+
+The rope which had kept the bundle together had cut deep into her
+shoulders and bosom, now she undid it and threw off the burden with a
+powerful jerk; and then, seizing hold of the axe lying near the
+chopping-block, she began to chop up a couple of big branches with
+powerful strokes.
+
+"Hallo, Lisa," said the vestryman, "when you have chopped sufficient
+wood to cook the cranberries, just wait a bit."
+
+She looked up at him for a moment. The strange lady and gentleman
+had gone a little aside--without previous arrangement. Let the
+vestryman tell her first. It was not so simple a matter as they had
+imagined. She was not very approachable.
+
+Not a feature changed in the woman's reserved face; she went on with
+her work in silence, her lips compressed. The wood was split up by
+means of her powerful blows, and the pieces flew around her. Was she
+listening at all to what the man was saying to her?
+
+Yes--the spectators exchanged a hasty glance--and now she was
+answering too in a more lively manner than they would have supposed,
+judging from her sullen appearance.
+
+Lisa Solheid raised her arm and pointed to the cottage in which the
+little one was still screaming. Her speech--an almost barbaric
+dialect--sounded rough, they understood nothing of it except a French
+word here and there. The vestryman spoke Walloon too. Both of them
+became excited, raised their voices and spoke to each other in a
+loud voice; it sounded almost like quarrelling.
+
+They did not seem to agree. Käte listened in suppressed terror.
+Would she give it? Would he get it from her?
+
+She pulled her husband's sleeve when nobody was looking. "Offer
+more, give her some more, a hundred thalers is much too little." And he
+must also promise the peasant something for his trouble. A hundred, two
+hundred, three hundred, a hundred times a hundred would not be too
+much. Oh, how the poor child was screaming. She could hardly bear to
+stand outside the door doing nothing any longer.
+
+Little Jean-Pierre's sister and brothers--a beautiful girl with
+untidy hair and three younger brothers--stood with their fingers in
+their mouths, their dirty noses unwiped, and did not move from the
+spot.
+
+Their mother spoke to them angrily, "Off with you!" And they darted
+off, one almost tumbling over another. They scraped the key out of the
+little hole under the door, and the biggest of them thrust it into the
+rusty lock, and, standing on her toes, turned it with all the strength
+of her small hands.
+
+Then the woman turned to the strange lady and gentleman; she made a
+gesture of invitation with her thin right hand: "Entrez."
+
+They stepped in. It was so low inside that Paul Schlieben had to
+bend his head so as not to knock against the beams in the ceiling, and
+so dark that it took a considerable time before they could distinguish
+anything at all. It could not have been poorer anywhere--one single
+room in all. The hearth was formed of unhewn stones roughly put
+together, above it hung the kettle in an iron chain that was made fast
+to the blackened beam; the smoke from the smouldering peat ascended
+into the wide sooty chimney. A couple of earthenware plates in the
+plate-rack--cracked but with gay-coloured flowers on them--a couple of
+dented pewter vessels, a milk-pail, a wooden tub, a long bench behind
+the table, on the table half a loaf of bread and a knife, a few clothes
+on some nails, the double bed built half into the wall, in which the
+widow no doubt slept with the children now, and little Jean-Pierre's
+clumsy wooden cradle in front of it--that was all.
+
+Really all? Käte looked round, shivering a little in the cold dark
+room that was as damp as a cellar. Oh, how poor and comfortless. There
+were no ornaments, nothing to decorate it. Oh yes, there was a
+glaringly gaudy picture of the Virgin Mary--a coarse colour-print on
+thin paper--a vessel for holy water made of white china beneath it, and
+there on the other wall close to the window so that the sparse light
+fell on it the picture of a soldier. A framed and glazed picture in
+three divisions; the same foot-soldier taken three times. To the
+left, shouldering his arms, on guard before the black and white
+sentry-box--to the right, ready to march with knapsack and cooking
+utensils strapped on his back, bread-bag and field-flask at his
+side, gun at his feet--in the centre, in full dress uniform as a
+lance-corporal, with his hand to his helmet saluting.
+
+That was no doubt the man, Michel Solheid as a soldier. Käte cast a
+timid glance at the picture--that man had been shot in the Venn whilst
+smuggling. How terrible! She heard the old man tell the story once
+more, saw the bleeding man lying in the heather, and the horror of his
+tragic end made her shudder. Her glance fell on the picture again and
+again, the usual picture of a soldier which told nothing whatever in
+its stereotyped inanity, and then on little Jean-Pierre's cradle. Did
+he resemble his father much?
+
+Paul Schlieben had expected his wife to speak--she would of course
+know best what to say to the other woman--but she was silent. And the
+vestryman did not say anything either; as he had started the
+negotiations he considered it polite to let the gentleman speak now.
+And Lisa Solheid was also silent. All she did was to drive away the
+children, who wanted to fall upon the hard bread on the table with
+ravenous appetites, with a silent gesture. Then she stood quietly
+beside the cradle, her right hand, which still held the axe with which
+she had cut the wood, hanging loosely by her side. Her face was gloomy,
+forbidding, and still a struggle was reflected on it.
+
+Paul Schlieben cleared his throat. He would have preferred some
+other person to have settled the matter for him, but, as this other
+person was not there and the vestryman only looked at him expectantly,
+he was compelled to speak. With an affability which might have been
+taken for condescension but which was nothing but embarrassment he
+said: "Frau Solheid, the vestryman will have told you what has brought
+us to you--do you understand me, my good woman?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"It's our intention to take your youngest child away with us"--he
+hesitated, for she had made a movement as though she wanted to deny
+it--"as our own, to adopt it. Do you understand?"
+
+She did not answer, but he continued with as much haste as if she
+had said yes. "We will treat it as if it really were our own. We shall
+be able to do more for it than you would, of course, and we----"
+
+"Oh, and we'll love it so," his wife broke in.
+
+The black-eyed woman turned her head slowly to the side where the
+fair-haired lady was standing. It was a peculiar look with which she
+scanned the stranger, who had now approached the cradle. Was it
+a scrutinising look or a forbidding one? A friendly or unfriendly
+one?
+
+Käte looked at the child with longing eyes. It was no longer crying,
+it even smiled, and now--now it stretched out its little arms. Oh, it
+was already so intelligent, it was looking at her, it noticed already
+that she was fond of it. It tried to get up--oh, it wanted to go to
+her, to her!
+
+Her face flushed with joy. She had already stretched out her hands
+to take the child, when its mother pushed herself in front of the
+cradle like a wall.
+
+"Neni,"[A] she said in Walloon, in a hard voice. She raised her
+empty left hand to ward Käte off. And then she made the sign of the
+cross on the child's forehead and then on its breast.
+
+
+
+[Footnote A: Non.]
+
+
+
+But why, why would she not give it all at once? Käte trembled with
+dismay. She cast an imploring look at her husband, as much as to say:
+"Help me. I must have the child."
+
+And then her husband said what he wanted to say before when his wife
+had cut him short: "We will secure your child's future. Do you know
+what that means, my good woman? It will never have to trouble about its
+daily bread--never have to hunger. Never have to work to prolong its
+life--only work for the pleasure of working. Do you understand?"
+
+Work--for the pleasure of working? The woman shook her head, she did
+not understand him. But then the words came into her mind: never
+hunger!--and a light shone in her dull eyes. Never hunger--ah, the
+woman understood that; and still she shook her head again: "Neni!"
+
+She pointed to herself and the other children, and then to the great
+Venn outside with a comprehensive gesture:
+
+"Nos avans tortos faim."[A] She shrugged her shoulders with the
+equanimity of one who is accustomed to it, and it even looked as though
+she wanted to smile; the corners of her sullen mouth did not droop
+quite so much, her lips that were generally tightly closed showed her
+strong healthy teeth.
+
+The vestryman stepped in now: "'Pon my word, Lisa, to hunger is
+surely no pleasure. Good heavens, how can you be so foolish! The child
+will be taken from hell to heaven. Remember what I've told you, the
+lady and gentleman are rich, very rich, and they are mad on the
+child--quick, give it to them, you still have four."
+
+Still four! She nodded reflectively, but then she threw her head
+back, and a look--now it was plain, something like hatred flickered in
+it--flew to the others standing there so rich, so fine, with rings on
+their ringers, and at whom her Jean-Pierre was peeping. "Neni!" She
+repeated it once more and still more curtly and more obstinately than
+before.
+
+But the vestryman was tenacious, he knew the people he had to deal
+with. "You must think it over," he said persuasively. "And they'll give
+you a good sum, I tell you--won't you?" he asked, turning to the
+gentleman. "Haven't you said you weren't particular to a coin or two
+in the case of such a poor woman?"
+
+"No, certainly not," assured Paul. And Käte was too precipitate
+again. "It does not matter at all to us--we will gladly give what she
+asks--oh, the dear child!"
+
+"Dju n' vous nin,"[B] muttered the woman.
+
+
+
+[Footnote A: Nous avons tous faim.]
+
+[Footnote B: Je ne veux pas.]
+
+
+
+"You won't? Oh, nonsense." The old peasant almost laughed at her.
+"You are just like my Mayflower when she won't stand, and kicks the
+milk-pail with her hind foot. Don't offend the people. What advantage
+will it be to you if they grow impatient and go away? None at
+all. Then you will have five who call out for bread, and the winter is
+near at hand. Do you want to have such a winter as you had last
+year? Didn't Jean-Pierre almost die of cold? The four others are
+already older, it's easier to rear them. And you can get a cow for
+yourself--just think of that, a cow. And you could have a better roof
+put on the house, which won't let the rain and the snow come through,
+and could have enough cranberries as well. It would certainly be a good
+stroke of business, Lisa."
+
+Käte wanted to add something more--oh, what a lot of good she would
+do the woman, if she would only give the child to her!--but the old man
+cleared his throat and winked at her covertly to warn her that she was
+to be silent.
+
+"Kubin m'e dinroz--ve?"[A] inquired the woman all at once.
+
+
+
+[Footnote A: Combien me donnerez-vous donc?]
+
+
+
+She had been standing undecided for a long time with her head bowed,
+and a deep silence had reigned around her. The strange lady and
+gentleman had not moved, nor had the vestryman; no wind had whistled in
+the chimney, no fire crackled. A silent expectation weighed on them
+all. Now she raised her head, and her gloomy eyes glanced at the
+miserable room, the small quantity of bread on the table and then at
+the hungry four, as though examining everything. She no longer looked
+at the fifth child. She had grown pale, the deep sunburn on her face
+had turned a greyish colour.
+
+"What's he going to give you? Well, what will you give her?" said the
+peasant encouragingly. "I think you'll see that two hundred is too
+little. The woman is very much attached to the child, it will not be
+easy for her to give it up." He watched Paul Schlieben out of the
+corner of his eye, and called out as they call out at an auction: "Two
+hundred, two hundred and fifty, three hundred. 'Pon my word, it
+isn't too much. Jean-Pierre is a fine boy--just look at his fists. And
+his thighs. A splendid fellow." He noticed the longing expression in
+Käte's eyes--"Three hundred thalers is not worth talking about for the
+boy, is it, ma'am?"
+
+Käte had tears in her eyes and was very pale. The air in the cottage
+oppressed her, it was all very repugnant to her--let them only get away
+quickly from there. But not without the child. "Four hundred--five
+hundred," she jerked out, and she gazed imploringly at her husband as
+though to say: "Do settle it quickly."
+
+"Five hundred, willingly." Paul Schlieben drew out his pocket-book.
+
+The peasant craned his neck forward the better to see. His eyes were
+quite stiff in his head, he had never seen anybody pay so willingly
+before. The children, too, stared with wide-open eyes.
+
+The woman cast a hasty glance at the notes the gentleman spread on
+the table near the bread; but the covetous light that flashed in her
+eyes disappeared suddenly again. "Neni," she said sullenly.
+
+"Offer her some more--more," whispered the old man.
+
+And Schlieben laid another couple of notes on the table beside the
+others; his fingers trembled a little as he did it, the whole thing was
+so unspeakably repugnant to him. He had never thought of haggling; they
+should have what they wanted, only let them get done with it.
+
+Nikolas Rocherath could not contain himself any longer at the sight
+of such generosity--so much money on the table, and that woman could
+still hesitate? He rushed up to her and shook her by the shoulders:
+"Are you quite mad? Six hundred thalers on the table and you don't take
+them? What man here can say he has six hundred thalers in cash? What
+money, what a sum of money!" His emaciated face, which had grown very
+haggard from years of toil and a life lived in wind and storm
+and which was as sharply outlined as though cut out of hard wood,
+twitched. His fingers moved convulsively: how was it possible that
+anybody could still hesitate?
+
+The axe which the woman still held fell out of her hand with a loud
+noise. Without raising her head, without looking at the table or at the
+cradle she said in a loud voice--but there was no ring in the voice:
+"Allons bon. Djhan-Pire est da vosse."[A]
+
+
+
+[Footnote A: Eh bien. Jean-Pierre est à vous.]
+
+
+
+And she turned away, walked to the hearth with a heavy tread and
+raked up the smouldering peat.
+
+What indifference! This woman certainly did not deserve to be a
+mother. Käte's gentle eyes began to blaze. Schlieben was angry too; no,
+they need not have any scruples about taking the child away from there.
+He was filled with disgust.
+
+The woman behaved now as though the whole affair did not concern her
+any longer. She busied herself at the hearth whilst the vestryman
+counted the notes--licking his fingers repeatedly and examining both
+sides of each one--and then put them carefully into the envelope which
+the gentleman had given him.
+
+"There they are, Lisa, put them into your pocket."
+
+She tore them out of his hand with a violent gesture, and, lifting
+up her dress to a good height, she slipped them into her miserable
+ragged petticoat.
+
+The last thing had still to be settled. Even if Paul Schlieben felt
+certain that nobody there would inquire about the child any more,
+the formalities had to be observed. Loosening his pencil from his
+watch-chain--for where was ink to come from there?--he drew up the
+mother's deed of surrender on a leaf from his pocketbook. The vestryman
+signed it as witness. Then the woman put her three crosses
+below; she had learnt to write once, but had forgotten it again.
+
+"There!" Paul Schlieben rose from the hard bench on which he had sat
+whilst writing with a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, now everything
+was settled, now the vestryman had only to procure him the birth and
+baptismal certificates and send them to him. "Here--this is my address.
+And here--this is for any outlay." He covertly pressed a couple of gold
+coins into the old man's hand, who smiled when he felt them there.
+
+Well, now they would take the boy with them at once? he
+supposed.
+
+Käte, who had been standing motionless staring at the mother with
+big eyes as though she could not understand what she saw, woke up. Of
+course they would take the child with them at once, she would not leave
+it a single hour longer there. And she took it quickly out of the
+cradle, pressed it caressingly to her bosom and wrapped it up in the
+warm wide cloak she was wearing. Now it was her child that she had
+fought such a hard battle for, had snatched from thousands of dangers,
+her darling, her sweet little one.
+
+Little Jean-Pierre's sister and brothers stood there in silence with
+eyes wide open. Had they understood that their brother was going away,
+going for ever? No, they could not have understood it, otherwise they
+would have shown how grieved they were. Their big eyes were only
+interested in the bread on the table.
+
+Paul Schlieben pitied the little ones greatly--they would remain
+there in their wretchedness, their hunger, their poverty. He stuck a
+present into the hands of all four. None of the four thanked him for
+it, but their small fingers clasped the money tightly.
+
+The woman did not thank him either. When the strange lady took
+Jean-Pierre out of the cradle--she had seen it without looking
+in that direction--she had started. But now she stood motionless near
+the empty cradle, on the spot where the axe had fallen out of her right
+hand before with a loud noise, looking on in silence whilst Jean-Pierre
+was being wrapped up in the soft cloak. She had nothing to give
+him.
+
+Paul Schlieben had feared there would be a scene at the very last in
+spite of the mother's indifference--she surely could not remain so
+totally void of feeling, when they carried her youngest child away
+with them?--but the woman remained calm. She stood there motionless,
+her left hand pressed against the place in her skirt where she
+felt the pocket. Did not that money in her pocket--Paul felt very
+disturbed--give the lie to all the traditions about a mother's love?
+And still--the woman was so demoralised by her great poverty, half
+brutalised in the hard struggle for her daily bread, that even the
+feeling she had for the child she had borne had vanished. Oh, what a
+different mother Käte would be to the child now. And he pushed his
+wife, who had the little one in her arms, towards the door, in his
+tender anxiety for her.
+
+Let them only get away, it was not a nice place to be in.
+
+They hastened away. Käte turned her head once more when she reached
+the threshold. She would have to cast a glance at the woman who
+remained behind so stiff and silent. Even if she were incomprehensible
+to her, a compassionate glance was her due.
+
+Then ... a short cry, but loud, penetrating, terrible in its
+brevity, a cry that went through nerve and bone. One single
+inarticulate cry that agony and hatred had wrung from her.
+
+The woman had stooped down. She had snatched up the axe with which
+she had chopped the wood. She raised her arm as though to throw
+something--the sharp edge flashed past the lady's head as she hurried
+away, and buried itself in the door-post with a crash.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+They had hastened away with the child as though they were running away.
+They had bundled it into the carriage--quick, quick--the coachman had
+whipped up the horses, the wheels had turned round with a creaking
+noise. The village in the Venn remained behind them, buried like a bad
+dream one wants to forget.
+
+A dull grey lay over the Venn. The sun, which had been shining in
+the morning, had quite disappeared, as though not a single beam had
+ever been seen there. The Venn mist, which rises so suddenly, was there
+covering everything. There was a wall now where there had been a wide
+outlook before. A wall not of stone and not of bricks, but much
+stronger. It did not crack, it did not burst, it did not totter, it did
+not give way before the hammer wielded by the strongest hand. It shaped
+itself out of the morasses, powerful and impenetrable, and stretched
+from the moor up to the clouds--or was it the clouds that had lowered
+themselves to the earth?
+
+The heavens and the Venn, both alike. Nothing but grey, a tough,
+damp, cold, liquid and still firm, unfathomable, mysterious, awful
+grey. A grey from which those who lose themselves on the moor never
+find their way out. The mist is too tenacious. It has arms that grip,
+that embrace so tightly, that one can neither see forward nor backward
+any more, neither to the left nor to the right, that the cry
+that wants to escape from a throat that is well-nigh choked with terror
+is drowned, and that the eye becomes blind to every road, every
+footprint.
+
+The driver cursed and beat his horses. There was nothing more to be
+seen of the road, nothing whatever, no ditch at the side of it, no
+telegraph poles, no small rowan trees. The broad road that had been
+made with such difficulty had disappeared in the grey that enfolded the
+Venn. It was fortunate that the horses had not lost their way as yet.
+They followed their noses, shook their long tails, neighed shrilly and
+trotted courageously into the sea of mist.
+
+Käte shuddered as she wrapped herself and the child up more tightly;
+they required all the warm covering now which they had taken with them
+so providently. Her husband packed her up still more securely, and then
+laid his arm round her as though to protect her. It was a terrible
+journey.
+
+They had had the carriage closed, but the cold grey forced its way
+in notwithstanding. It penetrated through all the crevices, through the
+window-panes, filled the space inside so that their faces swam in the
+damp twilight like pale spots, and laid itself heavily, obstructively
+on their breath.
+
+Käte coughed and then trembled. There was no joy in her heart now,
+all she felt was terror, terror on account of the possession she had
+had to fight so hard to obtain. If the mother were to come after them
+now--oh, that terrible woman with the glittering axe. She closed
+her eyes tightly, full of a horror she had never felt the like to
+before--oh, she could not see it again! And still she opened her eyes
+wide once more, and felt the cold perspiration on her brow and her
+heart trembling--alas, that sight would pursue her even in her dreams.
+She would not get rid of it until her last hour--never, never
+again--she would always see that woman with the glittering axe.
+
+It had whizzed close past her head--the draught of air caused by it
+had made the hair on her temples tremble. It had done nothing to her,
+it had only buried itself in the door-post with a loud noise, splitting
+it. And still she had come to harm. Käte pressed both her hands to her
+temples in horror: she would never, never get rid of that fear.
+
+Her heart was filled with an almost superstitious dread, a dread as
+though of a ghost that haunted the place. Let them only get away from
+there, never to return. Let them only destroy every trace as they went
+along. That woman must never know where they had gone. She knew
+it was to Berlin--they had unfortunately given the vestryman their
+address--but Berlin was so far away, the woman from the Venn would
+never come there.
+
+And the Venn itself? Ugh! Käte looked out into the grey mist,
+trembling with horror. Thank God, that would remain behind, that would
+soon be forgotten again. How could she ever have considered this
+desolate Venn beautiful? She could not understand it. What charm was
+there about these inhospitable plains, on which nothing could grow
+except the coarse grass and tough heather? On which no corn waved its
+spikes, no singing-bird piped its little song, no happy people lived
+sociably; where there was, in short, no brightness, no loud tones, only
+the silence of the dead and crosses along the road. It was awful
+there.
+
+"Paul, let us leave to-day--as quickly as possible," she jerked out,
+full of terror, whilst her eyes sought in vain for a glimpse of
+light.
+
+He was quite willing. He felt ill at ease too. If this woman, this
+fury, had hit his wife in her sudden outburst of rage? But he
+could not help blaming himself: who had bade him have anything to do
+with such people? They were not a match for such barbarous folk.
+
+And he was seized with a feeling of aversion for the child sleeping
+so peacefully on his wife's arm. He looked gloomily at the little face;
+would he ever be able to love it? Would not the memory of its
+antecedents always deter him from liking it? Yes, he had been too
+precipitate. How much better it would have been if he had dissuaded his
+wife from her wish, if he had energetically opposed her romantic idea
+of adopting this child, this particular child.
+
+He frowned as he looked out of the window, whilst the grey mist
+clung to the pane and ran down it in large drops.
+
+The wind howled outside; it had risen all at once. And it howled
+still louder the nearer they approached the top of the high Venn,
+whined round their carriage like an angry dog and hurled itself against
+the horses' chests. The horses had to fight against it, to slacken
+their trot; the carriage only advanced with difficulty.
+
+The child must never, never know from whence it came, as
+otherwise--the new father was wrapped in thought as he stared into the
+Venn, whose wall of mist was now and then torn asunder by a furious
+gust of wind--as otherwise--what was he going to say? He passed his
+hand over his brow and drew his breath heavily. Something like fear
+crept over him, but he did not know why.
+
+As he cast a look at his wife, he saw that she was quite absorbed in
+the contemplation of the sleeping child, which did not lessen his ill
+humour. He drew away her right hand, with which she was supporting its
+head that had fallen back: "Don't do that, don't tire yourself like
+that. It will sleep on even without that." And as she gave an anxious
+"Hush!" terrified at the thought that the little sleeper might
+have been disturbed, he said emphatically, "I must tell you one thing,
+my child, and must warn you against it, don't give him your whole heart
+at once--wait a little first."
+
+"Why?" Something in his voice struck her and she looked at him in
+surprise. "Why do you say that so--so--well, as if you were vexed?"
+Then she laughed in happy forgetfulness. "Do you know--yes, it was
+horrible, awful in those surroundings--but thank God, now it's over. A
+mother forgets all she has suffered at the birth of her child so
+quickly--why should I not forget those horrors to-day too? Do
+look"--and she stroked little Jean-Pierre's warm rosy cheek carefully
+and caressingly as he slept--"how innocent, how lovely. I am so happy.
+Come, do be happy too, Paul, you are generally so very kind. And now
+let's think about what we are to call the boy"--her voice was very
+tender--"our boy."
+
+They no longer heard the wind that had increased to a storm by now.
+They had so much to consider. "Jean-Pierre," no, that name should not
+be kept in any case. And they would go from Spa to Cologne that
+evening, as they would not dare to engage a nurse before they were
+there; not a single person there would have any idea about the Venn, of
+course. And they would also buy all the things they required for the
+child in Cologne as soon as possible.
+
+How were they to get on until then? Paul looked at his wife quite
+anxiously: she knew nothing whatever about little children. But she
+laughed at him and gave herself airs: when Providence gives you
+something to do, it also gives you the necessary understanding. And
+this little darling was so good, he had not uttered a sound since they
+left. He had slept the whole time as though there was nothing called
+hunger or thirst, as though there was nothing but her heart on
+which he felt quite at ease.
+
+It gradually became more comfortable in the carriage. It seemed as
+though a beneficial warmth streamed forth from the child's body, as it
+rested there so quietly. The breath of life ascended from its strong
+little chest that rose and fell so regularly; the joy of life glowed in
+its cheeks that were growing redder and redder; the blessings of life
+dropped from those tiny hands that it had clenched in its sleep. The
+woman mused in silence and with bated breath as she gazed at the child
+in her lap, and the man, who felt strangely moved, took its tiny fist
+in his large hand and examined it, smiling. Yes, now they were
+parents.
+
+But outside the carriage the air was full of horrors. It is only in
+the wild Venn that there can be such storms in autumn. Summer does not
+depart gently and sadly there, winter does not approach with soft,
+stealthy steps, there is no mild preparatory transition. The bad
+weather sets in noisily there, and the warmth of summer changes
+suddenly into the icy cold of winter. The storm whistles so fiercely
+across the brown plateau that the low heather bends still lower and the
+small juniper trees make themselves still smaller. The wind in the Venn
+chases along whistling and shrieking, clamouring and howling, pries
+into the quagmires and turf pits, whips up the muddy puddles, throws
+itself forcibly into the thickets of fir trees that have just been
+replanted, so that they groan and moan and creak as they cower, and
+then rages on round the weather-worn crosses.
+
+The blast roars across the moor like the sound of an organ or is it
+like the roar of the foaming breakers? No, there is no water there that
+rises and falls and washes the beach with its white waves, there is
+nothing but the Venn; but it resembles the sea in its wide expanse.
+And its air is as strong as the air that blows from the sea, and
+the shrill scream of its birds is like the scream of the sea-mew, and
+nature plays--here as there--the song of her omnipotence on the organ
+of the storm with powerful touch.
+
+The small carriage crept over the top of the high Venn. The winds
+wanted to blow it down, as though it were a tiny beetle. They hurled
+themselves against it, more and more furiously, yelped and howled as
+though they were wolves, whined round its wheels, snuffed round its
+sides, made a stand against it in front and tugged at it from behind as
+though with greedy teeth: away with it! And away with those sitting
+inside it! Those intruders, those thieves, they were taking something
+away with them that belonged to the Venn, to the great Venn alone.
+
+It was a struggle. Although the driver lashed away at them the brave
+horses shied, then remained standing, snorting with terror. The man was
+obliged to jump off and lead them some distance, and still they
+continued to tremble.
+
+Something rose out of the pits and beckoned with waving gauzy
+garments, and tried to hold fast with moist arms. There was a
+snatching, a catching, a reaching, a tearing asunder of mists and a
+treacherous rolling together again, a chaos of whirling, twirling,
+brewing grey vapours; and plaintive tones from beings that could not be
+seen.
+
+Had all those in the graves come to life again? Were those rising
+who had slept there, wakened by the snorting of the horses and the
+crack of the whip, indignant at being disturbed in their rest? What
+were those sounds?
+
+The quiet Venn had become alive. Piercing sounds and whistling
+shrill cries and groaning and the flapping of wings and
+indignant screams mingled with the dull roar of the organ of the
+storm.
+
+A flight of birds swam through the sea of mist. They rowed to the
+right, they rowed to the left, looked down uneasily at the strange
+carriage, remained poised above it for some moments with wings spread
+out ready to strike it to the ground, and then uttered their cry, the
+startled, penetrating cry of a wild bird. There was nothing triumphant
+about it to-day--it sounded like a lamentation.
+
+And the Venn wept. Large drops fell from the mist. The mist itself
+turned into tears, to slowly falling and then to rushing, streaming,
+never-ending tears.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+The Schliebens had reached Berlin safely. Käte was exhausted when she
+got out of the train; her hair was untidy, she did not look quite so
+smart as usual. It had been no trifle to make that long journey with
+the child. But they had been fortunate hi finding a good nurse so
+quickly in Cologne--a widow, fond of children and experienced, a
+typical, comfortable-looking nurse; however, the mother had had enough
+to see to all the same. Had the child caught cold, or did it not like
+its bottle? It had cried with all the strength of its lungs--no
+carrying about, rocking, dandling, singing to it had been of any
+avail--it had cried with all its might the whole way to Berlin.
+
+But, thank goodness, now they were at home. And everything was
+arranged as quickly as if by magic. True, the comfortable house they
+had had before was let, but there was villa after villa in the
+Grunewald, and, as they required so much more room now, they moved into
+one of those. They rented it to begin with. Later on they would no
+doubt buy it, as it was quite impossible to take a child like this one
+into a town. It would have to have a garden.
+
+They called him Wolfgang. "Wolf" had something so concise, vigorous,
+energetic about it, and--Käte gave a slight happy shudder as she
+thought of it--it was like a secret memory of the Venn, of that
+desolate spot over which they had triumphed, and to which they made
+only this slight concession. And did not "Wölfchen"--if they made that
+the diminutive of Wolf--sound extremely affectionate?
+
+"Wölfchen"--the young mother said it about a hundred times every
+day.
+
+The young mother? Oh yes, Käte felt young. Her child had made her
+young again, quite young. Nobody would have taken her for thirty-five,
+and she herself least of all. How she could run, how she could fly
+upstairs when they said: "The child is awake. It's screaming for its
+bottle."
+
+She, who had formerly spent so many hours on the sofa, never found a
+moment's time to lie down the whole day; she slept all the more soundly
+at night as a result. It was quite true what she had heard other women
+say: a little child claims its mother's whole attention. Oh, how empty,
+colourless those days had been in which she had only existed. It was
+only now that there was meaning, warmth, brilliancy in her life.
+
+She walked every day beside the child's perambulator, which the
+nurse pushed, and it was a special pleasure to her to wheel the light
+little carriage with its white lacquer, gilt buttons and blue silk
+curtains herself now and then. How the people stared and turned round
+when they saw the handsome perambulator--no, the beautiful child. Her
+heart beat with pleasure, and when her flattered ear caught the cries
+of admiration, "What a fine child!" "How beautifully dressed!" "What
+splendid eyes!"--it used to beat even more quickly, and a feeling of
+blissful pride took possession of her, so that she walked along with
+head erect and eyes beaming with happiness. Everybody took her to be
+the mother, of course, the young child's young mother, the beautiful
+child's beautiful mother. How often strangers had already
+spoken to her of the likeness: "The exact image of you, Frau Schlieben,
+only its hair is darker than yours." Then she had smiled every time and
+blushed deeply. She could not tell the people that it really could not
+resemble her at all. She hardly remembered herself now that not a drop
+of her blood flowed in Wölfchen's veins.
+
+It looked at her the first thing when it awoke. Its little bed with
+its muslin curtains stood near the nurse's, but its first look was for
+its mother and also its last, for nobody knew how to sing it to sleep
+as well as she did.
+
+           "Sleep sound, sweetest child,
+            Yonder wind howls wild.
+            Hearken, how the rain makes sprays
+            And how neighbour's doggie bays.
+            Doggie has gripped the man forlorn
+            Has the beggar's tatter torn----"
+
+sounded softly and soothingly in the nursery evening after evening,
+and little Wolf fell quietly asleep to the sound of it, to the song of
+the wind and the rain round defenceless heads, and of beggars whose
+garments the dog had torn.
+
+Paul Schlieben had no longer any cause to complain of his wife's
+moods. Everything had changed; her health, too, had become new, as it
+were, as though a second life had begun. And he himself? He felt much
+more inclination for work now. Now that he had returned to business he
+felt a pleasure he had never experienced before when he saw that they
+were successful in their new ventures. He had never been enterprising
+before--what was the good? He and his wife had ample for all their
+requirements. Of course he had always been glad to hear when they had
+done a good stroke of business, but he could not say it had ever
+pleased him to make money. He had always found more pleasure in
+spending it.
+
+His father had been quite different in that respect. He had never
+been so easy-going, and as long as he lived he had always reproached
+himself for having let his only son serve as a soldier in a cavalry
+regiment. Something of a cavalryman's extravagance had clung to him,
+which did not exactly agree with the views of the very respectable
+well-to-do merchant of the middle class. And his daughter-in-law? Hm,
+the old gentleman did not exactly approve of her either in his heart.
+She had too much modern stuff in her head, and Paul had followed her
+lead entirely. You could be cultured--why not?--and also take an
+interest in art without necessarily having so little understanding for
+the real things of life.
+
+This honest man, this merchant of the old stamp and true son of
+Berlin, had not had the joy of seeing what his partners now saw with
+unbounded astonishment. They had no need to shrug their shoulders at
+the man's lack of interest in the business any longer, and make pointed
+remarks about the wife who took up his attention so entirely; now he
+felt the interest they wished him to have. He was pleased to fall in
+with their plans now. He himself seemed to want, nay, even found it
+necessary to form new connections, to extend the calm routine of their
+business right and left, on all sides. He showed a capacity for
+business and became practical all at once. And in the middle of his
+calculations, whilst sitting absorbed at his desk, he would catch
+himself thinking: "that will be of use to the boy in the future." But
+at times this thought could irritate him so much that he would throw
+down his pen and jump up angrily from his desk: no, he had only adopted
+the child to please his wife, he would not love him.
+
+And yet when he came home to dinner on those delightful afternoons,
+on which he could smell the pines round his house and the pure
+air still more increased the appetite he had got from his strenuous
+work, and the boy would toddle up to him patting his little stomach and
+cry: "Daddy--eat--taste good," and Käte appear at the window, laughing,
+he could not refrain from swinging the hungry little chatterbox high up
+into the air, and only put him down on his feet again after he had
+given him a friendly slap. He was a splendid little chap, and always
+hungry. Well, he would always have sufficient to eat, thank God.
+
+A certain feeling of contentment would come over the man on those
+occasions. He felt now what he had never felt before, that one's own
+home means happiness. And he felt the benefit of having an assured
+income, that allowed him to enrich his life with all sorts of comforts.
+The house was pretty. But when he bought it shortly he would certainly
+add to it, and buy the piece of ground next to it as well. It would be
+extremely disagreeable if anybody settled down just under their
+noses.
+
+It had been difficult for Paul to make up his mind to take a house
+in the Grunewald at the time, after he had lived in Berlin itself as
+long as he could remember. But now he looked upon his wife's idea of
+going out there as a very good one. And not only for the child's sake.
+One enjoyed one's home in quite a different manner out there; one
+realised much more what it meant to have a home. And how much healthier
+it was--one's appetite certainly became enormous. In time one would
+think of nothing but material comforts. And the man followed the hungry
+boy into the house, as he also felt quite ready for his dinner.
+
+Wolfgang Solheid, called Schlieben, received his first trousers. It
+was a grand day for the whole house. Käte had him photographed in
+secret, as there had never been a boy who looked prettier in
+his first trousers. And she placed the picture of the little fellow who
+was not yet three years old--white trousers, white pleated tunic, horse
+under his arm, whip in his hand--in the middle of her husband's
+birthday table, surrounded by a wreath of roses. That was the best she
+could give him among all the many presents. How robust Wölfchen was.
+They had not noticed it so much before; he was as big as a boy of four.
+And how defiant he looked, as bold as a boy of five, who is already
+dreaming of fighting other boys.
+
+The woman showed the man the picture full of delight, and there was
+such a gleam in her eyes that he felt very happy. He thanked her many
+times for the surprise and kissed her: yes, this picture should stand
+near hers on his writing-table. And then they both played with the boy,
+who romped about on the carpet in his first pair of trousers, which he
+still found rather uncomfortable.
+
+Paul Schlieben could not remember ever having spent such a pleasant
+birthday as this one. There was so much brightness around him, so much
+merriment. And even if Wolf had torn his first pair of trousers by
+noon--how and where it had been done was quite incomprehensible to the
+dismayed nurse--that did not disturb the birthday; on the contrary, the
+laughter became all the gayer. "Tear your trousers, my boy, tear away,"
+whispered his mother, smiling to herself as the damage was pointed out
+to her, "just you be happy and strong."
+
+There was a party in the evening. The windows of the pretty villa
+were lighted up and the garden as well. The air was balmy, the pines
+spread their branches motionless under the starry sky, and bright
+coloured lanterns glittered in the bushes and along the paths that were
+overgrown with trees like large glow-worms.
+
+Wölfchen was asleep on the first floor of the villa, in the
+only room that was not brightly lighted up. There was nothing but a
+hanging lamp of opal there, and every noise was kept away by thick
+curtains and Venetian blinds. But they drank his health downstairs.
+
+The guests had already drunk the health of the master of the house
+at the table, and then that of his amiable wife--what greater honour
+could they pay their popular host and hostess now than to drink the
+health of the boy--their boy?
+
+Dr. Hofmann, the tried doctor and friend of the family for many
+years, asked if he might have the privilege of saying a few words.
+He, as doctor, as counsellor on many an occasion, was best able
+to say what had always been wanting there. Everything had been
+there, love and complete understanding and also outward happiness,
+everything except--here he paused for a moment and nodded to his
+hostess who was sitting opposite to him, in a friendly manner full of
+comprehension--except a child's laughter. And now that was there too.
+
+"A child's laughter--oh, what a salvation!" he cried with twinkling
+eyes and voice full of emotion, as he thought of his own three, who
+were certainly already independent and had chosen their paths in life,
+but their laughter still sounded in his heart and ear.
+
+"No child--no happiness. But a child brings happiness, great
+happiness. And especially in this case. For I, as a doctor, have hardly
+ever feasted my eyes on a more magnificent chest, a more splendidly
+developed skull, straighter legs and brighter eyes. All his senses are
+sharp; the lad hears like a lynx, sees like a falcon, smells like a
+stag, feels--well, I've been told that he is already up in arms against
+the slightest corporal punishment. It is only his taste that is not so
+finely developed as yet--the boy eats everything. However, this is
+again a new proof to me of his very great physical superiority,
+for, ladies and gentlemen"--at this point the doctor gave a jovial
+wink--"who does not agree with me? a good stomach that can stand
+everything is the greatest gift a kind Providence can give us on our
+journey through life. The boy is a favourite of fortune. A favourite of
+fortune in the two-fold meaning of the word for not only is he
+perfectly happy in himself, but his entry on the scene has also brought
+happiness to those around him. Our dear hostess, for example, have we
+ever seen her like this before? So young with those who are young, so
+happy with those who are happy? And our honoured friend here--nobody
+could imagine that he had climbed to the middle of the forties--he is
+as full of energy, of plans and enterprise as a man of twenty. And at
+the same time he has the beautiful calm, the comfortable appearance of
+the happy father who has had his desires gratified. And this fortunate
+boy is the cause of it all. Therefore thanks be to the hour that gave
+him, the wind that brought him here. From whence----?"
+
+The doctor, who had a small vein of malice in his nature, here made
+a pause intentionally, cleared his throat and straightened his
+waistcoat, for he saw many curious eyes fixed on him full of
+expectation. But he also saw the quick perturbed look the husband and
+wife exchanged, saw that Frau Schlieben had grown pale and was hanging
+anxiously, almost imploringly, on his lips, so he continued hastily
+with a good-natured laugh: "From whence, ladies--only have patience.
+I'll tell you now: he fell from the skies. Just as the falling star
+falls to earth on a summer night. And our dear hostess, who was just
+going for a walk, held out her apron and carried him home to her house.
+And so he has become the star of this house, and we all and I
+especially--even if I have become superfluous here in my capacity
+of doctor--are pleased with him without asking from whence he came.
+All good gifts come from above--we learnt that already in our
+childhood--so here's to the health of the boy who fell down to our
+friends from the sky."
+
+The doctor had grown serious, there was a certain solemnity about
+him as he raised his champagne glass and emptied it: "God bless him! To
+the health of the child, the son of the house. May this fortunate lad
+grow, thrive and prosper."
+
+The finely cut glasses gave a clear and melodious sound as they
+clinked them. There was a buzzing, laughter and cheering at the table,
+so that the little fellow upstairs in his bed began to toss about
+restlessly. He murmured impatiently in his sleep, pouted and lowered
+his brow.
+
+The chairs were moved downstairs. The guests had risen, and, going
+up to the parents, had shaken hands with them as though to congratulate
+them. Dr. Hofmann had done that really very nicely, really exceedingly
+well. But the little fellow was awfully sweet. All the women present
+agreed they had rarely seen such a pretty child.
+
+Käte's heart had beaten a little anxiously when the doctor commenced
+to speak--surely he would not betray what had only been confided to him
+and the lawyer under the influence of a good glass of wine and a good
+dinner?--but it was now full of happiness. Her eyes sought her
+husband's, and sent him tender, grateful glances covertly. And then she
+went to their old friend, the doctor, and thanked him for all his good,
+kind words. "Also in Wölfchen's name," she said in a soft, cordial
+voice.
+
+"So you are satisfied with me all the same? Well, I'm glad." He drew
+her arm into his and walked up and down with her somewhat apart
+from the others. "I saw, my dear lady, that you grew uneasy when I
+began about the boy's antecedents. What kind of an opinion can you have
+of me? But I did so intentionally, I have been burning to find
+an opportunity to say what I did for a long time. Believe me, if
+I got a two-shilling bit every time I've been questioned about the
+boy's parentage--either openly or in a roundabout way--I should be a
+well-to-do man by now. I've often felt annoyed at the questions; what I
+said just now was the answer to them all. I trust they have understood
+it. They can keep their surmises to themselves in the future."
+
+"Surmises?" Käte knit her brows and pressed the doctor's arm. What
+did those people surmise?--did they already know something, did they
+guess about the Venn? She was seized with a sudden terror. Pictures
+passed before her mental vision with lightning speed--there in that
+bright festive room--dark pictures of which she did not want to know
+anything more.
+
+"How terrible," she said in a low voice that quivered. If the people
+got to know anything, oh, then she did not put her thought into words,
+for the sudden dread was almost choking her--then they would not get
+rid of the past. Then that woman would come and demand her right, and
+could not be shaken off any more. "Do you think," she whispered
+hesitatingly, "do you think they--they guess--the truth?"
+
+"Oh no, they're very far off the mark," laughed the doctor, but then
+he grew grave again directly. "My dear lady, let us leave those people
+and their surmises alone." Oh dear, now he had meddled with a delicate
+subject, he felt quite hot--what if she knew that they thought that her
+Paul, that most faithful of husbands, had duties of a special kind
+towards the child?
+
+"Surmises--oh, what is it they surmise?" She urged him to
+tell her, whilst her eyes scrutinised his, full of terror.
+
+"Nonsense," he said curtly. "Why do you want to trouble about that?
+But I told you and your husband that at once. If you make such a secret
+of the boy's parentage, all kinds of interpretations will be placed on
+it. Well, you would not hear of anything else."
+
+"No." Käte closed her eyes and gave a slight shudder. "He's our
+child--our child alone," she said with a strange hardness in her voice.
+"And nobody else has anything to do with him."
+
+He shook his head and looked at her questioningly, surprised at her
+tone.
+
+Then she jerked out: "I'm afraid."
+
+He felt how the hand that was lying on his arm trembled
+slightly.
+
+Amid the gaiety of the evening something had fallen on Käte's joy
+that paralysed it, as it were. Many questions were asked her about
+little Wolf--that was so natural, they showed her their friendly
+interest by means of these questions--and they watched her quietly at
+the same time: it was marvellous how she behaved. They had hardly
+believed the delicate woman capable of such heroism. How much she must
+love her husband, that she took his child--for the boy must be his
+child, the resemblance was too marked, exactly the same features, the
+same dark hair--this child of a weak hour to her heart without showing
+any ill-will or jealousy. She, the childless woman, to take another
+woman's child. That was grand, almost too grand. They did not
+understand it quite.
+
+And Käte felt instinctively that there was something concealed
+behind the questions they asked her--was it admiration or compassion,
+approval or disapproval?--something one could not get hold of, not even
+name, only suspect. And that embarrassed her. So she only gave
+reserved answers to their friendly questions about Wölfchen, was
+concise in what she told them, cool in her tone, and still she could
+not hinder her voice vibrating secretly. That was the tender happiness
+she felt, the mother's pride she could not suppress, the warmth of her
+feelings, which lent her voice its undertone of emotion. The others
+took if for quite a different emotion.
+
+The ladies, who took a walk in the garden after the dinner was over,
+were chatting confidentially together. The paths that smelt of the
+pines and in which the coloured lanterns gave a gentle subdued light
+were just suitable for that. They wandered about in twos and threes,
+arm in arm, and first of all looked carefully to see if there were any
+listeners, for their hostess must on no account hear it. There was
+hardly one among the ladies who had not made her observations. How well
+she bore up. It was really pathetic to see how resentment and
+affection, dislike and warmth struggled to get the mastery as soon as
+there was any talk about the child. And how a restless look would steal
+into her bright eyes--ah, she must have had and still have much to
+contend with, poor thing.
+
+There was only one lady there who said she had known Paul Schlieben
+much too long and well not to feel sure that it was ridiculous--nay,
+even monstrous--to suppose he would do such a thing. He who was always
+such a perfect gentleman, not only in his outward behaviour and
+appearance but also in his thoughts, he, the most faithful of husbands,
+who even now, after a long married life, was as much in love with his
+wife as though they had just been married. The thing was quite
+different. They had always wished for children, what was more natural
+than that they should adopt one, now that they had finally
+given up all hope? Did not other people do the same?
+
+Of course that happened, there was no doubt about it. But then the
+particulars were always given as to whether it was an orphan or the
+illegitimate offspring of some one moving in the highest circles,
+whether it had been offered in the newspaper--"to be given away to
+noble-minded people"--or whether it was the child of a girl who had
+been left in the lurch or the unwished-for child of parents belonging
+to the labouring classes, who had already been too richly blessed with
+children, and so on. Something at least was always known about it. But
+in this case why was such a secret made of it? Why did they not say
+openly: we have got it from there or there, it happened in such and
+such a manner?
+
+It was difficult to question Frau Schlieben quite openly about the
+little one's parentage. They had already gone to her once with that
+intention, but as soon as they had introduced the subject such a
+terrified expression had come into the woman's eyes, something so shy
+and reserved into her manner, that it would have been more than
+tactless to continue the conversation. They were compelled to desist
+from questioning her--but it was peculiar, very peculiar.
+
+And the gentlemen in the smoking-room, whom the host had left alone
+for a moment, discussed the same theme. The doctor was catechised.
+
+"I say, doctor, your speech was excellent, worthy of a diplomatist,
+but you can't deceive us. You don't know anything about the little
+chap's antecedents either? Now come!" It especially puzzled both
+partners that Schlieben had told them so little. When everything under
+the sun was discussed in business, one had also a certain right to know
+the man's private affairs too, especially as they had already worked
+with the old gentleman. Where would Paul have been now, if they
+two had not safeguarded his interests so energetically at the time when
+he put everything else before business? Herr Meier, who was already
+elderly and very corpulent, and whose good-natured, intelligent face
+bore signs of his fondness for a glass of wine, felt really very hurt
+at such a want of confidence: "As though we should have placed any
+difficulties in the way--absurd! Doctor, just tell us one thing. Did he
+get the boy here?"
+
+But the other partner, Herr Bormann, who was somewhat choleric and
+had to go to Carlsbad every year, interrupted him sharply. "Well,
+really, Meier! And what's it to us? They say they have brought him with
+them from their last journey, when they were away so long--good. Where
+were they last? They went from Switzerland to the Black Forest and then
+to Spa, didn't they?"
+
+"No, to the North Sea," said the doctor quietly. "You can see it as
+well, the boy has quite the Frisian type."
+
+"That boy? With his black eyes?" No, there was nothing to be got out
+of Hofmann. He looked so innocent that you might have thought he was
+speaking seriously instead of joking. Aha, he had taken his stand; he
+had made up his mind not to say anything. They would have to let the
+subject drop.
+
+The doctor, who had already taxed himself with stupidity in his
+heart--oh dear, now he had aroused everybody's curiosity instead of
+helping the Schliebens--heard the gentlemen pass on to politics with
+great relief.
+
+It was midnight before the last guests left the villa. Their bright
+talk and laughter could still be heard distinctly from the end of the
+street in the silence of the night, as husband and wife met at the foot
+of the stairs leading up to the first floor.
+
+All the windows of the lower rooms were still open, the silver was
+still on the table, the costly china stood about--let the servants put
+it away for the time being. Käte felt a great longing to see the child.
+She had seen so little of him that day--there had been visitors the
+whole day. And then what a number of questions she had had to listen
+to, what a number of answers she had had to give. Her head was
+burning.
+
+As she and her husband met--the man was hurrying out of his room, he
+had not even given himself time to lock away the cigars--she had to
+laugh: aha, he wanted to go upstairs too. She hung on his arm and they
+went up together keeping step.
+
+"To Wölfchen," she said softly, pressing his arm. And he said, as
+though excusing himself: "I shall have to see if the noise has not
+awakened the boy."
+
+They spoke in an undertone and moved along cautiously like thieves.
+They stole into the nursery--there he lay, so quietly. He had thrown
+off the covering in his sleep so that his naked rosy little legs were
+visible, and a warm, strong and wonderfully fresh smell ascended from
+the child's clean healthy body and mingled with the powerful odour of
+the pines, that the night sent into the room through the slightly open
+window.
+
+Käte could not restrain herself, she bent down and kissed the little
+knee that showed dimples in its firm roundness. As she looked up again,
+she saw her husband's eyes fixed on the sleeping child with a
+thoughtful expression.
+
+She was so used to knowing everything that affected him, that she
+asked, "What are you thinking of, Paul? Does anything trouble you?"
+
+He looked at her absently for a few moments and then past her; he
+was so lost in thought that he had not heard her question at all. At
+last he murmured, "I wonder if it would not be better to be
+open about it? Hm." Then he shook his head and thoughtfully stroked his
+beard into a point.
+
+"What are you saying? What do you mean? Paul!" She laid her hand on
+his.
+
+That aroused him. He smiled at her and said then: "Käte, we must
+tell people the truth. Why shouldn't we say where he comes from? Yes,
+yes, it's much better, otherwise I fear we shall have a good deal of
+unpleasantness. And if the boy does find out in good time that he is
+not really our child--I mean our own child--what does it matter?"
+
+"Good gracious!" She threw up her hands as though horrified.
+"No--not for the world--no! Never, never!" She sank down on the bed,
+spread both her arms over the child's body as though protecting it, and
+nestled her head on the warm little breast. "Then he would be lost to
+us, Paul."
+
+She took a deep breath and trembled. Her voice expressed such
+horror, such a terrible fear and prophetic gravity that it startled the
+man.
+
+"I only thought--I mean--I have really long felt it to be my duty,"
+he said hesitatingly, as though making a stand against her fear. "I
+don't like that the--that people--well, that they talk. Don't be so
+funny about it, Käte; why shouldn't we tell?"
+
+"Not tell! You ask why we shouldn't tell? Paul, you know that
+yourself. If he gets to know it--oh, that mother! that Venn!"
+
+She clasped the boy even more tightly; but she had raised her head
+from his breast. Her face was pale, and her eyes looked quite
+bewildered as they stared at her husband. "Have you forgotten her?"
+
+Her tremulous voice grew hard. "No, he must never know it. And I
+swear it and you must promise me it as well, promise it
+sacredly now, here at his bedside whilst he's sleeping peacefully--and
+if I should die, not then either, Paul"--her voice grew louder
+and louder in her excitement, and its hard tone became almost a
+scream--"we'll never tell him it. And I won't give him up. He's my
+child _alone_, our child alone."
+
+Then her voice changed. "Wölfchen, my Wölfchen, surely you'll never
+leave your mother?"
+
+Her tears began to stream now, and whilst she wept she kissed the
+child so passionately, so fervently that he awoke. But he did not cry
+as he generally did when he was disturbed in his sleep.
+
+He smiled and, throwing both his little arms round her neck as she
+bent down to him, he said, still heavy with sleep, but yet clearly,
+plainly, "Mammy."
+
+She gave a cry of rapture, of triumphant joy. "Do you hear it? He
+says 'Mammy.'"
+
+She laughed and cried at the same time in her excessive joy, and
+caught hold of her husband's hand and held it fast. "Paul--daddy--come,
+give our child a kiss as well."
+
+And the man also bent down. His wife threw her arm round his neck
+and drew his head still further down quite close to hers. Then the
+child laid the one arm round his neck and the other round hers.
+
+They were all three so close to each other in that calm summer
+night, in which all the stars were gleaming and the moonbeams building
+silver bridges from the peaceful heavens down to the peaceful
+earth.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+Those were days of the purest happiness at the Schliebens'. The villa
+had been bought now, some rooms had been built on to it, and another
+piece of land had been added to the garden as a play-ground. They could
+not think of not giving the boy sufficient space to romp about in. Some
+sand was brought there, a heap as high as a dune in which to dig. And
+when he was big enough to do gymnastics they got him a swing and
+horizontal and parallel bars.
+
+But still it was not sufficient. He climbed over all the fences
+round the neighbouring villas, over all the walls that were protected
+by barbed wire and pieces of glass.
+
+"A splendid lad," said Dr. Hofmann when he spoke _of_ Wolfgang. When
+he spoke _to_ him he certainly said: "What a little ruffian you are!
+Just you wait till you go to school and they'll soon teach you to sit
+still."
+
+Wolf was wild--rather too wild, his mother considered. The boy's
+high spirits amused her husband: that was because there was such a
+large amount of surplus energy in him. But Käte felt somewhat surprised
+at so much wildness--no, she was not really surprised, she knew too
+well where all that wildness came from; it frightened her.
+
+She did not scold him when he tore his trousers--oh, they
+could be replaced--but when he came home with the first hole in his
+head she became incredibly agitated. She scolded him angrily, she
+became unjust. She was quite unable to stop the blood--ugh, how it
+ran!--she felt as if she were going to have a fit; she dragged herself
+into her room with difficulty and remained sitting silently in a
+corner, her eyes staring into space.
+
+When her husband reproached her for exaggerating in that manner, she
+never answered a word. Then he comforted her: she could feel quite easy
+now, the thing was of no moment, the hole was sewn up and the lad as
+happy as though it had never happened.
+
+But she shuddered nervously and her cheeks were pale. Oh, if Paul
+knew what she had been thinking of, was forced to think of the whole
+time! How strange that the same memory did not obtrude itself on him.
+Oh, Michel Solheid had laid bleeding on the Venn--blood had dripped on
+the ground to-day as on that day. The little boy had not complained,
+just as little as his--she fought against using the word even in her
+thoughts--as his father, as Michel Solheid had complained. And still
+the red blood had gushed out as though it were a spring. How much more
+natural it would have been for him to have cried. Did Wolf feel
+differently from other children?
+
+Käte went through the list of her acquaintances; there was not a
+single child that would not have cried if he had got such a wound, and
+he would not have been considered a coward on that account. There was
+no doubt about it, Wölfchen was less sensitive. Not only more
+insensible to bodily pain, no--and she thought she had noticed it
+several times--also more insensible to emotion. Even in the case of
+joy. Did not other children show their happiness by clapping their
+hands and shouting? Did not they dance round the thing they
+wanted--the toy, the doll, the cake--with shouts of delight? He only
+held out his hand for it in silence.
+
+He took it because he had been told to do so, without all the
+childish chatter, without the rapturous delight that makes it so
+attractive and satisfactory to give children gifts.
+
+"As a peasant," her husband used to say. That cut her to the quick
+every time he said it. Was Wölfchen really made of such different
+material? No, Paul must not say "peasant." Wölfchen was not stupid,
+only perhaps a little slow in thinking, and he was shrewd enough. He
+had not been born in a large town, that was it; where they lived now
+was just like the country.
+
+"You peasant!" The next time his father said it--it was said in
+praise and not to blame him, because he was pleased the boy kept his
+little garden so well--Käte flew into a passion. Why? Her husband did
+not understand the reason for it. Why should he not be pleased? Had not
+the boy put a splendid fence round his garden? He had made a palisade
+of hazel-sticks into which he had woven flexible willow-twigs, and then
+he had covered the whole with pine branches to make it close. And he
+had put beans and peas in his garden, which he had begged the cook to
+give him; and now he meant to plant potatoes there as well. Had anybody
+told him how to do it? No, nobody. The first-rate cook and the
+housemaid were both from a town, what did they know about sowing peas
+and planting potatoes?
+
+"He's a born farmer," said the father laughing.
+
+But the mother turned away as though in pain. She would much, much
+rather have seen her son's garden a mass of weeds than that he should
+plant, weed and water so busily.
+
+She had made him a present of some flowers; but they did not
+interest him and he was not so successful with them either.
+There was only a large sunflower that grew and grew. It was soon as
+high as the boy, soon even higher, and he often stood in front of it,
+his childish face raised, gazing earnestly into its golden disc for
+quite a long time.
+
+When the sunflower's golden petals withered--then its seeds ripened
+instead and were examined every day and finally gathered--Wolfgang went
+to school. He was already in his seventh year, and was big and strong;
+why should he not learn with other children now?
+
+His mother had thought how wonderful it would be to teach him the
+rudiments herself, for when she was a young girl with nothing to do at
+home and a great wish to continue her studies, she had gone to a
+training college and even passed her examination as a teacher with
+distinction; but--perhaps that was too long ago, for her strength was
+not equal to the task. Especially her patience. He made so little
+progress, was so exceedingly slow. Was the boy stupid? No, but dull,
+very dull. And it often seemed to her as though she were facing a wall
+when she spoke to him.
+
+"You are much too eager," said her husband. But how on earth was she
+to make it clear to him that that was an "A" and that an "O," and how
+was she to explain to him that if you put one and one together it makes
+two without getting eager? She became excited, she took the ball-frame
+and counted the blue and red balls that looked like round beads on a
+string for the boy. She got hot and red, almost hoarse, and would have
+liked to cry with impatience and discouragement, when Wölfchen sat
+looking at her with his large eyes without showing any interest, and
+still did not know that one bead and one bead more make two beads after
+they had worked at it for hours.
+
+She saw to her sorrow that she would have to give up the
+lessons. "He'll do better with a master," said her husband,
+consolingly. And it was better, although it could not exactly be termed
+"good."
+
+Wolfgang was not lazy, but his thoughts were always wandering.
+Learning did not interest him. He had other things to think about:
+would the last leaves in the garden have fallen when he got home from
+school at noon? And would the starling, for whom he had nailed the
+little box high up in the pine-tree, come again next spring? It had
+picked off all the black berries from the elderberry, and had then gone
+away screaming; if it did not find any more elderberries, what would it
+eat then? And the boy's heart was heavy with grief--if only he had
+given it a little bag of berries when it went away.
+
+Now the pines in the Grunewald were covered with snow. When Wolfgang
+had gone to school that morning, his knapsack on his back, the
+housemaid at his side, the white layer had crackled and broken under
+his boots. It was very cold. And then he had heard a bird's shriek,
+that sounded like a hungry croak. The housemaid thought it was an
+owl--pooh, what did she know about it? It was a raven, the hungry
+beggar in the jet-black coat, like the one in the primer.
+
+And the boy was thinking of it now as he sat on the bench, staring
+with big eyes at the blackboard, on which the teacher was writing words
+they were to find out. How nice it must be under the pines now. There
+flew the raven; brushing the snow off the branches with its black
+wings, so that it looked like powder as it fell. Where was he going to
+fly to? His thoughts flew far, far away after the raven, as they had
+done after the starling. The boy's eyes shone, his chest rose with the
+deep breath he drew--at that moment the teacher called to him.
+
+"Wolfgang, are you asleep with your eyes open? What's this?" The boy
+gave a start, got red, then pale and knew nothing.
+
+The other boys almost died of laughing--"Are you asleep with your
+eyes open?"--that had been too funny.
+
+The teacher did not punish him, but Wolfgang crept home as though he
+had been punished. He had hidden from the housemaid, who always came to
+fetch him--no, he would not go with her to-day. He had also run away
+from his comrades--let them fight without him today, to-morrow he would
+throw all the more snowballs at them.
+
+He walked quite alone, turned off from the street and wandered about
+aimlessly among the pines. He looked for the raven, but it was far
+away, and so he began to run too, run as quickly as he could, and tore
+the knapsack off his back with a loud cry, hurling it far from him up
+into the broad branches of a pine, so that it hung there and nothing
+but snow fell down silently in large lumps. That amused him. He filled
+both his hands with snow, made hard balls of it and began to regularly
+bombard the pine that kept his knapsack a prisoner. But it did not give
+it up, and when he had grown hot and red and tired but very much
+cheered, he had to go home without his knapsack.
+
+The housemaid had been back a long time when he arrived. She opened
+the door for him with a red face--she had run so hard after him--and an
+angry look. "Hm," she said irritably, "you've been kept, I
+suppose?"
+
+He pushed her aside. "Hold your tongue!" He could not bear her at
+that moment, when coming in from outside where everything had been so
+quiet, so free.
+
+His parents were already at table. His father frowned as he
+looked at him, his mother asked in a voice of gentle reproach in which
+there was also a little anxiety: "Where have you been so long? Lisbeth
+has been looking for you everywhere."
+
+"Well?" His father's voice sounded severe.
+
+The boy did not give any answer, it seemed to him all at once as
+though his tongue were paralysed. What should he tell those people
+sitting indoors about what he had been doing outside?
+
+"He's sure to have been kept at school, ma'am," whispered the
+housemaid when she handed the meat. "I'll find it out from the other
+boys to-morrow, and tell you about it, ma'am."
+
+"Oh, you!" The boy jumped up; although she had whispered it in a low
+voice, he had heard it all the same. His chair fell down behind him
+with a crash, and rushing up to the girl with clenched fist he seized
+hold of her so roughly that she gave a shrill scream and let the dish
+fall out of her hand.
+
+"You goose, you goose!" he howled in a loud voice, and wanted to
+strike her. His father only pulled him away with difficulty.
+
+"Wölfchen!" Käte's fork had fallen out of her hand with a clatter,
+and she was staring at her boy with dilated eyes.
+
+The maid complained bitterly. He was always like that, he was
+unbearable, he had said before to her: "Hold your tongue!" No, she
+could not put up with it, she would rather leave. And she ran out of
+the room crying.
+
+Paul Schlieben was extremely angry. "You are to be civil to
+inferiors. You are to be polite to them, just because they have to
+serve. Do you hear?" And he seized hold of the boy with a strong hand,
+laid him across his knees and gave him the whipping he so well
+deserved.
+
+Wolfgang ground his teeth together and bore the punishment without
+uttering a sound and without a tear.
+
+But every stroke fell on his mother's heart. She felt as if she
+herself had been beaten and severely bruised. When her husband took his
+usual rest after the stormy dinner, smoked, read the paper and took a
+little nap between whiles, she crept up to the nursery in which the boy
+had been locked. Was he crying?
+
+She turned the key softly--he was kneeling on the chair near the
+window, his nose pressed flat against the pane, looking attentively out
+at the snow. He did not notice her at all. Then she went away again
+cautiously. She went downstairs again, but her mind was not
+sufficiently at rest to read in her room; she crept about the house
+softly as though she had no peace. Then she heard Lisbeth say to the
+cook in the kitchen between the rattling of plates: "I shall certainly
+not put up with it. Not from such a rude boy. What has he got to do
+here?"
+
+Käte stood rigid, overcome by a terror that paralysed her: what did
+she know? She became glowing hot and then icy cold. "Not from such a
+rude boy--what has he got to do here?" oh, God, was that the way she
+spoke about him?
+
+She ran up to the nursery; Wölfchen was still kneeling at the
+window.
+
+No other villa obstructed the view there as yet; from the window one
+looked out on a large piece of waste ground, where dandelions and
+nettles grew in the sand between hedge mustard in the summer time, but
+where the snow lay now, deep and clean, untouched by any footstep. The
+short winter evening was already drawing to a close, that white field
+was the only thing that still glittered, and it seemed to the mother
+that the child's face was very wan in the pale light of the luminous
+snow.
+
+"Wölfchen," she called softly. And then "Wölfchen, how could you say
+'goose' and 'hold your tongue' to Lisbeth? Oh, for shame! Where did you
+get those words from?" Her voice was gentle and sad as she questioned
+him.
+
+Then he turned round to her, and she saw how his eyes burned.
+Something flickered in them, that looked like a terrified, restless
+longing.
+
+She noticed that as well, and quite against all rules of pedagogy
+she opened her arms and whispered--after it had escaped from her lips
+she did not know herself why she had said it, for he had everything,
+everything his heart desired--"You poor child!"
+
+And he ran into her arms.
+
+They held each other tightly, heart beating against heart. They were
+both sad, but neither of them knew the reason why, nor why the other
+one was sad.
+
+"It's not the whipping," he murmured.
+
+She stroked his straight hair away from his forehead with her soft
+hand; she did not ask him any more questions. For--did not something
+rise out of that field covered with snow, hover outside the window and
+lay its finger on its lips: "Be quiet, do not ask, do not touch
+it"?
+
+But she remained with the boy and played with him; she felt as
+though she ought not to leave him alone to-day. Yes, she must pay still
+more attention to him in the future. All at once the thought fell on
+her heart like a heavy weight: she had already left him much too much
+to himself. But then she consoled herself again: he was still so young,
+his mind was still a piece of quite soft wax, which she could mould as
+she liked. He must never again be allowed to stand at the window
+staring out at that desolate field with such burning eyes. What was he
+longing for? Was not a wealth of love showered on him? And
+everything else that delights a child's heart?
+
+She looked round his pretty room. Such a quantity of toys were piled
+up in it, trains and steamers, tin soldiers and picture books and all
+the newest games.
+
+"Come, we'll play," she said.
+
+He was quite ready to do so; she was surprised how quickly he had
+forgotten his sorrow. Thank God, he was still quite an innocent,
+unsuspecting child. But how restlessly he threw the toys about. "That's
+stupid," and "that's tiresome"--nothing really absorbed his attention.
+She soon felt quite exhausted with all her proposals and her endeavours
+to induce him to play this or that game. She did not think she had been
+so difficult to satisfy as a child. She had wanted to get up and go
+away half a dozen times already--no, she really could not stand it any
+longer, she had a frantic headache, it had got on her nerves, it was
+certainly much easier to stand at the fire and cook or do housework
+than play with a child--but her sense of duty and her love kept her
+back every time.
+
+She must not leave him alone, for--she felt it with a gloomy
+dread--for then somebody else would come and take him away from
+her.
+
+She remained sitting with him, pale and exhausted; he had tormented
+her a great deal. At last he found a woolly sheep that had been quite
+forgotten in the corner of the toy cupboard, a dilapidated old toy from
+his childhood with only three legs left. And he amused himself with
+that; that pleased him more than the other costly toys. He sat on the
+carpet as though he were quite a little child, held the sheep between
+his knees and stroked it.
+
+When he lay in bed at last, she still sat beside him holding his
+hand. She sang the song with which she had so often sung him to
+sleep:
+
+           "Sleep sound, sweetest child,
+            Yonder wind howls wild.
+            Hearken, how the rain makes sprays
+            And how neighbour's doggie bays.
+            Doggie has gripped the man forlorn,
+            Has the beggar's tatter torn--"
+
+She sang it more and more softly. At last she thought he had fallen
+asleep, but then he tore his hand away impatiently: "Stop that song!
+I'm not a baby any longer!"
+
+            *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
+
+It was fortunate that there were no street boys in the Grunewald
+colony, as Wölfchen would assuredly have played with them; as it was,
+his playfellows were only a hall-porter's children. There was certainly
+no want of nicer children to play with; school-fellows whose parents
+lived in similar villas to theirs used to invite him; and the families
+in Berlin, with whom the Schliebens were on friendly terms and who were
+pleased when their children could get out to the Grunewald on their
+holidays, often asked him to come and see them too.
+
+All children liked to come to the shady garden, where Auntie Käte
+was always so kind to them. There was always plenty of cakes and fruit
+and hoops and balls and croquet and tennis, ninepins and gymnastic
+appliances. On sunny afternoons gay laughter and shrieks used to ascend
+high up into the green tops of the pines, but--Käte noticed it with
+surprise--her boy, who was generally so wild, was the quietest of them
+all on those occasions. He did not care for those visits. He did not
+care for those well-behaved boys in white and blue sailor-suits, with
+their fresh faces showing above their dazzling collars; he never felt
+really at home with them. He would have preferred to have run away to a
+place far away from there, where nobody else went except now and then a
+beggar with a large bag, who would turn over every bit of paper
+with his wire hook to see whether something of value had not been left
+there the Sunday before. He would have liked to help that man. Or fill
+the large bag with pine-cones.
+
+But still Wolfgang had some friends. There was Hans Flebbe--his
+father was coachman at the banker's, who owned the splendid villa on
+the other side of the road and lived in Bellevuestrasse in Berlin in
+the winter--and there were also Artur and Frida. But their father was
+only porter in a villa that was let out to different families.
+
+As soon as these three came home from school, they would stand
+outside the Schliebens' villa. They could not be driven away, they
+would wait there patiently until Wolfgang joined them.
+
+"He's like a brother to my Hans," the coachman used to say, and he
+would greet him with a specially condescending flick of his whip from
+his high seat. And the porter and his wife used to state with much
+satisfaction: "Yes, old Schlieben always touches his hat, and she, his
+lady, also says 'how do you do?' to us in a very friendly style, but
+the little one, oh, he's quite different."
+
+Those were wild games the four comrades played together, and in
+which Frida was reckoned to be quite a boy: catch, hide and seek, but
+best of all, robbers and policemen. How Wolf's eyes sparkled when he,
+as the robber captain, gave the policeman, Hans Flebbe, a kick in the
+stomach, so that he fell backwards on the ground and lay for a time
+without moving from pain.
+
+"I've shot him," he said to his mother proudly.
+
+Käte, who had been called to the window by the noisy shrieks of the
+children who were rushing about wildly in the waste field behind the
+villa, had beckoned to her boy to come in. He had come unwillingly; but
+he had come. Now he stood breathless before her, and she
+stroked the damp hair away from the face that was wet with
+perspiration: "What a sight you look! And here--look."
+
+She pointed reproachfully to his white blouse that was covered with
+dirt. Where in all the world had he made himself so filthy? there were
+no real pools there. And his trousers. The right leg was slit open the
+whole way down, the left one had a three-cornered hole in the knee.
+
+Pooh, that was nothing. He wanted to rush away again, he was
+trembling with impatience; his playfellows were crouching behind the
+bush, they dared not come out before he, their captain, came back to
+them. He strove against the hand that was holding him; but his
+struggles were of no avail that time, his father came out of the next
+room.
+
+"You are to stop here. You ought to feel ashamed of yourself to
+resist your mother like that. Off with you, go to your room and prepare
+your lessons for tomorrow."
+
+Paul Schlieben spoke sharply. It had made him angry to see how the
+boy had striven with hands and feet against his delicate wife.
+
+"You rude boy, I'll teach you how to behave to your mother.
+Here"--he seized hold of him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him
+up to her--"here, beg her pardon. Kiss your good mother's hand. And
+promise not to be so wild again, not to behave like a street-boy. Be
+quick--well, are you soon going to do it?"
+
+The veins on the man's forehead began to swell with anger. What a
+stubborn fellow he was. There he stood, his blouse torn open at front
+so that you could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest that was wet
+with perspiration--he was not breathing quietly even now, he
+was still panting from the rough game--and looking so wild, so
+turbulent, not at all like the child of nice parents. This could not go
+on any longer.
+
+"You must not tear about like that any more, do you hear?" said his
+father severely. "I forbid it. Play other games. You have your garden,
+your gymnastic appliances and a hundred things others would envy you.
+And now come here, beg your mother's pardon."
+
+The boy went to his mother. She met him half way, she held out her
+hand to him already. He kissed it, he mumbled also, "I won't do it
+again," but the man did not hear any repentance in his voice. There was
+something in the sullen way he said it that irritated him. And he lost
+control of himself a little.
+
+"That wasn't an apology. Ask your mother's pardon again--and
+distinctly."
+
+The boy repeated it.
+
+"And now promise that you will not rush about like that again. 'Dear
+mother, I promise'--well?"
+
+Not a word, no promise.
+
+"What's the meaning of this?" The man shook the boy, beside himself
+with anger. But the boy pressed his lips together. He gave his father
+an upward look out of his dark eyes.
+
+The woman caught the look--oh, God, that was the look!--that
+look--the woman's look!
+
+She put both her arms round the boy protectingly: "Don't, don't
+irritate him." She drew him nearer to her and covered his eyes with her
+hands, so that he had to close them, and then she cast an imploring
+glance at her husband: "Go, do go."
+
+Paul Schlieben went, but he shook his head angrily.
+
+"You'll see what your training will make of the boy." He raised his
+hand menacingly once more: "Boy, I tell you, you'll have to obey." And
+then he closed the door behind him--he could not even have his
+midday rest undisturbed now.
+
+He heard his wife's voice in the next room. It sounded so gentle and
+trembled as though with a secret dread. "Wölfchen, Wölfchen, aren't you
+my good boy?"
+
+No answer. Good heavens, had the unfeeling scamp no answer to give
+to that question uttered in that tone?
+
+Then again the soft trembling voice: "Won't you be my good boy?"
+
+If the boy did not answer now, then--! The blood surged to his head
+as he listened against his will, his fingers twitched, he wanted to
+jump up and rush in again and--ah, he must have answered now. It was
+probably nothing but a silent nod, but Käte's voice sounded intensely
+happy: "There you see, I knew you were my good boy, my darling child,
+my--my----"
+
+Hm, it was certainly not necessary for Käte to lavish such endearing
+tones on the boy, after he had just been so naughty. And she must have
+kissed him, put her arms round him. Her voice had died away in a tender
+breath.
+
+Paul Schlieben did not hear anything more now; neither the rustling
+of her dress nor any other sound--ah, she was probably whispering to
+him now. How she spoiled the scamp.
+
+But now--somebody was weeping softly. Was that Wolf's hard, defiant
+voice? Yes, he was actually crying loudly now, and between his sobs he
+jerked out pitifully--you could hardly understand what he was saying:
+"I had to--to shoot him--he's the policeman, you know."
+
+And now everything was quiet again. The man took up his paper once
+more, which he had thrown aside before, and commenced to read. But he
+could not fix his attention on it, his thoughts wandered obstinately
+again and again to the next room. Had the scamp come to his
+senses now? Did he see that he had been naughty? And was not Käte much
+too weak? There was nothing to be heard, nothing whatever. But
+still--was not that the door that creaked? No, imagination. Everything
+was quiet.
+
+After waiting a little longer he went into the next room. It was
+indeed very quiet there, for Käte was quite alone. She was sitting at
+the window, her hands in her lap, pondering. Her thoughts seemed to be
+far away.
+
+"Where's the boy?"
+
+She gave a terrified start, and thrust both hands forward as though
+to ward off something.
+
+He saw now that she was pale. The vexation she had had on account of
+the child had probably shaken her a good deal--just let him wait until
+he got hold of him, he should do twice as many sums to-day as a
+punishment.
+
+"Is the boy at his lessons?"
+
+She shook her head and got red. "No."
+
+"No? Why not?" He looked at her in amazement. "Didn't I tell him
+that he was to go to his lessons at once?"
+
+"You said so. But I told him to run away. Paul, don't be angry." She
+saw that he was about to fly into a passion, and laid her hand on his
+arm soothingly. "If you love me, leave him. Oh Paul, believe me, do
+believe me when I say he can't help it, he must run about, rush about,
+be out of doors--he must."
+
+"You always have some excuse. Just think of the story of the
+knapsack when first he went to school--the rascal had thrown it up into
+a pine-tree. If a labourer had not found it by accident and brought it
+to us, because he read our name on the primer, we might have
+looked for it for a long time. You excused that--well, that was nothing
+very bad--a fit of wantonness--but now you are excusing something quite
+different; and everything." The man, who generally yielded to his wife
+in all points, grew angry in his grave anxiety. "I implore you, Käte,
+don't be so incredibly weak with the boy. Where will it lead to?"
+
+"It will lead him to you and me." She pointed gravely to him and
+herself. And then she laid her hand on her heart with an expression of
+deep emotion.
+
+"What do you mean? I don't understand you. Please express yourself a
+little more clearly, I'm not in a humour to guess riddles."
+
+"If you can't guess it, you'll not understand it either if I say it
+more clearly." She bent her head and then went back to her former seat.
+But she was not lost in thought any longer, it seemed to him as if she
+were leaning forward to catch the shrill shouts of triumph that rose
+high above the roof from the waste field at the back of the house.
+
+"You'll never be able to manage the boy."
+
+"Oh yes, I shall."
+
+"Of course you will, if you let him do exactly what he likes." The
+man strode quickly out of the room; his anger was getting the mastery
+of him.
+
+Paul Schlieben was seriously angry with his wife, perhaps for the
+first time in their married life. How could Käte be so unreasonable?
+take so little notice of his orders, as though he had never given
+them--nay, even act in direct opposition to him? Oh, the rascal was
+cunning enough, he drew his conclusions from it already. And if he did
+not do so as yet, still he felt instinctively what a support he had in
+his mother. It was simply incredible how weak Käte was.
+
+His wife's soft sensitive nature, which had attracted him to
+her in the first instance and which had had the same charm for him
+all the years they had been married, now seemed exaggerated all at
+once--childish. Yes, this timorousness, this everlasting dread of what
+was over and done with was childish. They had not heard anything more
+about the boy's mother, why then conjure up her shade on all occasions?
+They had the boy's birth and baptismal certificates safely in their
+hands, and the Venn was far away--he would never see it--why then this
+constant, tremulous anxiety? There was no reason whatever for it. They
+lived in such pleasant surroundings, their financial position was so
+sound, Wolf possessed everything that fills and gladdens a child's
+heart, that it was real madness for Käte to suppose that he had a kind
+of longing for his home. How in the world should he have got that
+longing? He had no idea that this was not really his home. It was sad
+that Käte was so hypersensitive. She could positively make others
+nervous as well.
+
+And the man passed his hand over his forehead, as though to drive
+disagreeable thoughts away with a movement of his hand. He lighted a
+cigar. It was an extra fine one to-day, those he generally left for his
+guests; he had the feeling that he must have something to help him over
+an unpleasant hour. For the thing was unpleasant, really unpleasant and
+difficult, even if he hoped in time to solve the question of how to
+train such a child satisfactorily. At any rate not as Käte was doing.
+That was clear to him already.
+
+Paul Schlieben sat in the corner of the sofa in his study, blowing
+blue rings of smoke into the air. His brows were still knit. He had
+come home very tired from the office that day, where there had been all
+sorts of complications--quite enough annoyance--he had had to dictate
+some hurried letters, had not allowed himself a moment's
+repose, and had hoped to have a pleasant rest at home--but in vain.
+Strange how one child can alter the whole household, one's whole life.
+If the boy had not been there?... Ah, then he would have had a short
+peaceful nap by now, stretched out on the divan with the newspaper in
+front of his face, and would be going across to Käte's room for a cosy
+chat and a cup of coffee, which she prepared herself so gracefully on
+the humming Viennese coffee-machine. He had always liked to sit and
+watch her slender, well-cared-for hands move about so noiselessly. It
+was a pity.
+
+He sighed. But then he conquered the feeling: no, one ought not to
+wish he were away because of a momentary annoyance. How many happy
+hours little Wölfchen had given them. It had been charming to watch his
+first steps, to listen to his first connected words. And had not Käte
+been very happy to have him--oh, who said _been_ happy?--she was still
+so. Nothing could be compared to the boy. And that the hours of
+cloudless happiness they had had through him were not so numerous now
+as formerly was quite natural. He was not the same little boy any
+longer, who had taken his first bold run from that corner over there to
+this sofa, and had clung to his father's legs rejoicing at his own
+daring; that was all. He was now beginning to be an independent person,
+a person with wishes of his own, no longer with those that had been
+inculcated; he showed a will of his very own. Now he wanted this and
+now he wanted that, and no longer what his teachers wanted. But was not
+that natural? On the whole, when a child begins to go to school, what a
+great many changes take place. One would have to make allowances, even
+if one did not wish to have one's whole way of living influenced by it
+first the parents, then the child.
+
+The man felt how he gradually became calmer. A boy--what a
+compound of wildness, roughness, unrestraint, ay, unmannerliness is
+included in that word! And all, all who were now men had once been
+boys.
+
+His cigar went out; he had forgotten to smoke it. The man thought of
+his own boyhood with a strangely gentle feeling not entirely free from
+a faint longing. Let him only be honest: had he not also rushed about
+and made a terrible noise, dirtied himself, got hot and torn his
+trousers and been up to pranks, more than enough pranks?
+
+Strange how he all at once remembered some of the severe lectures he
+had had given him and the tears he had forced from his mother's eyes;
+he also very clearly remembered the whipping he had once got for
+telling a lie. His father had said at the time--all at once he seemed
+to hear his voice, which had generally sounded anything but solemn, in
+fact very commonplace, but which had then been ennobled by the gravity
+of the situation, echo in the room: "Boy, I can forgive you everything
+else except lies." Ah, it had been very uncomfortable that day in the
+small office, where his father had leant against the high wooden desk
+holding the stick behind his back. He had pushed the little cap he wore
+on account of his baldness to one side in his agitation, his friendly
+blue eyes had looked at him penetratingly, and at the same time
+sadly.
+
+"One can forgive everything except lies"--well, had the boy, had
+Wolfgang told a lie? Certainly not. He had only been naughty, as the
+best children are now and then.
+
+The man felt ashamed of himself: and he, he had been so displeased
+with the boy simply because he had been naughty?
+
+He got up from the sofa, threw the remains of his cigar into the
+ash-tray and went out to look for Wolfgang.
+
+He came across the four in the height of the game. They had lighted
+a small fire on the waste piece of ground close behind the garden
+railing, so that the overhanging bushes in the garden formed a kind of
+roof over them.
+
+They were crouching close together; they were in camp now. Frida had
+some potatoes in her pinafore, which were to be roasted in the ashes;
+but the fire would not burn, the twigs only smouldered. Wolfgang lay on
+his stomach on the ground, resting on his elbows, and was blowing with
+all the strength of his lungs. But it was not enough, the fire would
+not burn on any account.
+
+Paul Schlieben had come up softly, the children had not noticed him
+at all in their eagerness. "Won't it burn?" he asked.
+
+Wolfgang jerked himself up, and was on his feet in a moment. He had
+been red and fresh-looking, but now he grew pale, his frank look fell
+timidly, a miserable expression lengthened his round, childish face and
+made him look older.
+
+"Have I to go in?" It sounded pitiful.
+
+The man pretended not to hear the question; he had really intended
+fetching him in, but all at once he hesitated to say so. It was hard
+for the boy to have to go away now before the fire burnt, before the
+potatoes were roasted. So he said nothing, but stooped down, and as he
+was not far enough down even then he knelt down and blew the fire, that
+was faintly crackling, with all the breath he had in his broad chest.
+Sparks began to leap out at once, and a small flame shot up and soon
+turned into a big one.
+
+There was a shout of glee. Frida hopped about in the circle, her
+plaits flying: "It's burning, it's burning!" Artur and Hans chimed in
+too; they also hopped from the one foot to the other, clapped their
+dirty hands and shouted loudly: "It's burning, it's burning!"
+
+"Be quiet, children." The man was amused at their happiness. "Bring
+me some twigs, but very dry ones," he ordered, full of eagerness, too,
+to keep alive this still uncertain flame, that now disappeared, now
+flared up again. He blew and poked and added more twigs. The wind drove
+the smoke into his face so that he had to cough, but he wiped his eyes,
+that were full of tears, and did not mind that his trousers got wet
+green spots from kneeling on the ground, and that chance passers-by
+would be greatly surprised to see Herr Paul Schlieben occupied in that
+manner. He, too, found it fun now to keep up a fire for roasting
+potatoes under the pale, blue autumn sky, in which the white clouds
+were scudding along and the twittering swallows flying. He had never
+known such a thing--he had always lived in a town--but it was splendid,
+really splendid.
+
+The children brought twigs. Wolfgang took them and broke them across
+his knee--crack!--the sticks broke like glass. What a knack the boy had
+at it.
+
+The flames flared up, the little fire emitted an agreeable warmth;
+one could warm one's hands at it--ah, that was really very nice.
+
+And then the man followed the smoke, which the wind raised from the
+field like a light cloud, with his eyes. It seemed grey at first, but
+the higher it flew the lighter it became, and the friendly sunshine
+shone through it, transforming it. It floated upwards, ever upwards,
+ever more immaterial, more intangible, until it flew away entirely--a
+puff, a whiff.
+
+Now it was about time to bury the potatoes; Wolfgang busied himself
+with it. They had not poked the fire any more, the flame had sunk down,
+but the ashes hid all the heat. The children stood round with wide-open
+eyes, quite quiet, almost holding their breath and yet trembling with
+expectation: when would the first potatoes be done? Oh, did
+they not smell nice already? They distended their nostrils so as to
+smell them. But Paul Schlieben brushed his trousers now and prepared to
+go away--it would take too long before the potatoes were ready. He felt
+something that resembled regret. But it really would not do for him to
+stand about any longer; what would people think of him?
+
+He was himself again now. "That's enough now," he said, and he went
+away, carefully avoiding the impracticable parts of the field where the
+puddles were. Then he heard steps close behind him. He turned round.
+"Wolf? Well, what do you want?"
+
+The boy looked at him sadly out of his dark eyes.
+
+"Are you going home too?" There was astonishment in the man's
+question--he had not said that the boy was to go with him.
+
+The pines emitted a splendid smell, you could breathe the air so
+freely, so easily, and that pale blue sky with the fleecy white clouds
+had something wonderfully clear about it, something that filled the
+eyes with light. White threads floated over the countryside, driven
+from the clean east, and hung fast to the green branches of the pines,
+shimmering there like a fairy web. And the sun was still agreeably warm
+without burning, and an invigorating pungent odour streamed from the
+golden-coloured leaves of the bushes that enclosed the gardens at the
+back.
+
+The man drew a deep breath; he felt as if he had suddenly grown ten,
+twenty--no, thirty years younger. Even more.
+
+"Well, run along," he said.
+
+The boy looked at him as if he had not quite understood him.
+
+"Run," he said once more curtly, smiling at the same time.
+
+Then the boy gave a shout, such a shrill, triumphant shout that his
+playfellows, who were crouching round the potato fire, joined in
+immediately without knowing why.
+
+There was a gleam in the dark eyes of the boy, who loved freedom,
+the free air and to run about free. He did not say his father had made
+him happy, but he drew a deep breath as if a load had fallen off his
+chest. And the man noticed something in his face, that was now
+commencing to grow coarser, to lose the soft contours of childhood and
+get the sharp ones of youth, that made it refined and beautiful.
+
+Wolfgang flew back across the field as quick as lightning, as if
+shot from a tightly strung bow.
+
+The man went back into his garden. He opened the gate cautiously so
+that it should not creak, and closed it again just as quietly--Käte
+need not know where he had been. But she was already standing at the
+window.
+
+There was something touchingly helpless in her attitude, such an
+anxious scrutiny in her eyes--no, she need not look at him like that,
+he was not angry with her.
+
+And he nodded to her.
+
+When the housemaid asked whether the master did not know where the
+young gentleman was--she had had the milk warmed three times already
+for him and had run up and downstairs with it--he said in a low voice
+with an excuse in the tone: "Oh, that does not matter, Lisbeth. Warm it
+for a fourth time later on. It is so healthy for him to be out of
+doors."
+
+
+
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+It was Frida Lämke's birthday. "If you may come we are to have buns
+with raisins in, but if you mayn't there'll only be rolls like we have
+every day," she said to her friend Wolfgang. "Mind you get them to let
+you come." It was of most importance to her that Wolfgang came; no
+differences were made on account of Flebbe, although he always said he
+was going to marry her.
+
+And Wolfgang teased his mother. "Let me go--why not? I should like
+to so much--why mayn't I?"
+
+Yes, why not? He had kept dinning this "why not?" into her ears for
+the last twenty-four hours; it had quite worn her out. What should she
+say to him? that she disliked Frida? But what had the girl done that
+she had taken a dislike to her? Nothing. She always curtseyed politely,
+was always tidily dressed, had even plaited the blue ribbon into her
+fair hair with a certain taste. The parents were also quite respectable
+people, and still--these children always hung about the streets,
+always, both summer and winter. You could pass their house whenever you
+liked, those Lämkes were always outside their door. Was it the life of
+the streets this snub-nosed girl, who was very developed for her age,
+reminded her of? No, he must not go to those people's house, go down
+into the atmosphere of the porter's room.
+
+"I don't wish you to go there," she said. She had not the heart to
+say: "I won't allow it," when he looked at her with those beseeching
+eyes.
+
+And the boy saw his advantage. He felt distinctly: she is struggling
+with herself; and he followed it up with cruel pertinacity.
+
+"Let me--oh, do let me. I shall be so sorry if I can't. Then I
+shan't care to do anything. Why mayn't I? Mammy, I'll love you so, if
+you'll only let me go. Do let me--will you? But I will."
+
+She could not escape from him any more, he followed her wherever she
+went, he took hold of her dress, and even if she forbade him to ask her
+any more, she felt that he only thought of the one thing the whole
+time. So he forced her in that way.
+
+Paul Schlieben was not so averse to his accepting the invitation
+from the Lämkes. "Why not? They're quite respectable people. It won't
+harm the boy to cast a glance at those circles for once in a way. I
+also went to our hall-porter's home as a boy. And why not?"
+
+She wanted to say: "But that was something quite different, there
+was no danger in your case"--but then she thought better of it and said
+nothing. She did not want to bring him her fears, her doubts, her
+secret gnawing dread so soon again, as there was no manifest reason for
+them, and they could not be explained as every other feeling can be
+after all. Something like a depressing mist always hung over her. But
+why should she tell him so? She neither wanted to be scolded nor
+laughed at for it; she would resent both. He was not the same man he
+used to be. Oh--she felt it with a slight bitterness--how he used to
+understand her. He had shared every emotion with her, every vibration
+of her soul. But he had not the gift of understanding her
+thoughts now--or did she perhaps not understand him any longer?
+
+But he was still her dear husband, her good, faithful husband whom
+she loved more than anyone else in the world--no, whom she loved as she
+loved Wölfchen. The child, oh, the child was the sun round which her
+life revolved.
+
+If Paul only had been as he was formerly. She had to cast a covert
+glance at him very frequently now, and, with a certain surprise, also
+grow accustomed to his outward appearance. Not that his broadening-out
+did not suit him; the slight stoutness his slender figure with its
+formerly somewhat stiff but always perfect carriage had assumed suited
+his years, and the silver threads that commenced to gleam in his beard
+and at his temples. It suited also the comfortable velvet coat he
+always put on as soon as he came home, suited his whole manner of
+being. Strange that anybody could become such a practical person, to
+whom everything relating to business had formerly been such a burden,
+nay, even most repugnant. He would not have picked up the strange child
+from the Venn now, and--Käte gave her husband a long look--he would not
+have taken it home with him now as a gift from fairyland.
+
+Had the years also changed her in the same manner? Her looking-glass
+did not show her any very great change. There was still the same
+girlish figure, which seemed twice as slender beside her husband's
+stoutness. Her hair was still fair, and she still blushed like a young
+girl to whom a stray look is enough to make the blood, that flows so
+easily, invade her delicate cheeks. Yes, she had still remained young
+outwardly. But her mind was often weary. Wolf caused her too much
+anxiety. A mother, who was ten, fifteen years younger than she, would
+not perhaps feel how every nerve becomes strained when dealing
+with such a child as she did. Would not such a mother often have
+laughed when she felt ready to cry?
+
+Oh, what a boisterous, inexhaustible vital power there was in that
+boy! She was amazed, bewildered, exhausted by it. Was he never tired?
+Always on his legs, out of bed at six, always out, out. She heard him
+tossing about restlessly at daybreak. He slept in the next room to
+theirs, and the door between the rooms always stood open, although her
+husband scolded her for it. The boy was big enough, did not want
+supervising. They need not have that disturbance at night, at any
+rate.
+
+But she wanted to watch over his sleep too; she must do so. She
+often heard him talk in his dreams, draw his breath so heavily, as
+though something were distressing him. Then she would slip out of bed,
+softly, softly, so that her husband should not hear her; she did not
+light any candle, she groped her way into the other room on bare feet.
+And then she would stand at his bedside. He still had the pretty railed
+cot from his first boyhood--but how long would it be before it was too
+small? How quickly he was growing, how terribly quickly. She passed her
+hand cautiously and lightly over the cover, and felt the boy's long
+body underneath it. Then he began to toss about, groan, stiffen himself
+like one who is struggling with something. What could be the matter
+with him? Then he spoke indistinctly. Of what was he dreaming so
+vividly? He was wet through with perspiration.
+
+If only she could see him. But she dared not light a candle. What
+should she say to her husband if he, awakened by the light, asked her
+what she was doing there? And Wölfchen would also wake and ask her what
+she wanted.
+
+Yes, what did she really want? She had no answer ready even for
+herself. She would only have liked to know what was occupying his mind
+in his dream to such an extent that he sighed and struggled. Of what
+was he dreaming? Of whom? Where was he in his dream?
+
+She trembled as she stood at his bedside on her bare feet listening.
+And then she bent over him so closely that his breath, uneven and hot,
+blew into her face, and she breathed on him again--did not they mingle
+their breath in that manner? Was she not giving him breath of her
+breath in that manner?--and whispered softly and yet so earnestly,
+imploringly and at the same time urgently: "Your mother is here, your
+mother is near you."
+
+But he threw himself over to the other side with a jerk, turned his
+back on her and mumbled something. Nothing but incomprehensible words,
+rarely anything that was distinct, but even that was enough; she felt
+he was not there, not with her, that he was far away. Did his soul seek
+the home he did not know in his dreams? that he could not even know
+about, and that still had such a powerful influence that it drew him
+there even unconsciously?
+
+Käte stood at Wolfgang's bedside tortured by such an anxiety as she
+had never felt before: a mother and still not mother. Alas, she was
+only a strange woman at the bedside of a strange child.
+
+She crept back to her bed and buried her throbbing brows deep in the
+pillows. She felt her heart beat tumultuously, and she scolded herself
+for allowing her thoughts to dwell on such unavailing things. She did
+not change anything by it, it only made her weary and sad.
+
+When Käte rose after such a night she felt her husband's eyes
+resting on her anxiously, and her hands trembled as she coiled
+up her thick hair. It was fortunate that she dropped a hair-pin, then
+she could stoop quickly and withdraw her tired face with the dark lines
+under the eyes from his scrutinising glance.
+
+"I'm not at all satisfied with my wife's health again," Paul
+Schlieben complained to the doctor. "She's in a terribly nervous state
+again."
+
+"Really?" Dr. Hofmann's friendly face became energetic. "I'll tell
+you one thing, my dear friend, you must take vigorous measures against
+it at once."
+
+"That's no use." The man shook his head. "I know my wife. It's the
+boy's doing, that confounded boy!"
+
+And he took Wolfgang in hand. "Now listen, you must not always be
+worrying your mother like that. If I notice once more that she is
+grieving about you because you are naughty, you shall see what I'll do
+to you."
+
+Did he worry his mother? Wolfgang looked very blank. And surely it
+was not naughty of him to want to go to the Lämkes? It worried him to
+have to sit indoors, whilst the wind was whistling outside and playing
+about with one's hair in such a jolly manner. And it worried him, too,
+that he was not going to the Lämkes that day.
+
+"Well then, go," said Käte. She even drove into Berlin before dinner
+and bought a doll, a pretty doll with fair locks, eyes that opened and
+shut, and a pink dress. "Take it to Frida for her birthday when you
+go," she said in the afternoon, putting it into the boy's hands. "Stop!
+Be careful!"
+
+He had seized hold of it impetuously, he was so delighted to be able
+to bring Frida something. And in a rare fit of emotion--he was no
+friend of caresses--he put up his face in an outburst of gratitude and
+let his mother kiss him. He did not want her kiss, but he
+submitted to it, she felt that very well, but still she was glad, and
+she followed him with her eyes with a smile that lighted up her whole
+face.
+
+"But you must be home again before dark," she called out to him at
+the last moment. Had he heard her?
+
+How he ran off, as light-footed as a stag. She had never seen any
+child run so quickly. He threw up his straight legs that his heels
+touched his thighs every time. The wind blew his broad-brimmed sailor
+hat back, then he tore it off and ran on bareheaded, he was in such a
+hurry.
+
+What was it that drew him so powerfully to those people?
+
+The smile disappeared from Käte's face; she left the window.
+
+Wolfgang was happy. He was sitting with the Lämkes, in the room in
+which they also did the cooking when the weather was cold. The parents'
+bed was divided off by means of a curtain, Frida slept on the sofa, and
+Artur in the little room next to it in which were also kept the shovels
+and brooms which Lämke used for cleaning the house and street.
+
+It was not winter yet, still pleasant autumn, but the room was
+already warm and cosy. The stronger smell of the coffee, which Frau
+Lämke was making in the large enamelled pot, mingled with the delicate
+fragrance of the pale monthly rose and carnation, myrtle and geranium,
+which had been pushed close to the window that was almost level with
+the ground and were all in flower. At home Wolfgang never got coffee,
+but he got some there; and he sipped it as he saw the others do, only
+he was even more delighted with it than they. And no fine pastry had
+ever tasted so good as did that plain bun, that was more like bread
+than like a cake. He ate it with his mouth open, and when Mrs.
+Lämke pushed a second one to him, the guest of honour, he took it with
+radiant eyes.
+
+Frau Lämke felt much flattered at his visit. But she had not made
+much of the doll; she had taken it from Frida at once and locked it
+into the cupboard: "So that you don't smash it at once. Besides, your
+father isn't a gentleman that you can play with dolls every day." But
+later on when her husband came down from the lodge, in which he sat in
+his leisure hours mending boots and shoes, to drink a cup of coffee and
+eat a bun on Frida's birthday, the doll was fetched out again and shown
+him.
+
+"Fine, isn't it? She's got it from Wolfgang's mamma. Just look,
+Lämke"--the woman lifted the doll's pink dress up and showed the white
+petticoat trimmed with a frill edged with narrow lace--"such trimming.
+Just like that I sewed round the dress Frida wore at her christening.
+She was the first one; bless you, and you think at the time it's
+something wonderful. Oh dear!"--she sighed and laid the doll back in
+the cupboard in which the clean pillowcases and Frida's and her Sunday
+hats were together with all kinds of odds and ends--"how time flies.
+Now she's already nine."
+
+"Ten," corrected Frida. "I'm ten to-day, mother."
+
+"Right--dear me, are you already ten?" The woman laughed and shook
+her head, surprised at her own forgetfulness. And then she nodded to
+her husband: "Do you still remember, Lämke, when she was born?"
+
+"If I remember!" he said, pouring another cup out of the
+inexhaustible coffee-pot. "Those were nice carryings-on when she was
+born--none of that again, thanks. The girl gave you a lot of trouble.
+And me too; I was terribly afraid. But that's ten years since, old
+woman--why, it's almost forgotten."
+
+"And if it had happened a hundred years ago I shouldn't have
+forgotten it, oh no." The woman put out her hand as though to ward off
+something. "I was just going to make myself some coffee about four
+o'clock in the afternoon, like to-day, I had got such a longing for it,
+and then it started. I just got as far as the passage--do you remember,
+you were still working in Stiller's workshop at the time, and we lived
+in the Alte Jakob, fifth storey to the left?--and I knocked at
+Fritze's, the necktie maker's, whose door was opposite ours, and said:
+'Oh, please,' I said, 'send your little one as quickly as you can to
+Frau Wadlern, 10, Spittelmarkt, she knows all about it'--oh dear, how
+bad I felt. And I fell down on the nearest chair; they had the greatest
+difficulty to get me home again. And now it began, I could not control
+myself however much I tried; I believe they heard me scream three
+houses off. And it lasted, it lasted--evening came on--you came
+home--it was midnight--five, six, seven in the morning--then at last at
+nine o'clock Frau Wadlern said: 'The child, it'll soon be----'"
+
+"That's enough now, mother," interrupted the man, glancing sideways
+at the children, who were sitting very quietly round the table
+listening, with wide-open, inquisitive eyes. "All that's over long ago,
+the girl's here, and has been a credit to you so far."
+
+"She was born at eleven sharp," said Frau Lämke dreamily, nodding
+her head at the same time and then drawing a deep breath as if she had
+climbed a high mountain. And then, overwhelmed by the pain and pleasure
+of a memory that was still so extremely vivid after the lapse of ten
+years, she called her daughter, her first-born, to come to her on this
+her tenth birthday.
+
+"Come here, Frida." And she gave her a kiss.
+
+Frida, who was quite abashed at this unexpected caress,
+giggled as she cast a glance at her brother Artur and the two other
+boys, and then ran to the door: "Can we go and play now?"
+
+"Be off with you."
+
+Then they rushed out of the dark cellar, where the Lämkes lived, in
+high spirits.
+
+It was so light in the street, the sun shone brightly, a fresh wind
+was blowing and somebody was flying a kite far away across the field.
+There were very few people on foot and no carriages. The road belonged
+to them, and they rushed to it with a loud hallo. The one who reached
+the lamp-post at the corner first was captain.
+
+Wolfgang had never allowed anyone to deprive him of this honour
+before, but he had to be policeman to-day, he had been the last. He had
+followed the others slowly and silently. He had got something in his
+head to think about, which made him dull and hindered him from running;
+he had to think about it the whole time. He could not get rid of it
+even when he was in the midst of his favourite game; the only time he
+forgot it was when he was having a good scuffle with Hans Flebbe. The
+latter had scratched him in the face, and so he tore a handful of his
+hair out. They gripped hold of each other near the next garden-gate.
+
+Artur, a feeble little creature, had not taken part in the fight,
+but he stood with his hands in his pockets giving advice in a
+screeching voice to the two who fought in silence.
+
+"Give him it hard, Flebbe. Your fist under his nose--hard."
+
+"On with you, Wolfgang. Settle him. Show him what you can do."
+
+Frida hopped from one leg to the other, laughing, her fair plait
+dancing on her back. But all at once her laugh became somewhat
+forced and anxious: Hans, who was several years older than Wolfgang,
+had got him down on the ground and was hammering him in the face with
+his fist.
+
+"Flebbe, you--!" She pulled his blouse, and as that did not help she
+nimbly put her foot out. He stumbled over it, and Wolfgang, quickly
+taking advantage of it, swung himself up and belaboured his enemy.
+
+It was no game any longer, no ordinary scuffle between two boys.
+Wolfgang felt his face burn like fire, he had a scratch on his cheek
+that went down to his chin, there were sparks before his eyes. All that
+had made him so silent before was forgotten, he felt a wild delight and
+gave a loud roar.
+
+"Wolfgang, Wolfgang, no, that's not fair," cried the umpire. "That's
+no longer fun." Artur prepared to catch hold of Wolfgang, who was
+kneeling on his opponent's chest, by his two legs.
+
+A jerk and off he flew. Wolf now turned against him, trembling with
+rage; his black eyes gleamed. This was no longer a well-dressed child
+of better-class parents, this was quite an elementary, unbridled,
+unconquered force. He snorted, he panted--at that moment somebody
+called.
+
+"Wolfgang, Wolfgang."
+
+"Wolfgang," cried Frida warningly, "mother's calling. And your maid
+is standing near her beckoning."
+
+Frau Lämke's voice was again heard, coming from the door of her
+house: "Wolfgang, Wolfgang." And now Lisbeth's sharp tones were also
+heard: "Well, are you soon coming? You're to come home."
+
+Frau Lämke laughed. "Oh, leave them, they were so happy." But she
+got a fright all the same when she saw the boy's dirty clothes, and
+began to brush them. "My goodness, what a sight your pretty blouse
+looks--and the trousers." She turned red, and still redder when
+she noticed the fiery scratch on the young gentleman's cheek. "They've
+made a nice mess of you, the brats. Just you wait until I get hold of
+you." She shook her fist at Hans Flebbe and her own children, but her
+threat was not meant seriously. Then she said to Lisbeth in an
+undertone and with a twitching smile round the corners of her mouth, as
+she stood there motionless with indignation: "Wild brats, aren't they?
+Well, it'll always be like that, we were all like that when we were
+young." And, turning to Wolfgang again, she passed her gnarled hand
+over his fiery scratch: "That was fine fun, eh, Wolfgang?"
+
+"Yes," he said from the bottom of his heart. And when he saw her
+looking at him with eyes so friendly and full of comprehension, a great
+liking for the woman sprang up in his heart.
+
+It had been a splendid afternoon. But he did not speak of it as he
+went home with Lisbeth; she would have been sure to have turned up her
+nose at it.
+
+"Hm, the mistress is nice and angry," said Lisbeth--she never said
+anything but "the mistress" when speaking to the boy. "Why did you stop
+there such an everlasting time? Didn't you hear the mistress say you
+were to come home before it was dark?"
+
+He did not answer. Let her chatter, it was not at all true. He
+stared past her into the twilight. But when he came into the room on
+reaching home, he noticed that his mother had waited for him. She was
+certainly not angry, but his evening meal, an egg, a ham sandwich, the
+milk in a silver mug, everything neatly prepared, was already there,
+and she sat opposite his place with her hands folded on the white table
+cloth, frowning impatiently.
+
+The large hanging-lamp, which cast a bright light on the
+table and made her bent head gleam like gold, did not brighten up her
+face.
+
+His mother was in silk, in light silk, in a dress trimmed with lace,
+which only had something that looked like a very transparent veil over
+the neck and arms. Oh, now he remembered, she was to meet his father,
+who had not come home to dinner that day, in town at eight o'clock, and
+go to a party with him. Oh, that was why he had had to come home so
+early. As if he could not have got into bed alone.
+
+"You've come so late," she said.
+
+"You could have gone," he said.
+
+"You know, my child, that I'm uneasy if I don't know that you are at
+home." She sighed: "How could I have gone?"
+
+He looked at her in surprise: why did she say that? Had somebody
+been telling tales about him again? Why was she so funny?
+
+He gazed at her with wide-open eyes, as though she were a perfect
+stranger to him in that dress that left her neck and arms so bare. He
+put his food into his mouth lost in thought, and munched it slowly. All
+at once he had to think a great deal of what he had heard Frau Lämke
+tell. His father and mother had never told anything about when _he_ was
+born.
+
+And suddenly he stopped eating and launched the question into the
+stillness of the room, into the stillness that reigned between him and
+her: "When I was born, did it last such a long time too?"
+
+"When what?--who?--you?" She stared at him.
+
+She did not seem to have understood him. So he quickly swallowed the
+food he still had in his mouth and said very loudly and distinctly:
+"Did it last such a long time when I was born? It lasted very long when
+Frida was. Did you scream too, like Frau Lämke?"
+
+"I?--who?--I?" She turned crimson and then very pale. She closed her
+eyes for a moment, she felt dizzy; there was a buzzing in her ears. She
+jumped up from her chair, she felt she must run away, and still she
+could not. She clutched hold of the table with shaking hands, but the
+strong oak table had turned into something that shook uncertainly, that
+moved up and down, slid about. What--what was the boy saying? O
+God!
+
+She bit her lips, drew a deep breath, and was about to say: "Leave
+off asking such stupid questions," and yet could not say it. She
+struggled with herself. At last she jerked out: "Nonsense. Be quick,
+finish eating. Then off to bed at once." Her voice sounded quite
+hoarse.
+
+The boy's astonished look fell on her once more. "Why are you all at
+once so--so--so horrid? Can't I even ask a question?" And he pushed his
+plate aside sulkily and stopped eating.
+
+Why did she not answer him? Why did she not tell him something like
+what Frau Lämke had told her Frida? Had he not been born as well? And
+had not his mother been pleased, too, when he was born? It was very
+nasty of her that she did not tell him anything about it. Could she not
+see how much, how awfully much he wanted to know something about
+it?
+
+A burning curiosity was aroused in the child all at once. It
+tortured him, positively devoured him. He would not be able to sleep
+the whole night, he would have to think of it again and again. And he
+wanted to sleep, it was tiresome to lie awake--he wanted to know it he
+must know it.
+
+Käte saw how gloomy the boy's face had grown. Oh, the poor, poor
+boy. If only she had not let him go to those people. What had he been
+told there? What did he know? Had they made him suspicious? What
+did those people know? Oh, they had made him suspicious, otherwise
+why should he have tormented her with such questions?
+
+A burning dread filled her mind, and yet her hands and feet were
+growing as cold as ice. But her compassion was even greater than her
+dread--there he sat, looking so sad and with tears in his eyes. The
+poor child, who wanted to know something about his birth, and whom she
+could not, would not, dared not tell anything. Oh, if only she could
+think of something to say, only find the right word.
+
+"Wölfchen," she said gently, "you are still too young to hear about
+it--I can't tell you about it yet. Another time. You don't understand
+it yet. When you're older--I'll tell you it another time."
+
+"No, now." She had gone up to him, and he caught hold of her dress
+and held her fast. He persisted with the dull obstinacy that was
+peculiar to him: "Now. I will know it--I must know it."
+
+"But I--I've no time, Wölfchen. I have to go--yes, I really must go,
+it's high time." Her eyes wandered about the room, and she felt quite
+flustered: "I--no, I can't tell you anything."
+
+"You will not," he said. "And still Frau Lämke told her Frida it."
+The sulky peevish expression had disappeared from the boy's dark face,
+and made way for one of real sadness. "You don't love me half so much,
+not in the same way as Frau Lämke loves her Frida."
+
+She did not love him?--she did not love him?--Käte could have
+screamed. If any mother loved her child it was surely she, and still
+this child felt instinctively that something was wanting. And was not
+that mysterious bond wanting that binds a real mother so indissolubly
+and mysteriously, so intimately to her real child?
+
+"Wölfchen," she said in a soft tremulous voice, "my dear
+Wölfchen," and she stroked his hot forehead with her icy cold hand.
+"You don't mean what you are saying. We love each other so much, don't
+we? My child--my darling child, tell me."
+
+She sought his glance, she hung on his answer.
+
+But the answer she longed for did not come. He looked past her. "You
+see, you won't tell me anything."
+
+He seemed to harp on that. This burning desire had taken possession
+of him all at once. Somebody had instilled it into him, there could be
+no other explanation for it. "Who--" she asked hesitatingly--"who has
+told you--you should question me in this manner? Who?"
+
+She had taken hold of his shoulders, but he wriggled away from under
+her touch. "Oh, why are you so funny? No-nobody. But I should like to
+know it. I tell you, I should like to know it. It worries me so. I
+don't know why it worries me, that's all."
+
+It worried him--already? So early? Oh, then it was a suspicion, a
+suspicion--who knew from whence it came? He suspected what had happened
+in his earliest childhood unconsciously. What would happen? "O God,
+help me!" she cried to herself. The point now was to invent something,
+make something up, devise something. Those torturing questions must
+never, never be asked again.
+
+And she forced herself to smile, and when she felt that her smile
+was no smile, she stepped behind his chair and laid her cheek on the
+top of his head and both her hands round his neck. He could not look
+round at her in that way. And she spoke in the low voice in which fairy
+tales are told to children.
+
+"Father and I had been married a long time--just think, almost
+fifteen years!--and father and I wanted so much to have a dear boy or a
+dear little girl, so that we should not be so much alone. One day I was
+very sad, for all the other women had a dear child, and I was
+the only one who had not, and I walked about outside and cried, and
+then I suddenly heard a voice it came from heaven--no, a voice--a voice
+that--and--and----" She got bewildered, stammered and hesitated: what
+was she to say now?
+
+"Hm," he said impatiently. "And--? Tell me some more. And--?"
+
+"And next day you were lying in our cradle," she concluded hastily
+and awkwardly, in an almost stifled voice.
+
+"And"--he had pushed her hands away, and had turned round and was
+looking into her face now--"that's all?"
+
+"Well--and we--we were very happy."
+
+"How stupid!" he said, offended. "That's not 'being born.' Frau
+Lämke told it quite differently. You don't know anything about it." He
+looked at her doubtfully.
+
+She evaded his glance, but he kept his eyes fixed on hers. It seemed
+to her as if those scrutinising eyes were looking right down into her
+soul. She stood there like a liar, and did not know what more to
+say.
+
+"You don't know anything about it," he repeated once more, bitterly
+disappointed. "Good night." And he slouched to the door.
+
+She let him go, she did not call him back to give her his good-night
+kiss. She remained sitting without moving. She heard his steps in the
+room above. Now he opened the door to throw his boots into the corner
+outside, now she heard them fall--now everything was quiet.
+
+Oh, what was she to say to him later on when he asked her questions
+with full knowledge, a man justified in asking questions and demanding
+an answer to them? She let herself fall into the chair on which he had
+been sitting, and rested her head in her hands.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+The boy's friendship with the Lämkes was restricted. Her boy should
+never go there again. In a manner Käte had grown jealous of the woman
+who spoke of such improper things and did not mind what she said when
+children were present.
+
+Frau Lämke could not boast any longer of receiving a friendly
+greeting from the fine lady. Frau Schlieben walked past her house now
+without looking at her, and did not seem to hear her respectful: "Good
+morning, ma'am."
+
+"Tell me, Wolfgang, what have I done to your mother?" she asked the
+boy one day when she had been out shopping and saw him again for the
+first time for several months. He was leaning against the railing that
+enclosed the plot of ground opposite their house, staring fixedly at
+their door.
+
+He gave a start; he had not heard her coming. And then he pretended
+not to see her, and stood flicking the whip he held in his hand.
+
+"Are you never coming to see us again?" she went on. "Have you been
+having a fight with Artur or been quarrelling with Frida? No, it can't
+be that, as they've been looking out for you so long. I suppose your
+mother won't let you, is that it? Hm, we're not good enough any more, I
+suppose? Of course not. Lämke's only a porter and our children
+only a porter's children."
+
+Her good-natured voice sounded mortified, and the boy listened
+attentively. He turned scarlet.
+
+"Oh, I see, you are not allowed to. All right, stop away then, it's
+all the same to me." She turned round to go, full of anger.
+
+"Well, what do you want now?" A sound from him made her stop; she
+remained against her will. There was something in the glance the boy
+gave her, as he looked her full in the face, that kept her standing. "I
+know, my dear," she said good-naturedly, "it's not your fault. I know
+that."
+
+"She won't let me," he muttered between his teeth, cracking his whip
+with a loud noise.
+
+"Why not?" inquired the woman. "Hasn't she said why you're not to
+play with Artur and Frida any more? Artur has got a new humming top--oh
+my, how it dances. And Frida a splendid ball from the lady who lives in
+our house."
+
+The boy's eyes flashed. He put out his foot and gave such a violent
+kick to a stone in front of him that it flew over to the other side of
+the street. "I shall play with them all the same."
+
+"Come, come, not so defiant," said the woman admonishingly. "It may
+be the children were naughty--bless you, you can't be answerable for
+all they do. Listen, little Wolfgang, you must obey your mother if she
+won't hear of your coming." She sighed. "We've been very fond of you,
+my dear. But it's always like that, the friendship is very warm to
+begin with, and then all of a sudden the rich think better of it. And
+you really are too big to sit with us in the cellar now----"
+
+She was chattering on, when she felt someone seize hold of her hand.
+The boy held it in a very firm grip. Bending down to him--for
+she was tall and thin and her eyes were no longer very good owing to
+the demi-obscurity of their room--she saw that he had tears in his
+eyes. She had never seen him cry before, and got quite a fright.
+
+"Hush, hush, Wölfchen. Now don't cry, for goodness' sake don't,
+it isn't worth it." Taking hold of a corner of her coarse blue
+working-apron--she had just run away from the wash-tub--she wiped his
+eyes and then his cheeks, and then she stroked the hair that grew so
+straight and thick on his round head.
+
+He stood quite still in the street that was already so sunny, so
+spring-like, as though rooted to the spot. He who had shrunk from
+caresses allowed her to stroke him, and did not mind if others saw it
+too.
+
+"I shall come to see you again, Frau Lämke. She can say what she
+likes. I will come to you."
+
+As he went away, not running as he usually did, but slowly and
+deliberately, the woman followed him with her eyes, and was surprised
+to see how big he had grown.
+
+Käte had no easy time. However much she fought against Wölfchen
+having any intercourse with the Lämkes--positively stood out against
+it--the boy was stronger than she. He succeeded in gaining his end; the
+children were to come to him, even if he might not go to them. In the
+garden, at any rate--he had wrung that concession from his mother.
+
+They had had a struggle, as it were--no loud words and violent
+scenes, it is true, no direct prohibitions on her side, no entreaties
+on his, but a much more serious, silent struggle. She had felt that he
+was setting her at defiance, that the opposition in him increased more
+and more until it became dislike--yes, dislike of her. Or did she only
+imagine it?
+
+She would have liked to speak to her husband about it--oh,
+how she wanted to do it!--but she dreaded his smile, or his indirect
+reproach. He had said a short time ago: "It's no trifle to train a
+child. One's own is difficult enough, how much more difficult"--no, he
+should not say "somebody else's" again, no, never again. This child was
+not somebody else's, it was their own--their beloved child.  She gave
+way to Wolfgang. Anyhow there was no danger if the children came to him
+in the garden; she could always see and hear them there. And she would
+be good to them, she made up her mind the children should not suffer
+because she had already had to weep many a secret tear at night on her
+pillow on account of their friendship. She would make her boy fond of
+the garden, so fond that he would never long to go out into the street
+again.
+
+But when she hid the coloured eggs on Easter Sunday, the day she had
+given Wölfchen permission to invite the Lämkes and also the coachman's
+son into the garden, and put the nests and hares and chickens into the
+box-tree that was covered with shoots and among the clusters of blue
+scyllas that had just commenced to flower, something like anger rose in
+her heart. Now these children would come with their bad manners and
+clumsy shoes and tread down her beds, those flower-beds with which they
+had taken so much trouble, and in which the hyacinths were already
+showing buds under the branches that protected them and the tulips
+lifting up their heads. What a pity! And what a pity they would not be
+able to enjoy this first really spring day quietly, listening
+undisturbed to the piping blackbird. And they had even refused to come.
+Hans Flebbe had certainly accepted the invitation without showing any
+resentment--the coachman knew what was the right thing to do--but the
+Lämkes did not want to come on any account--that is to say,
+their mother did not wish it. Lisbeth had been sent there twice; the
+second time she had come back quite indignant: "Really, what notions
+such people have." "Dear boy, it's no good, they won't come," Käte had
+had to say. But then she had noticed how downcast he looked, and in the
+night she had heard him sigh and toss about. No, that would not do. She
+wanted to feel his arm, which he had flung so impetuously round her
+waist when she gave him permission to invite the children, round her
+neck too. And then she had sat down and written--written to this
+uneducated woman, addressing her as "Dear Madam," and had asked her to
+let the children look for eggs to please Wolfgang.
+
+Now they were there. They stood stiff and silent on the path dressed
+in their best clothes, and did not even look at the flower-beds. Käte
+had always imagined she understood how to draw out children extremely
+well, but she did not understand it in this case. She had praised
+Frida's bran-new, many coloured check frock, and had lifted up her fair
+plait on which the blue bow was dangling: "Oh, how thick!"--and she had
+remarked on Artur's shiny boots and Flebbe's hair, which was covered
+with pomade and which he wore plastered down on both sides of his
+healthy-looking footman's face with a parting in the middle. She had
+also made inquiries about their school report at Easter, but had never
+got any longer answer than "yes" and "no."
+
+The children were shy. Especially Frida. She was the eldest, and she
+felt how forced the friendly inquiries were. She made her curtsey as
+she always did, quickly and pertly like a water wagtail bobbing up and
+down, but her high girl's voice did not sound so clear to-day; the tone
+was more subdued, almost depressed. And she did not laugh.
+Artur copied his sister, and Hans Flebbe copied the girl too, for he
+always considered all she did worthy of imitation. The two boys stood
+there, poor little wretches, staring fixedly at the points of their
+boots and sniffing, as they dared not take out their handkerchiefs and
+use them.
+
+Käte was in despair. She could not understand that her Wolfgang
+could find pleasure in having such playfellows. Moreover, he was
+exactly like the others that day, taciturn and awkward. Even when they
+commenced to look for the eggs, the children set about it very
+stupidly; she had positively to push them to the hiding-place.
+
+At last, tired out and almost irritable, Käte went indoors; she
+would only stop there a short time. No, she could not stand it any
+longer, always to have to talk and talk to the children and still not
+get any answer out of them.
+
+But hardly had she reached her room, when she pricked up her ears; a
+cry reached her from outside that was as clear, as piercing and
+triumphant as a swallow's when on the wing. Children shouted like that
+when they were thoroughly happy--oh, she knew that from former times,
+from the time before Wölfchen had come. Then she had often listened to
+such shouts full of longing. Oh--_she_ had only to go, then the
+children were merry, then Wolfgang was merry. She felt very bitter.
+
+She had gone to the window and was looking out into the garden, with
+her forehead pressed against the pane. How they ran, jumped, hopped,
+laughed. As though they had been set free. They were trying to catch
+each other. Frida darted behind the bushes like a weasel, came into
+sight again with a sharp piercing laugh, and then disappeared once more
+with a shriek. Wolfgang set off after her wildly. He took no notice of
+the beds in which the flowers were growing, his mother's
+delight; he jumped into the middle of them, caring little whether he
+broke the hyacinths or the tulips, his one thought being to prevent
+Frida escaping.
+
+And the two others copied him. Oh, how they trampled on the beds
+now. All three boys were after the girl. The fair plait flew up and
+down in the sunshine like a golden cord, now here, now there. At last
+Wolfgang seized hold of it with a triumphant shout. Frida endeavoured
+to get it away, but the boy held it fast. Then she turned round as
+quick as lightning, and, laughing all over her face, grasped him firmly
+round the body with both hands.
+
+It was a harmless merry embrace, a trick of the game--the girl did
+not wish to be caught, she wanted to pretend that she had been the
+captor--it was quite a childish innocent embrace, but Käte reddened.
+She frowned: hardly had she turned her back, when the girl from the
+street showed herself.
+
+And the mother went into the garden again with a feeling of hatred
+towards the girl who, in spite of her youth, already endeavoured to
+attract her boy.
+
+If Käte had thought she would earn her boy's boisterous gratitude
+that evening after the children had gone home, loaded with Easter eggs
+and having had plenty to eat, she was disappointed. Wolfgang did not
+say a word.
+
+She had to ask him: "Well, was it nice?"
+
+"Hm."
+
+That might just as well mean yes as no. But she learnt that it had
+meant no when she bade him goodnight. It was his father's wish that he
+should kiss her hand; he did so that evening as usual with an awkward,
+already so thoroughly boyish, somewhat clumsy gesture. His dark smooth
+head bent before her for a moment--only a short moment--his
+lips just brushed her hand. There was no pressure in the kiss, no
+warmth.
+
+"Haven't you enjoyed yourself at all?" She could not help it, she
+had to ask once more. And he, who was candid, said straight out:
+
+"You always came just when it was nice."
+
+"Well then, I won't disturb you in the future." She tried to smile.
+"Good night, my son." She kissed him, but after he had gone there was a
+great terror in her heart, besides a certain feeling of jealousy at the
+thought of being superfluous. If he were like that now, what would he
+be later on?
+
+Wolfgang could not complain, his mother let the children come to him
+in the garden as often as he wanted them--and he wanted them almost
+every day. The friendship that had languished during the winter became
+warmer than ever now that it was summer.
+
+"Pray leave them," Paul Schlieben had said to his wife, as she
+looked at him with anxious eyes: what would he say? Would he really not
+mind Wolfgang rushing about with those children in his garden? "I think
+it's nice to see how the boy behaves to those children," he said. "I
+would never have thought he could attach himself to anybody like
+that."
+
+"You don't think it will do him any harm only to associate with
+those--those--well, with those children who belong to quite a different
+sphere?"
+
+"Nonsense. Harm?" He laughed. "That will stop of its own accord
+later on. I infinitely prefer him to keep to the children of such
+people than to those of snobs. He'll remain a simple child much longer
+in that manner."
+
+"Do you think so?" Well, Paul might be right in a manner. Wölfchen
+was not at all fanciful, he liked an apple, a plain piece of bread and
+butter just as much as cake. But all the same it would have
+been better, and she would have preferred it, had he shown himself more
+dainty with regard to his food--as well as to other things. She took
+great trouble to make him more fastidious.
+
+When the cook came to her quite indignant one day: "Master Wolfgang
+won't have any more of the good saveloy on his bread now, nor of the
+joint from dinner either, ma'am he says it's 'always the same.' What am
+I to do now?" she was delighted. At last she had succeeded in
+instilling into him that people do not swallow everything thoughtlessly
+without making any choice, just for the sake of eating something.
+
+If she had seen how he stuffed bread and dripping with liver and
+onion sausage on it down his throat at Frau Lämke's, or gobbled up
+potato cake baked in oil hot from the pan, she would not have been so
+delighted. But now she was grateful for every finer feeling she thought
+she observed in him, be it ever so small. She did not notice at all
+what tortures she caused herself in this manner.
+
+Oh, why did not her husband help her to train him? If only he would.
+But he no longer understood her.
+
+Paul Schlieben had given up remonstrating with his wife. He had done
+so several times, but what he had said had had no effect owing to the
+obstinacy with which she held fast to her principles. Why should he
+quarrel with her? They had lived so many years happily together--it
+would soon be their silver wedding--and was this child, this boy who
+could hardly write correctly as yet, into whose head the master was
+just drilling the first rules in Latin--this child who after all had
+nothing to do either with her or him--this outsider to separate him and
+his wife now after they had been married so long? Rather than that it
+would be better to let many things pass which it would perhaps
+have been better for Käte to have done differently. Let her see how she
+could manage the boy in her way--she was so very fond of him. And when
+he, no longer the plaything, had outgrown her delicate hands, then he,
+the man, was still there to make him feel a more vigorous hand.
+Fortunately there was no deceit in the boy.
+
+Paul Schlieben was not dissatisfied with Wolfgang. He certainly did
+not show any brilliancy at school, he did not belong to the top boys of
+his form by any means, but still he kept quite respectably in the
+middle of it. Well, there was no need for him to be a scholar.
+
+Paul Schlieben had not the same opinion as formerly of the things he
+used to find in his younger years the only ones worth considering:
+science, art, and their study. Now he was content with his calling as
+merchant. And as this child had come into his life, had come into that
+position without having done anything to bring it about himself, it was
+the duty of him who allowed himself to be called "father" by him to
+prepare a future for him. So the man mapped out a certain plan. When
+the boy had got so far as to pass the examination that entitled him to
+one year's service in the army, he would take him away from school,
+send him a year to France, England and possibly also to America, to
+firms of high standing in each country, and then, when he had started
+from the bottom and learnt something, he would make him a partner. He
+thought how nice it would be then to be able to lay many things on
+younger shoulders. And the boy would no doubt be reliable; one could
+see that already.
+
+If only Käte did not expect such a ridiculous amount of him. She was
+always after the boy--if not in person, then in her thoughts, at any
+rate. She worried him--it could not be helped, he was not an
+affectionate child--and did it make her happy?
+
+He had many a time given the boy an imperceptible, pacifying nod,
+when his eyes had sought his across the table as though asking for
+help. Yes, it was really getting more and more difficult to get on with
+Käte.
+
+           *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
+
+The Schliebens went away. The husband had consulted the doctor with
+regard to his wife, and he had ordered Franzensbad. But it was
+absolutely impossible for him to accompany her there. He would employ
+the time making some excursions on foot in the Tyrol, as it was a long
+time since he had had a holiday. A couple of pounds less in weight
+would do him no harm.
+
+But where was Wolfgang to be meanwhile?
+
+"At home," said his father. "He's old enough; eleven years. He is at
+school in the morning and in the garden in the afternoons, and Hofmann
+can come and see him every other day--to reassure you."
+
+It was an unbearable thought for the mother to leave the child
+alone. She would have preferred to take him with her. But Paul had got
+vexed: "What next?" And the doctor had said. "On no account."
+
+Then Käte had wanted to induce her husband to take the boy with him:
+"How healthy it would be for him to run about to his heart's content
+for once in a way."
+
+"It seems to me he does enough of that here. Really, Käte, the boy
+is as strong as can be, don't always make such a fuss about him.
+Besides, I'm not going to take him away from school when it's quite
+unnecessary."
+
+To be sure, he must not lose his place in the form, and possibly
+become one of the last. Käte was so ambitious on her son's account. But
+as the July holidays were almost over and she had not gone away with
+him during that time, which would have been more suitable, she would
+remain at home for the present. She declared she could not go away.
+
+However, the doctor and her husband arranged everything without her;
+the more nervously and anxiously she refused to go, the more urgent a
+thorough cure seemed to be to them. The day of departure had already
+been proposed.
+
+But Lisbeth gave notice beforehand: no, if the mistress was going
+away for so long and the master too, she would go as well. Remain alone
+with Wolfgang, with _that_ boy? No, that she wouldn't.
+
+She must have saved a tidy little sum during the well-nigh ten years
+she had been in the house, for even the promise of a rise could not
+keep her. She persisted in her wish to leave, and threw an angry look
+at the boy, whose laughing face appeared outside above the windowsill
+at that moment.
+
+Käte was beside herself. Not only because she did not want the
+servant she had had so long to leave her, but she had reckoned so
+firmly on Lisbeth keeping a watchful eye on the boy during her absence.
+And it pained her that she spoke of Wolfgang in such a tone full of
+hate. What had the child done to her?
+
+But Lisbeth only shrugged her shoulders without speaking, and looked
+sulky and offended.
+
+Paul Schlieben took the boy in hand. "Just tell me, my boy, what's
+been the trouble between you and Lisbeth? She has given notice, and it
+seems to me she's leaving on your account. Listen"--he cast a keen
+glance at him--"I suppose you've been cheeky to her?"
+
+The boy's face brightened: "Oh, that's nice, that's nice that she's
+going." He did not answer the question that had been put to him at
+all.
+
+His father caught him by the ear. "Answer me, have you been cheeky
+to her?"
+
+"Hm." Wolfgang nodded and laughed. And then he said, still
+triumphing in the remembrance: "It was only yesterday. I gave
+her a smack in the face. Why does she always say I've no right
+here?"
+
+The man did not tell anything of this to his wife; she would only
+have brooded over it. He had not punished the boy either, only shaken
+his finger at him a little.
+
+Lisbeth went away. She left the house, in which she had served
+so long and faithfully and in which she had had to put up with so
+much--as she weepingly assured her mistress, who was also overcome
+with emotion--like an offended queen.
+
+Another maid had been engaged, one in whom Käte had certainly not
+much confidence from the commencement--Lisbeth had straightway given
+her the impression of being much more intelligent--but there was no
+choice, as it was not the time of year when servants generally leave;
+and she had to go to the baths as quickly as possible.
+
+So Cilia Pioschek from the Warthe district came to the
+Schliebens.
+
+She was a big, strong girl with a face that was round and healthy,
+white and red. She was only eighteen, but she had already been in
+service a long time, three years as nurse at the farm bailiff's whilst
+she still went to school. Paul Schlieben was amused at her--she did not
+understand a joke, took everything literally and said everything
+straight out just as it came into her head--but Käte called her
+behaviour "forward." On the other hand the new maid was on better terms
+with the old cook and the man-servant than Lisbeth, as she put up with
+a good deal.
+
+"You can go away with your mind at rest," said Paul. "Do me this
+favour, Käte, don't oppose our plan any longer. In six weeks you will
+be back again quite well, God willing, and I shall not see these"--he
+gave a slight tap with his finger--"these small wrinkles at
+the corners of your eyes any more." He kissed her.
+
+And she returned his kiss, now when she was to be separated from him
+for the first time since their marriage for so long; for they had
+always, always travelled together before, and since Wölfchen had come
+to the house he had only once asked permission to leave her for a
+fortnight at the most. She had never left the child alone. And now she
+was to leave her dear ones for six long weeks. She clung to him. She
+had it on the tip of her tongue to ask him: "Why don't you go with me
+as you used to? Franzensbad and Spa--there's surely no great difference
+between those two?" But why say it if he had never thought of doing so
+for a moment? Years had gone by, and some of the tenderness that had
+united them so closely before, that they could only enjoy things
+together, and that made them feel they never could be separated, had
+disappeared under the winged flight of time.
+
+She sighed and withdrew quietly from the arm that he had thrown
+round her. "If anybody should come in and see us like this. Such an old
+couple," she said, trying to joke. And he gave a somewhat embarrassed
+laugh, as she thought, and did not try to hold her.
+
+But when the carriage which was to take her to the station in Berlin
+stood before the door early one morning, when the two large trunks as
+well as the small luggage had been put on the top of it, when he held
+out his hand to help her in and then took a seat beside her, she could
+not refrain from saying: "Oh, if only you were going with me. I don't
+like travelling alone."
+
+"If only you had said so a little earlier." He felt quite perturbed;
+he was exceedingly sorry. "How easily I could have taken you there the
+one day, seen you settled there and come back the next."
+
+Oh, he did not understand what she meant by "if only you were going
+with me." Stay with her there as well--that was what she had meant.
+
+Her sorrowful eyes sought the upstairs window behind which Wölfchen
+was sleeping. She had had to say goodbye to him the evening before, as
+she was leaving so early. She had only stood at his bedside with a mute
+good-bye that morning, and her gloved hand had passed cautiously over
+his head, that rested so heavily on the pillow, so as not to waken him.
+Oh, how she would have liked to have said some loving words to him
+now.
+
+"Give my love to the boy, give my love to the boy," she said
+quickly, hastily, several times after each other, to the cook and
+Friedrich, who were standing near the carriage. "And take good care of
+him. Do you hear? Give my love to the boy, give my love to the boy."
+She could not say anything more or think of anything more. "Give my
+love to----"
+
+Then the upstairs window rattled. Stretching both her arms out she
+rose half out of her seat.
+
+The boy put his head out. His cheeks, that were hot with sleep,
+showed ruddy above his white night-shirt.
+
+"Good-bye, good-bye. Come back well. And be sure to write to
+me."
+
+He called it out in a very contented voice and nodded down to her;
+and she saw Cilia's round, healthy, white and red face behind his and
+heard her friendly laugh.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+Käte did not know herself how she got over those weeks in which she was
+separated from her home. It was not so bad as she had imagined. She
+felt that a greater tranquillity had come over her, a tranquillity she
+never could feel at home; and this feeling of tranquillity did her
+good. She wrote quite contented letters, and her husband's bright
+accounts of "magnificent mountains" and "magnificent weather" delighted
+her. She also heard good news from Dr. Hofmann, who used to send her
+his reports most faithfully, as he had promised.
+
+"The boy is in the best of health," he wrote, "you need not worry
+about him, my dear lady. He certainly has to do without his playfellows
+at present, for a boy and girl are ill, and he feels bored when alone
+with the fat boy who is still left. He is generally by himself in the
+garden; Friedrich has given him some lettuce plants, and he has also
+sown some radishes. I have found him at his lessons as well."
+
+Thank God! It seemed to the woman as if she could breathe freely
+now, as though free from a load. She carried the letter from her old
+friend about in her pocket for a long time, read it whilst out for a
+walk, when sitting on a bench and in the evening when lying in bed. "A
+boy and girl are ill"--oh, the poor children. What could be the matter
+with them? But thank God, he was mostly by himself in the
+garden now. That was the best.
+
+She wrote a letter to her boy, a very bright one, and he answered
+her in the same strain. The letter in itself was certainly rather
+funny. "Beloved mother"--how comical. And the whole wording as though
+copied from a polite letter-writer. She made up her mind to enclose it
+in her next letter to her husband what would he say to it? "Beloved
+mother"--but it pleased her all the same, and also "Your obedient son"
+at the end of it. Otherwise the letter really contained nothing,
+nothing of what he was doing, not even anything about the Lämkes, also
+no longing "come back soon"; but it was written carefully, tidily and
+clearly, not such a scrawl as he usually wrote. And that showed her
+that he loved her.
+
+He had also enclosed a little picture, a small square with a border
+of lace paper, on which there was a snow-white lamb holding a pink
+flag. Under it stood in golden letters, "Agnus Dei, miserere
+nobis."
+
+Where could he have got that from? Never mind from where, he had
+wanted to give her something. And the small tasteless picture touched
+her deeply. The good boy.
+
+She put the picture with the lamb of God carefully among her
+treasures; it should always remain there. A tender longing came over
+her for the boy, and she could not imagine how she had been able to
+stand it so long without him.
+
+           *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
+
+August was over and September already almost half gone when Käte
+returned home. Her husband, who had returned before her, came to meet
+her; they met in Dresden, and their meeting was a very cordial one.
+He could never get tired of looking at her bright colour, her bright
+eyes; and she on her side found him very sunburnt, more
+youthful-looking and almost as slender as formerly.
+
+They sat hand in hand in the compartment he had had reserved for
+them; quite alone like two young lovers. They had an enormous amount to
+say to each other--there was nothing, nothing whatever that disturbed
+them. They gazed at each other very tenderly.
+
+"How delighted I am to have you again," she said, after he had told
+her a lot about his journey in a lively manner.
+
+"And I you." He nodded to her and pressed her hand. Yes, it really
+seemed to both of them as if they had been separated from each other
+for an eternity. He drew her still closer, held her as tightly as
+though she were a precious possession that had been half snatched away
+from him, and she clung to him, leant her head on his shoulder and
+smiled dreamily.
+
+Innumerable golden atoms danced on a slender slanting sunbeam before
+her half-closed eyes. The even rattling of the carriages and the calm
+feeling of a great joy in her heart lulled her to sleep.
+
+Suddenly she started up--was it a jolt, a shock? She had all at once
+got a fright, as it were: she had not asked anything about the child as
+yet!
+
+"Wölfchen--what's Wölfchen doing?"
+
+"Oh, he's all right. But now tell me, darling, how did you spend
+the whole day there? How was it divided? In the morning to the
+spring--first one glass, after that a second--and then? Well?"
+
+She did not tell him. "Wölfchen is surely well?" she asked hastily.
+"There must be something wrong--you say so little about him. I've had
+such a misgiving the whole time. Oh dear, do tell me." Her voice
+sounded almost irritable--how could Paul be so indifferent. "What's the
+matter with Wölfchen?"
+
+"The matter?" He looked at her in great surprise. "But why must
+there be something the matter with him? He's as strong as a horse."
+
+"Really? But tell me, tell me something about him."
+
+He smiled at her impatience. "What is there to tell about such a
+boy? He sleeps, eats, drinks, goes to school, comes home, runs out into
+the garden, sleeps, eats, drinks again and so on, vegetates like the
+plants in the sunshine. It's much better for you to tell me how you
+are."
+
+"Oh, I--I--" that seemed so superfluous to her all at
+once--"I--quite well, you can see that." How indifferent he was with
+regard to the child. And she--his mother--had been able to forget him
+so long too? She felt so ashamed of herself that she hastily raised her
+head from her husband's shoulder and sat up straight. Now they were not
+lovers any longer, only parents who had to think about their child.
+
+And she only spoke of the boy.
+
+Paul felt the sudden change in his wife. It depressed him: had they
+gone back to where they were before? Did she already feel no interest
+again in anything but the boy? He no longer felt any inclination to
+speak of his journey.
+
+The conversation became more and more monosyllabic; he bought a
+paper at the next station, and she leant back in her corner and tried
+to sleep. But she did not succeed in doing so, in spite of feeling very
+tired; her thoughts continued to revolve round the one point: so there
+was nothing the matter with him. Thank God! How indifferent Paul was,
+to be sure. Would Wölfchen be very delighted when she came home? The
+dear boy--the darling boy.
+
+She must have slept a little at last nevertheless, for she suddenly
+heard her husband's voice, as though far away, saying: "Get
+ready, darling; Berlin," and she started up.
+
+They were already among the innumerable lines that cross each other
+there. Then the train rushed into the glass-roofed station.
+
+"So we've got so far." He helped her out, and she began to tremble
+with impatience. Would this running up and down stairs, this crossing
+to the other side of the station, and then the waiting and watching for
+the train to the suburbs never come to an end? Would not Wölfchen be
+asleep? It would be dark before they got home.
+
+"Is the train soon coming? What time is it? Oh dear, what a long
+time we have to wait."
+
+"Calm yourself, the boy is waiting for you, never fear. He sits a
+long time with Cilia every evening; she hasn't much time for him during
+the day. A nice girl. You've been very fortunate there."
+
+She did not catch what he said, she was thinking the whole time how
+she would find him. Would he have grown very much? Have changed?
+Children at his age are said to change constantly--had he grown ugly,
+or was he still so handsome? But never mind! she used to attach more
+importance to his outward appearance--as long as he was good, very
+good, that was all that mattered now. In her thoughts she could already
+hear his shout of joy, already feel his arms round her neck, his kiss
+on her mouth.
+
+The wind, which had become pleasant towards evening after a day that
+had been hot in spite of it already being autumn, fanned her face
+without being able to cool her cheeks that glowed with emotion. As they
+stopped in front of the house, which, with its balconies full of bright
+red geraniums, lay prettily concealed behind the evergreen pines under
+the starry September sky, her heart beat as though she had run much too
+far and too quickly. At last! She drew a deep breath--now she
+was with him again.
+
+But he did not come running to meet her. How strange that he had not
+watched for her.
+
+"They'll be sitting in the veranda at the back," said her husband.
+"They always sit there in the evening." He remained behind a little.
+Let Käte see the boy alone first.
+
+And she hurried through the hall past the beaming cook and without
+seeing Friedrich, who had donned his livery after decorating all the
+rooms with the flowers he had raised himself; she neither admired
+his successes in the garden nor the cake the cook had placed on
+the festive-looking table. She ran from the hall into her small
+sitting-room and from thence through the dining-room, the door of
+which led to the verandah. The door was open--now she stood on the
+threshold--those outside did not see her.
+
+There was only one of the shaded lamps on the veranda table that was
+burning, but it was bright enough to light up the space around it. But
+Cilia was doing nothing. The stocking she was to darn lay in her lap;
+her right hand in which she held the long darning-needle rested idly on
+the edge of the table. She was leaning back a little; her face, which
+looked more refined and prettier in the twilight, was raised; she
+seemed to be lost in thought with her mouth half open.
+
+Nothing was to be seen of Wolfgang. But now his mother heard him
+speak in a tone full of regret: "Don't you know any more? Oh!" And then
+urgently: "Go on, Cilia, go on, it was so beautiful."
+
+Ah, now she saw him too. He was sitting at the girl's feet, on quite
+a low footstool, leaning against her knee. And he was looking up at her
+imploringly, longingly at that moment, looking at her with eyes that
+gleamed like dark polished agate, and speaking to her in a
+tone his mother thought she had never heard from him before: "Sing,
+Cillchen. Dear Cillchen, sing."
+
+The girl began:
+
+      "Quoth she with voice subdued, 'Cease from quaking--
+
+"Oh no.
+
+            "Not in wrath am I before thee standing--
+
+"No, not that, either.
+
+        "Only why did I, weak one, believe thy vows--
+
+"No, I don't know any more. Well, I never! And I've sung it
+so often when I was at home. At home in the village when me and my
+sweetheart went for a walk together. Dear, dear"--she stamped her
+foot angrily--"that I could forget like that."
+
+"Don't be vexed, Cillchen. You mustn't be vexed. Begin again from
+the beginning, that doesn't matter. I would love to hear it again,
+again and again. It's splendid."
+
+"Cillchen--Cillchen"--how playful that sounded, positively
+affectionate. And how he hung on her lips.
+
+Käte craned her neck forward; she was in the veranda now, but the
+two had not noticed her yet.
+
+The girl sang in a drawling, sing-song voice as she had sung in the
+village street at home, but the boy's eyes glistened and grew big as he
+listened to her. His lips moved as though he were singing as well:
+
+           "Satin and silk new-wed Henry cover;
+            Wealthy his bride, brought from land o' Rhine
+            But serpent stings tease the perjured lover,
+            Bid slumbers sweet his rich bed decline.
+
+           "The clock strikes twelve: sudden are appearing
+            Through curtain fringe, fingers, slender, white.
+            Whom sees he now? His once dear----"
+
+The singer came to a standstill--suddenly the sound of a
+deep-drawn breath passed through the veranda. The boy gave a terrified
+shriek--there she stood, there she stood!
+
+"Why, Wolfgang! Wölfchen!" His mother stretched out her arms to him,
+but he buried his head in the girl's lap.
+
+Käte frowned at the girl: what nonsense to sing such songs to
+him.
+
+"Oh, the mistress!" Cilia jumped up, her face crimson, and let
+everything she had on her lap stocking, darning ball, wool and
+scissors--fall on the floor; the boy as well.
+
+Why were they both so terrified? Wolfgang stared at her as if she
+were a ghost.
+
+He had risen now, had kissed his mother's hand, and mechanically
+raised his face to receive her kiss; but his face did not show that he
+was glad to see her. Or was it embarrassment, a boyish shame because
+she had taken him by surprise? His eyes did not gaze straight at her,
+but always sideways. Did he look upon her as a stranger--quite a
+stranger?
+
+An inexpressible disappointment filled the heart of the woman who
+had just returned home, and her voice sounded harsh without intending
+it as she told the girl to go away. She sat down on the seat near the
+table, which she had just vacated, and drew her boy toward her.
+
+"How have you got on, Wölfchen? Tell me--well?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+"Have you missed your mother a little?"
+
+He nodded again.
+
+"I've brought such a lot of pretty things for you."
+
+Then he grew animated. "Have you also brought something for Cilia?
+She could find use for a workbasket with all kinds of things in it very
+well: she has only an old one she used at school, you know. Oh, she can
+tell such splendid stories--ugh, that make you shiver. And how she can
+sing. Let her sing this one for you:
+
+           "A smart pretty maiden, quite a young sprig,
+            A farmer did choose for his bride;
+            Her favours, however, to a soldier man jig,
+            And sly to her old man she cried--
+
+"It's perfectly ripping, I can tell you."
+
+And he began to hum the continuation with a laugh:
+
+           "He had much better toss the hay, hooray,
+            The hay, hooray----"
+
+"Hush!" She put her hand to his mouth. "That's not at all a nice
+song--it's a horrid one. You mustn't sing that any more."
+
+"But why not?" He gazed at her with eyes round with amazement.
+
+"Because I don't wish it," she said curtly. She was indignant: she
+would give the girl a bit of her mind to-morrow, yes, to-morrow.
+
+Her cheeks were no longer hot. A cold wind blew through the veranda,
+which pierced her to the very heart. When her husband called out: "Why,
+Käte, what have you been doing with yourself? Do take off your things
+first," she quickly answered his call.
+
+The boy remained alone behind, and looked out into the mild night
+that was now quite dark, with blinking, dreamy eyes. Oh, how
+beautifully Cilia had sung. She would have to sing and tell him stories
+to-morrow as well. But if she were to come there again! Never mind,
+they would be sure to be able to find a place where they would be
+undisturbed.
+
+Käte did not sleep at all that first night, although she was
+dead-tired. Perhaps too tired. She had had a long talk about it with
+Paul after they were in bed. He had said she was right, that neither
+the one nor the other song was very suitable, but: "Good gracious, what
+a lot of things one hears as a child that never leave any trace
+whatever," he had said.
+
+"Not on _him_." And then she had said plaintively: "I've so
+often tried to read something really beautiful to him, the best our
+poets have written but he takes no interest in it, he has no
+understanding for it as yet. And for such--such"--she sought for an
+expression and did not find it--"for such things he goes into raptures.
+But I won't allow it, I won't stand it. Such things may not come near
+him."
+
+"Then let her go," he had said testily. He was on the point of
+falling asleep, and did not want to be disturbed any more. "Good
+night, darling, have a good night's rest. Now that you've come home
+again you'll do what you think right."
+
+Yes, that she would!
+
+From that day forth she never let the boy out of her sight. And her
+ears were everywhere. There was no reason to send the girl away--she
+was honest and clean and did her duty--only she must not be alone with
+Wölfchen again. Wolfgang was now in his twelfth year, it was not a
+maid's place to look after him any more.
+
+But it was difficult for Käte to live up to her resolutions. Her
+husband, of course, had claims on her too, and also her house and her
+social life; it was not possible to shake off, give up, neglect
+everything else for the one, for the child's sake. Besides, it might
+make her husband seriously angry with the child, if she constantly went
+against his wishes; she trembled at the thought of it. She had to go
+into society with him now and then, he was pleased when she--always
+well dressed--was in request as an agreeable woman. He was fond of
+going out--and went, alas, much, much too often. So she instructed the
+cook and the man-servant--even begged them earnestly to keep a watch on
+what was going on. They were quite amazed; if the mistress was so
+little satisfied with Cilia, she should give her notice; there
+would be girls enough on the 1st of January.
+
+Käte turned away angrily: how horrid of the servants to want to
+drive the other away. And if another one came into the house, might it
+not be exactly the same with her? Servants are always a danger to
+children.
+
+Wolfgang was developing quickly, especially physically. It was not
+that he was growing so tall, but he was getting broader, becoming
+robust, with a strong neck. When he threw snowballs with the Lämkes
+outside the door he looked older than Artur, who was of the same age,
+even older than Frida. He was differently fed from these children. His
+mother was delighted to notice his clear, fresh-looking skin, and saw
+that he had plenty of warm baths and a cold sponge down every morning.
+And he had to go to the hairdresser every fortnight, where his thick,
+smooth mop of dark hair, which remained somewhat coarse in spite of all
+the care expended on it, was washed and a strengthening lotion rubbed
+into it. The Lämkes looked almost starved when compared with him; they
+had not recovered from the effects of scarlet fever very long. If only
+Wölfchen did not get it too. His mother had a great dread of it. She
+had kept him away from the Lämkes until quite recently; but there was
+always the danger of infection at school. Oh dear, one never had peace,
+owing to the child.
+
+           *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
+
+They had had a splendid time out of doors. The lake that lies below
+the villas like a calm eye between the dark edges of the woods was
+frozen; Wolfgang and half of his form had been skating there. Käte had
+also walked up and down the shore for some time after their midday
+meal, watching her boy. How nicely he skated already. He was more
+secure on his legs and skated better than many of the lads who
+were describing the figure eight and circles, skating in the Dutch
+style and dancing with ladies. He was always trying to do all kinds of
+tricks already, he was certainly courageous. If only he did not fall
+down or tumble into the water! And he was always skating into the
+middle of the lake, where the wisps of straw had been placed to show
+that it was dangerous. It seemed to the mother that nothing could
+happen to him as long as she stood on the shore watching him
+incessantly. But at last her feet were quite frozen, and she had to go
+home.
+
+When the boy came home, as it was commencing to grow dark, he was
+very bright. He spoke of the skating with great glee. "Oh, that was
+ripping. I should like to run like that for ever--to-morrow, the day
+after to-morrow--every day--and further and further every time. The
+lake is much too small."
+
+"Aren't you tired at all?" inquired his mother, smiling at him. She
+never grew weary of gazing at him, he looked so beaming.
+
+"Tired?" The corners of his mouth drooped with a smile that was
+almost contemptuous. "I'm never tired. Not of such things. Cilia said
+she would like to skate with me some time."
+
+"Well, why not?" His father, who was sitting at the table drinking
+his coffee, smiled good-humouredly; it amused him to tease the lively
+boy a little. "Then your mother will have to engage a second housemaid,
+as long as there's ice on the ground."
+
+Wolfgang did not understand that he was bantering. He cried out,
+quite happy: "Yes, she must do that." But then his face grew long: "But
+she has no skates, she says. Father, you'll have to buy her some."
+
+"I'l be hanged if I will--well, what next?" His father gave a loud
+laugh. "No, my boy, with all due respect to Cilia, it would be
+carrying it a little too far to let her skate. Don't you agree with
+me?"
+
+He looked at his wife, who was rattling the cups loudly, quite
+contrary to her custom. She said nothing, she only gave a silent nod,
+but her face had quite changed and grown cold.
+
+The boy could not understand it. Why should Cilia not skate? Did not
+his mother like her? Funny. It was always like that, whenever there was
+anything he liked very, very much, she did not like it.
+
+He rested his head on both hands as he sat working at his desk: it
+felt so heavy. His eyes burnt and watered when he fixed them on his
+exercise-book--he must be tired, he supposed. His Latin would not be
+good. In his mind's eye he already saw the master shrug his shoulders
+and hurl his book on to the bench over so many heads: "Schlieben, ten
+faults. Boy, ten faults! If you don't pull yourself together, you'll
+not get your remove to Form IV. with the others at Easter."
+
+Pooh, he did not mind much--no, really not at all. On the whole
+nothing was of any importance to him whatever. All at once he felt so
+dead-tired. Why did she begrudge Cilia everything? She told such
+ripping stories. What was it she had told last night when his parents
+were out and she had crept to his bedside? About--about--? He could not
+collect his thoughts any more, everything was confused.
+
+His head sank on his desk; he fell asleep, with his arms stretched
+out over his books.
+
+When he awoke an hour might have passed by, but he did not feel
+rested all the same. He stared round the room and shivered. All his
+limbs ached.
+
+And they hurt him the whole night through, he could not sleep; his
+feet were heavy as he dragged himself to the lake to skate next
+afternoon.
+
+He returned home from skating much earlier than usual. He did not
+want to eat or drink anything, he constantly felt sick. "How green the
+boy looks to-day," said his father. His mother brushed his hair away
+from his forehead anxiously: "Is anything the matter with you,
+Wölfchen?" He said no.
+
+But when evening came round again and the wind whispered in the
+pine-trees outside and a ghostly hand tapped at the window--ugh, a
+small white hand as in Cilia's song--he lay in bed, shivered with cold
+in spite of the soft warm blankets, and felt his throat ache and his
+ears tingle and burn.
+
+"He's ill," his mother said very anxiously next morning. "We'll get
+the doctor to come at once."
+
+"Oh, it can't be anything much," said the man reassuringly. "Leave
+him in bed, give him some lemon to drink so that he can perspire, and
+then an aperient. He has eaten something that has disagreed with him,
+or he's caught cold."
+
+But the doctor had to be telephoned for at noon. The boy was
+slightly delirious and had a great deal of fever.
+
+"Scarlet fever!" The doctor examined his chest and then pulled up
+the cover again very carefully. "But the rash isn't quite out yet."
+
+"Scarlet fever?" Käte thought she would have sunk down on her
+knees--oh, she had always been so terribly afraid of that.
+
+           *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
+
+The clear frosty weather with the bright sunshine and a sky that was
+almost as blue as in summer was over. Grey days with a heavy atmosphere
+hung over the roof of the villa; Käte, who was standing at the window
+in the sick-room, staring out at the tops of the pines that were
+mourning in the dull mist with tired eyes, thought she had never seen
+anything greyer.
+
+The disease had seized hold of the boy with powerful grip, as though
+his vigorous, well-nourished body were just the sort of hot-bed for the
+flames of the fever to rage in. The doctor shook his head: the scarlet
+fever had taken such a mild form everywhere else except in this case.
+And he warned them against the boy catching cold, prescribed this and
+that, did his best--not only as his duty, no, but because he felt such
+deep and hearty sympathy for them--he had always been so fond of the
+robust lad. They all did their best. Every precaution was taken, every
+care--everything, everything was to be done for him.
+
+Käte was untiring. She had refused the assistance of a nurse; she
+violently opposed the wishes both of her husband and her old friend;
+no, she wanted to nurse her child alone. A mother does not grow tired,
+oh no.
+
+Paul had never believed that his wife could do so much and be so
+patient at the same time--she, that nervous woman, to be so untiring,
+so undaunted. She had always had a light step, now she could not even
+be heard when she glided through the sick-room; now she was on the left
+side of the bed, now on the right. She, whose strength gave way so
+easily even if her intentions were good, was always, always on the
+spot. There were many nights in which she did not get an hour's sleep.
+Next morning she would sit like a shadow in the large arm-chair near
+the bed, but still she was full of joy: Wolfgang had slept almost two
+hours!
+
+"Don't do too much, don't do too much," implored her husband.
+
+She put him off with: "I don't feel it. I'm so fond of doing
+it."
+
+How long was it to go on? Would, could her strength hold out? "Let
+the girl sit up with him for one night at least. She would be so glad
+to take your place."
+
+"Cilia? No."
+
+Cilia had offered her services again and again: oh, she would take
+such good care of him, she knew how, for a little brother of hers had
+died of scarlet fever. "Let me do it," she implored, "I shall not fall
+asleep, I'll take such good care of him."
+
+But Käte refused. It cut her to the heart every time she heard her
+boy say in his feverish dreams during the nights that were so long and
+so black: "Cillchen--we'll toss the hay--hooray--Cillchen."
+
+Oh, how she hated that round-cheeked girl with her bright eyes. But
+she feared her more than she hated her. In the hours of darkness, in
+those hours in which she heard nothing but the sick boy's moans and the
+restless beating of her own heart, this girl seemed to wander about in
+another form. She appeared to her out of the night, large and broad,
+she stationed herself boldly near the child's bed, and something of the
+triumph of power flashed in her eyes, that were otherwise so dull and
+unintelligent.
+
+Then the tired-out woman would press her hands to her throbbing
+temples, and stretch out her arms as though to ward her off: no, no,
+you there, go away! But the phantom remained standing at the child's
+bed. Who was it: the mother--the Venn--the maid--Frau Lämke? Oh, they
+were all one.
+
+Tears of anguish rolled down Käte's cheeks. How the boy laughed now.
+She stooped over him so closely that their breaths intermingled, as she
+had done once before, and whispered to him: "Your mammy is here, your
+mammy is with you."
+
+But he made no sign of recognition.
+
+Cilia's face was swollen with weeping as she opened the kitchen door
+in the basement on hearing somebody give a gentle knock. Frau Lämke
+greeted her in a whisper; she had always sent the children so
+far, but they had come home the day before with such a confusing
+report, that her anxiety impelled her to come herself. She wanted to
+ask how he was getting on. Two doctors' carriages stood outside the
+gate, and that had terrified her anew.
+
+"How is he? How is he to-day?"
+
+The girl burst into tears. She drew the woman into the kitchen in
+silence, where she found the cook leaning against the fireplace without
+stirring any pan, and Friedrich just rushing upstairs to answer the
+electric bell as if somebody were in pursuit of him.
+
+"Dear, dear!" Frau Lämke clasped her hands. "Is the boy so bad,
+really so bad?"
+
+Cilia only nodded and hid her streaming eyes in her apron, but the
+cook said dully: "It's about over."
+
+"About over? Will he really die Wolfgang, the boy?" The woman stared
+incredulously: that was impossible. But she had turned terribly
+pale.
+
+"Well, it's bad enough," said the cook. "Our doctor has called in
+another professor, a very well-known one--he was here yesterday--but
+they don't believe that they can do anything more. The illness has
+attacked the kidneys and heart. He no longer knows anybody, you know. I
+was in the room this morning, I wanted to see him once more--there he
+lay quite stiff and silent, as though made of wax. I don't believe
+he'll pull through." The good-natured woman wept.
+
+They all three wept, sitting round the kitchen table. Frau Lämke
+entirely forgot that she had made up her mind never to enter that
+kitchen again, and that her cabbage, that she had put on for their
+dinner, was probably burning. "Oh, dear, oh dear," she repeated again
+and again, "how will she get over it? Such a child--and an only child,
+whom she adored so."
+
+Upstairs the doctors were standing at the sick-bed, the old family
+doctor and the great authority, who was still a young man. They were
+standing on the right and the left of it.
+
+The rash had quite disappeared; there was not a trace of red on the
+boy's face now, and his eyes with their extremely black lashes remained
+persistently closed. His lips were blue. His broad chest, which was
+quite sunken now, trembled and laboured.
+
+At every gasping breath he took his mother gasped too. She was
+sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed, stiffly erect; she had sat
+like that the whole night. Her piercing eyes with their terrified
+expression flew to the doctors' grave faces, and then stared past them
+into space. There they stood, to the right and to the left--but there,
+there!--did they not see it?--there at the head of the bed stood
+Death!
+
+She started up with an inarticulate sound, then sank down again as
+though broken in spirit.
+
+The doctors had given the child, who was so dangerously ill, an
+injection; his heart was very weak, which made them fear the worst.
+Then the authority took leave: "I'll come again to-morrow"--but a shrug
+of the shoulders and a "Who knows?" lay in that "I'll come again
+to-morrow."
+
+The family doctor was still there; he could not leave them, as he
+was their friend. Käte had clung to him: "Help! Help my child!" Now he
+was sitting with Paul Schlieben downstairs in his study; Käte had
+wished to remain alone with the sick boy, she only wanted to know that
+he was near.
+
+The two men sat in silence with a glass of strong wine before them.
+"Drink, do drink, my dear friend," Paul Schlieben had said to the
+doctor; but he did not drink himself. How will she stand it, how will
+she stand it? That buzzed in his head the whole time. He was
+wrapped in thought, and there were deep lines on his forehead. And the
+doctor did not disturb him.
+
+Käte was on her knees upstairs. She had sunk down in front of the
+chair in which she had watched through all those anxious nights, and
+was holding her hands pressed against her upturned face. She was
+seeking the God on high who had once upon a time laid the child so
+benignantly in her path, and was now going to cruelly tear it away from
+her again. She cried to God in her heart.
+
+"O God, O God, don't take him from me. Thou must not take him from
+me. I have nothing else in the world beside him. God, God!"
+
+Her surroundings, all her other possessions--also her husband--were
+forgotten. She had only the child now. That one child that was so dear,
+so good, so clever, so excellent, so obedient, so beautiful, so
+charming, so extremely lovable, that had made her life so happy, so
+rich that she would be poor, poor as a beggar were he to leave her.
+
+"Wölfchen, my Wölfchen!"
+
+How dear he had always, always been; so entirely her child. She did
+not remember anything more about the tears she had shed on his account;
+if she had ever shed any, they had been tears of joy, yes, only tears
+of joy. No, she could not do without him.
+
+Starting up from the position in which she had been praying she
+dragged herself to his bedside. She took his body, which was growing
+cold, into her arms and laid it on her breast in her despair, and her
+glowing breath passed all over him. She wanted to let all her warmth
+stream into him, to hold him fast to this earth with the force of her
+will-power. When his breast fought for air, her breast fought too, when
+his heart-beat flagged, hers flagged too. She felt that his
+coldness was making her cold, that her arms were stiffening. But she
+did not let him go. She fought with Death standing at the head of the
+bed--who was stronger, Death or her love, the mother's love?
+
+Nobody could get her away from the boy's bed, not even the nurse
+whom Dr. Hofmann had sent out when he had at last been compelled to go
+to town that afternoon. The nurse and her husband attempted to raise
+her by gentle force: "Only an hour's rest, only half an hour's. In the
+next room or here on the sofa."
+
+But she shook her head and remained on her knees: "I'm holding him,
+I'm holding him."
+
+Evening came on. Then midnight. It had blown a good deal earlier in
+the day, but it was very quiet outside now. As quiet as death. There
+was no longer any wind to shake the pines around the house; they stood
+bolt upright against the clear, frosty sky, their tops as though cut
+out of stiff cardboard. The stars blinked mercilessly; the full moon
+was reflected on the glittering silvery surface of the frozen lake,
+from which the strong wind had swept all the damp snow the day before
+and made it clean. A terrible cold had set hi all at once, which seemed
+to lay hold of everything with its icy breath.
+
+The watchers shivered with cold. When Paul Schlieben looked at the
+thermometer, he was horrified to see how little it registered even in
+the room. Was the heating apparatus not in order? You could see your
+own breath. Had the servants forgotten to put coals on?
+
+He went down into the basement himself; he could have rung, but he
+felt he must do something. Oh, how terribly little you could do. His
+wife cowered in the arm-chair in silence now, with large, staring eyes;
+the nurse was half asleep, nothing stirred in the room. The boy, too,
+was lying as quietly as if he were already dead.
+
+A great dread took possession of the man, as he groped his way
+through the dark house. There was something so paralysing in the
+silence; all at once everything, the rooms, the staircase, the hall
+seemed so strange to him. Strange and empty. How the breath of youth
+had filled them with life before, filled them with the whole untamed
+thoughtlessness of a wild boy!
+
+He leant heavily on the banisters as he groped his way downstairs.
+Would the servants still be up?
+
+He found them all there. They sat shivering round the table in the
+kitchen, which was as cold as though there had not been a bright,
+blazing fire there all day. The cook had made some strong coffee, but
+even that did not make them any warmer. An icy cold crept through the
+whole house; it was as though the ice and snow from outside had come
+in, as though the chill breath of frozen nature were sweeping through
+the house too, from attic to cellar.
+
+It was no use throwing more coals into the jaws of the huge stove,
+or that the water that streamed through all the pipes was hotter.
+Nobody's feet or hands were any warmer.
+
+"We will try what a very hot bath will do for the patient," said the
+nurse. She had often seen this last remedy rewarded with success in
+similar cases.
+
+All hands were busy. The cook made a fire, the other two dragged the
+boiling water upstairs; but Cilia carried more and was quicker about it
+than Friedrich. She felt all the inexhaustible strength of youth in her
+that is glad to be able to do something. How willingly she did it for
+that good boy. And she murmured a short prayer in a low voice every
+time she poured a bucketful into the tub that had been placed near the
+bed. She could not make the sign of the cross, as neither of her hands
+was at liberty, but she was sure the saints would hear her all the
+same.
+
+"Holy Mary! Holy Joseph! Holy Barbara! Holy guardian angel! Holy
+Michael, fight for him!"
+
+The cook, who remained downstairs in the kitchen, looked for her
+hymn-book; she was a Protestant and did not use it every day. When she
+found it she opened it at random: the words would be sure to suit. Oh
+dear! She showed it to Friedrich, trembling. There was written:
+
+           "When my end is drawing nigh,
+            Ah, leave me not----"
+
+Oh dear, the boy was to die. They were both as though paralysed with
+terror.
+
+Meanwhile nimble Cilia was flying up and down stairs. She did not
+feel so dismayed any longer. He would not die, she was sure of that
+now.
+
+Whilst those who were in the room lifted him into the bath, Paul
+Schlieben and the nurse, and his mother placed her feeble hands
+underneath him to support him, Cilia stood outside the door and called
+upon all her saints. She would have liked to have had her manual of
+devotion, her "Angels' Bread," but there was no time to fetch it. So
+she only stammered her "Help" and "Have mercy," her "Hail" and "Fight
+for him," with all the fervour of her faith.
+
+And the boy's pallid cheeks began to redden. A sigh passed his lips,
+which had not opened to utter a sound for so long. He was warm when
+they put him back into the bed. Very soon he was hot; the fever
+commenced again.
+
+The nurse looked anxious: "Now ice. We shall have to try what
+ice-bags will do."
+
+Ice! Ice!
+
+"Is there any ice in the house?" Paul Schlieben hurried from the
+sick-room. He almost hit the girl's forehead with the door as she stood
+praying outside.
+
+Ice! Ice! They both ran down together. But the cook was at
+her wits' end too; no, there was no ice, they had not thought any would
+be required.
+
+"Go and get some, quick."
+
+The man-servant rushed off, but oh! before he could reach the shop,
+awake somebody and return, the flame upstairs might have burnt so
+fiercely that there was nothing left of the poor little candle. The man
+looked round, almost out of his mind with anxiety, and he saw Cilia
+with a chopper and pail running to the back-door.
+
+"I'm going to fetch some ice."
+
+"But where?"
+
+"Down there." She laughed and raised her arm so that the chopper
+glittered. "There's plenty of ice in the lake. I'm going to chop
+some."
+
+She was already out of the kitchen; he ran after her without a hat,
+without a cap, with only the thin coat on he wore in the house.
+
+The terrors of the night gave way before the faint hope, and he did
+not feel the cold at first. But when the villas were lost sight of
+behind the pines, when he stood quit alone on the banks of the frozen
+lake that shone like a hard shield of metal, surrounded by silent black
+giants, he felt so cold that he thought he should freeze to death. And
+he was filled with a terror he had never felt the like to before
+a--deadly fear.
+
+Was not that a voice he heard? Hallo! Did it not come from the wood
+that had the appearance of a thicket in the blue, confusing glitter of
+the moonlight? And it mocked and bantered, half laughed, half moaned.
+Terrible. Who was shrieking so?
+
+"The owl's screeching," said Cilia, and she raised the chopper over
+her shoulder with both hands and let it whiz down with all her might.
+The ice at the edge splintered, It cracked and broke; the sound was
+heard far out on the lake, a growling, a grumbling, a voice out of the
+deep.
+
+Would the boy die--would he live?
+
+The man gazed around him with a distraught look. O God! Yes, that
+was also in vain--would also be in vain. Despite all his courage he
+felt weak as he stood there. Here was night and loneliness and the wood
+and the water--he had seen it all before, it was familiar to him--but
+it had never been like this, so quiet and still, so alive with terrors.
+The trees had never been so high before, the lake never so large, the
+world in which they lived never so far away.
+
+Something seemed to be lurking behind that large pine--was a
+gamekeeper not standing there aiming at him, ready to shoot an arrow
+through his heart? The silence terrified him. This deep silence was
+awful. True, the blows of the chopper resounded, he could hear the echo
+across the lake, and nothing deterred Cilia from doing her work--he
+admired the girl's calmness--but the menace that lay in the silence did
+not grow any less.
+
+The distracted man shuddered again and again: no, he knew it
+now--oh, how distinctly he felt it--nobody could do anything against
+that invisible power. Everything was in vain.
+
+He was filled with a great grief. He seized hold of the pieces of
+ice the girl had chopped off with both hands, and put them into the
+pail; he tore his clothes, he cut himself on the jagged edges that were
+as sharp as glass, but he did not feel any physical pain. The blood
+dripped down from his fingers.
+
+And now something began to flow from his eyes, to drip down his
+cheeks, heavy and clammy--slow, almost reluctant tears. But still the
+hot tears of a father who is weeping for his child.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+"Dear me, how big you've grown!" said Frau Lämke. "I suppose we shall
+soon have to treat you as a grown-up gentleman and say 'sir' to
+you?"
+
+"Never!" Wolfgang threw his arms round her neck.
+
+The woman was quite taken aback: was that Wolfgang? He was hardly to
+be recognised after his illness so approachable. And although he had
+always been a good boy, he had never been so affectionate as he was
+now. And how merry he was, he laughed, his eyes positively sparkled as
+if they had been polished.
+
+Wolfgang was full of animal spirits and a never-ending, indomitable
+joyousness. He did not know what to do with himself. He could not sit
+still for a moment, his arms twitched, his feet scraped the ground.
+
+His master stood in terror of him. He alone, the one boy, made the
+whole of the fourth form that had always been so exemplary run wild.
+And still one could not really be downright angry with him. When the
+tired man, who had had to give the same lessons year after year, sit at
+the same desk, give the same dictations, set the same tasks, hear the
+same pieces read, repeat the same things, had to reprove the boy,
+something like a gentle sadness was mingled with the reproof, which
+softened it: yes, that was delight in existence, health, liveliness,
+unconsumed force--that was youth.
+
+Wolfgang did not mind the scoldings he got, he had no ambition to
+become head of his form. He laughed at the master, and could not even
+get himself to lower his head and look sad when his mother waved a bad
+report in his face in her nervous excitement: "So that's all one gets
+in return for all one's worry?"
+
+How ambitious women are! Paul Schlieben smiled; he took it more
+calmly. Well, he had not had the hard work that Käte had had. As the
+boy had missed so many lessons owing to his illness, she had sat with
+him every day, and written and read and done sums and learnt words and
+rules and repeated them with him indefatigably, and set him exercises
+herself besides the schoolwork, and in this manner he had succeeded in
+getting his remove into the fourth form with the others at Easter, in
+spite of the weeks and weeks he had been away from school. She had
+drawn a deep breath of relief: ah, a mountain had been climbed. But
+still the road was not straight by any means. When the first blackbirds
+began to sing in the garden he became No. 15 in his form--that is to
+say, an average pupil--when the first nightingale trilled he was not
+even among the average, and when summer came he was among the last in
+his form.
+
+It was too tempting to sow, plant, and water the garden, to lie on
+the grass in the warm sunshine and have a sun bath. And still better to
+rove about out of doors along the edges of the wood or bathe in the
+lake and swim far out, so far that the other boys would call out to
+him: "Come back, Schlieben, you'll be drowned."
+
+"Be thankful that there is so much life in him," said Paul to his
+wife. "Who would have thought only six months ago that he would ever be
+like this? It is fortunate that he isn't fond of sitting indoors.
+'Plenty of fresh air,' Hofmann said, 'plenty of movement. Such
+a severe illness always does some harm to the constitution.' So let us
+choose the lesser of two evils. But still the rascal must remember that
+he has duties to perform as well."
+
+It was difficult to combine the two. Käte felt she was becoming
+powerless. When the boy's eyes, which were as bright as sloes, implored
+her to let him go out, she dared not keep him back. She knew he had not
+finished his school-work, had perhaps not even commenced it; but had
+not Paul said: "One must choose the lesser of two evils," and the
+doctor: "Such a severe illness always leaves some weakness behind,
+therefore a good deal of liberty"?
+
+She suddenly trembled for his life; the horror of his illness was
+still fresh in her mind. Oh, those nights! Those last terrible hours in
+which the fever had risen higher and higher after the hot bath, the
+pulse and the poor heart had rushed along at a mad pace, until the ice
+from the lake had at last, at last brought coolness, and he had fallen
+into a sound sleep, which, when the sky commenced to glow in the east
+and a new day had looked in through the window, had turned into a
+beneficial, miraculous perspiration.
+
+So she had to let the boy run about.
+
+But that he hung on Cilia's arm when she had to go an errand in the
+evening, that he hurried after her when she only took a letter to the
+box, or that he brought her a chair when she wanted to sit with her
+mending-basket under the elderberry bush near the kitchen door was not
+to be tolerated. When Käte heard that Cilia had not gone further than
+the nearest pines on the edge of the wood when it was her Sunday out,
+and had sat there for hours with the boy on the grass, there was a
+scene.
+
+Cilia wept bitter tears. What had she done? She had only told
+Wölfchen about her home.
+
+"What's your home to him? He is to mind his own business and
+you yours." Käte was about to say still more, to cry out: "Leave
+off telling him your private concerns, I won't have it," but she
+controlled herself, although with difficulty. She could have boxed this
+round-cheeked girl's ears, as she looked at her so boldly with her
+bright eyes. Even Frida Lämke was preferable to her.
+
+But Frida did not show herself very often now. She already wore a
+dress that reached to her ankles, attended a sewing class out of
+school-hours, and after her confirmation, which was to be a year next
+Easter she was to go "to business," as she said very importantly.
+
+"I shall give her notice," said Käte one evening, when Cilia had
+cleared the table and she was sitting quite alone with her husband.
+
+"Oh!" He had not really been listening. "Why?"
+
+"Because of her behaviour." The woman's voice vibrated with
+suppressed indignation more than that, with passionate excitement. Her
+eyes, which were generally golden brown and gentle, became dark and
+sombre.
+
+"Why, you're actually trembling! What is the matter now?" He laid
+the paper he was about to read aside, quite depressed. There was some
+trouble with the boy again; nothing else excited her in that
+manner.
+
+"I can't have it any longer." Her voice was hard, had lost its
+charm. "And I won't stand it. Just think, when I came home to-day I was
+away an hour towards evening, hardly an hour good gracious, you cannot
+always be spying, you demean yourself in your own eyes." Her hands
+closed over each other, gripped each other so tightly that the knuckles
+showed quite white. "I had left him at his desk, he had so much to do,
+and when I returned not a stroke had been done. But I heard--heard them
+downstairs, at the back of the house near the kitchen door."
+
+"Heard whom?"
+
+"Wolfgang and her, of course--Cilia. I had only been away quite a
+short time."
+
+"Well--and then?"
+
+She had stopped and sighed, full of a deep distress which drove away
+the anger from her eyes.
+
+"He put his arms round her neck from behind. And he kissed her.
+'Dear Cillchen,' he said. And she drew him towards her, took him almost
+on her lap--he is much too big for that, much too big--and spoke softly
+to him the whole time."
+
+"Did you understand what she said?"
+
+"No. But they laughed. And then she gave him a slap behind--you
+should only have seen it--and then he gave her one. They took turns to
+slap each other. Do you consider that proper?"
+
+"That goes too far, you are right. But it's nothing bad. She is a
+good girl, quite unspoilt as yet, and he a stupid boy. Surely you don't
+intend to send the girl away for that? For goodness' sake, Käte, think
+it well over. Did they see you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, then, don't do it. It's much wiser. I'll speak to the boy
+some time when I find an opportunity."
+
+"And you think I couldn't--I can't--I mustn't send her away?" Käte
+had grown quite dejected in the presence of his calmness.
+
+"There's no reason whatever for it." He was fully convinced of what
+he said, and wanted to take up his paper again. Then he caught her
+eyes, and stretched out his hand to her across the table. "Dear child,
+don't take everything so much to heart. You're making your life
+miserable--your own, the boy's--and--yes, mine too. Take
+things easier. There! And now I'll read my paper at last."
+
+Käte got up quietly--he was all right, he was reading. She had not
+given him her hand. His calmness hurt her. It was more than calmness,
+it was indifference, slackness. But she would not be slack, no, she
+would not get tired of doing her duty.
+
+And she went after her boy.
+
+Wolfgang was already upstairs in his room. But he had first crept
+softly up to Cilia, who was drying the plates and dishes in the
+kitchen, from behind, had given her a pinch and then thrown both arms
+round her and begged for a story: "Tell me something"--but she would
+not.
+
+"I don't know anything."
+
+"Oh, do tell me something. About the procession. Or even if it's
+only about your sow. How many little ones did she have last time?"
+
+"Thirteen." Cilia could not resist _that_ question, but still she
+remained taciturn.
+
+"Is your cow going to calve this year too? How many cows has the
+biggest farmer near you? You know, the one down near the Warthe,
+Hauländer. Do tell me." He knew all about everything, knew all the
+people at her home and all the cattle. He could never get tired of
+hearing about them and about the country where the bells tinkle for
+matins and vespers or call with a deep, solemn sound for high mass on
+Sundays. He was so very fond of hearing about the country, about the
+large fields in which the blue flax and golden rye grow, about the
+bluish line of forest on the horizon, about the wide, wide stretches of
+heath, where the bees buzz busily over the blooming heather and the
+fen-fowls screech near the quiet waters in the evening, when the sky
+and the sun are reflected red in them.
+
+"Tell me about it," he begged and urged her.
+
+But she was reluctant and shook her head. "No, go away; no, I won't.
+The mistress has been looking at me like that again this evening--oh,
+like--no, I can't explain. I believe she's going to give me
+notice."
+
+He had crept up to his room in a sulk and undressed himself. He had
+grown so accustomed to it that he could not sleep now when Cilia did
+not tell him something first. Then he fell into such a quiet sleep, and
+dreamt so beautifully of wide stretches of heather covered with red
+blossoms, and of quiet waters near which the fen-fowls screeched, which
+he went out to shoot.
+
+Oh, that Cilia, what was the matter with her to-day? How stupid!
+"The mistress is going to give me notice." Nonsense, as if he would
+stand that. And he clenched his hand.
+
+Then the door creaked.
+
+He craned his neck forward: was it she? Was she coming, after all?
+It was his mother. He slipped hastily into bed and drew the covering up
+to his forehead. Let her think he was already asleep.
+
+But she did not think so and said: "So you're still awake?" and she
+sat down on the chair near his bed on which his things were. Cilia
+always sat there too. He compared the two faces in silence. Oh, Cilia
+was much prettier, so white and red, and she had dimples in her fat
+cheeks when she laughed, and she was so jolly. But his mother was not
+ugly either.
+
+He looked at her attentively; and then suddenly a hitherto quite
+unknown feeling came over him: oh, what narrow cheeks she had. And the
+soft hair near her temples--was--was----
+
+"You're getting quite grey," he said all at once, quite dismayed,
+and stretched out his finger. "There, quite grey."
+
+She nodded. A look of displeasure lengthened her delicate face, and
+made it appear still narrower.
+
+"You should laugh more," he advised. "Then people would never see
+you had wrinkles."
+
+Wrinkles--oh yes, wrinkles. She passed her hand over her forehead
+nervously. What uncharitable eyes children had. Youth and beauty had no
+doubt disappeared for ever--but it was this boy who had deprived her of
+the last remnant of them. And it sounded like a reproach as she said:
+"Sorrow has done that. Your serious illness and--and----" she
+hesitated: should she begin now about what troubled her so?"--and many
+other things," she concluded with a sigh.
+
+"I can understand that," he said naïvely. "You're so old, too."
+
+Well, he was honest, she had to confess that; but he said it without
+a trace of tender feeling. She could not suppress a slight irritation;
+it was not pleasant to be reminded of your age by your child. "I'm not
+so old as all that," she said.
+
+"Oh, I don't mean either that you're _very_ old. But still much
+older than Cilia, for example."
+
+She winced--he always brought in that person.
+
+"Cilia is a pretty girl, don't you think so, mother?"
+
+She got so angry that she lost control of herself. "Do you think
+so?" she said curtly, rising. "She's leaving on the first of
+October."
+
+"She's leaving? Oh no!" He stared at her incredulously.
+
+"Yes, yes." She felt she was cruel, but could she be otherwise? His
+disbelieving tone expressed such terror. "She's leaving. I'm going to
+give her notice."
+
+"Oh no, you won't." He laughed. "You won't do that."
+
+"Yes, I will." She emphasised each word; it sounded irrevocable.
+
+He still shook his head incredulously: it could not be. But then he
+suddenly remembered Cilia's depression and her words that evening: "I
+suppose she's going to give me notice." "No, you shan't do so." He
+started up in bed.
+
+"I shall not ask you."
+
+"No, you shan't, you shan't," he cried. All at once Cilia moved
+across his mental vision, her ingenuous eyes looked at him so sadly--he
+liked her so much--and she was to go? He was seized with fury.
+
+"She shan't go, she shan't go," he howled, and shouted it louder and
+louder: "She shan't go." He was in a mad, indescribable frame of mind.
+He threw himself back, stretched himself out and struck the bedstead
+with his feet, so that it creaked in all the joints.
+
+Käte was terrified; she had never seen him so violent before. But
+how right she was. His behaviour showed her that plainly. No, she must
+not call herself cruel even if his tears flowed; it was necessary that
+Cilia went. But she was sorry for him.
+
+"Wölfchen," she said persuasively, "why, Wölfchen. She tried to
+soothe him, and drew up his cover that had fallen down with gentle
+hand. But as soon as she touched him he pushed her away.
+
+"Wölfchen--Wölfchen--you with your Wölfchen! As if I were a baby
+still. My name is Wolfgang. And you are unjust--envious--you only want
+her to go away because I like her better, much better than you."
+
+He shouted in her face, and she became deathly white. She felt as
+though she must scream with pain. She who had suffered so much for his
+sake was of less account than Cilia in his opinion? All at once she
+remembered all the burning and ineffaceable tears she had
+already shed for his sake. And of all the hard hours during his illness
+none had been so hard as this one.
+
+She forgot that he was still a child, a naughty boy. Had he not said
+himself: "I'm not a child any longer"? His behaviour seemed
+unpardonable. She left the room without a word.
+
+He followed her with eyes full of dismay: had he hurt her? All at
+once he was conscious that he had done so--oh no, he did not want to do
+that. He had already got half out of bed to run after her on his bare
+feet, to hold her fast by her dress and say: "Are you angry?"--when he
+suddenly remembered Cilia again. No, it was too bad of her to tell her
+to go.
+
+He wept as he crept under the bed-clothes and folded his hands.
+Cilia had told him he was to pray to the Holy Virgin, to that smiling
+woman in the blue mantle covered with stars, who sits on a throne over
+the altar with the crown on her head. She healed everything. And when
+she asked God in Heaven for anything, He did it. He would pray to her
+now.
+
+Cilia had once taken him to her church, when his mother was at the
+baths and his father in the Tyrol. He had had to promise her not to
+tell anybody about it, and the charm of the secrecy had increased the
+charm of the church. An unconscious longing drew him to those altars,
+where the saints looked so beautiful and where you could see God
+incarnate, to whom he had been told to pray as to a father. He had
+never liked the church so much which his mother sometimes went to, and
+in which he had also been.
+
+That longing, which had clung to him ever since like a fairy tale,
+now came over him forcibly and vividly. Yes, it was beautiful to be
+able to kneel like that before the Holy Virgin, who was lovelier than
+all women on earth, and hardly had you laid your request
+before her when its fulfilment was insured. Splendid!
+
+"Hail Mary!" Cilia's prayer began like that. He did not know any
+more, but he repeated the words many times. And now he smelt the
+incense again, which had filled the whole church with perfume, heard
+again the little bell announcing the transubstantiation, saw the Lord's
+anointed with the splendid stole over his chasuble bow first to the
+left of the altar, then to the right. Oh, how he envied the boys in
+their white surplices, who were allowed to kneel near him. Blessed
+harmonies floated under the high, arched dome:
+
+           "Procedenti ab utroque
+            Compar sit laudatio----"
+
+They had sung something like that. And then the priest had raised
+the gleaming monstrance on high, and all the people had bowed deeply:
+_Qui vivis et regnas in sæcula sæculorum._ Yes, he had remembered
+_that_ Latin well. He would never forget it all his life.
+
+Cilia had had to nudge him and whisper: "Come, we're going now,"
+otherwise he would have remained kneeling much longer in the
+magnificent and still cosy church, in which nothing was cold and
+strange.
+
+If only he could go there again. Cilia had certainly promised to
+take him if she found an opportunity--but now she was to go away, and
+the opportunity would never come. What a pity. He was filled with a
+great regret and defiance at the same time; no, he would not go to the
+church his mother went to, and where the boys from his school went.
+
+And he whispered again, "Hail, Mary!" and the hot and angry tears
+that had been running down his cheeks ceased as he whispered it.
+
+He had climbed out of his bed, and was kneeling by the side of it on
+the carpet, his clasped hands raised in prayer, as he had seen
+the angels do in the altar-piece. His eyes sparkled and were wide open,
+his defiance melted into fervour.
+
+When he at last got into bed again, and his excessive fatigue had
+calmed his agitation and he had fallen asleep, he dreamt of the
+beautiful Virgin Mary, whose features were well known to him, and he
+felt his heart burn for her.
+
+           *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
+
+It was a fortnight later, the first of October, that Cilla left her
+situation. Käte had given her a good character; it was still not clear
+to the girl why she had been dismissed, even when she stood in the
+street. The lady wanted an older, more experienced maid--that was what
+she had said--but Cilia did not quite believe that, she felt vaguely
+that there was another reason: she simply did not like her. She would
+go home for a short time before taking another situation, she felt
+homesick, and it had been difficult for her to leave the place--on
+account of the boy. How he had cried, even yesterday evening. He had
+hung on her neck and kissed her many times like a little child, that
+big boy. And there was so much he still wanted to say to her. They had
+been standing together upstairs in the dark passage, and then the
+mistress's step as she came up the stairs had driven them away; he was
+just able to escape to his room.
+
+And she had not even been able to say good-bye to him to-day, the
+good boy. For he had hardly gone to school when her mistress said:
+"There, now you can go." She was quite taken aback, for she had not
+reckoned on getting away before the afternoon. But the new housemaid,
+an elderly person with a pointed face, had already come, so what was
+there for her to do? So all she had done was to wrap up all the
+pictures of the saints she kept in her prayer-book quickly in
+paper, and stick them into the drawer in the table that stood at the
+boy's bedside--he would be sure to find them there--after she had
+written "Love from Cilia" on them. Then she had gone away.
+
+Cilia had sent her basket on by goods train, and she had nothing to
+carry now but a little leather bag and a cardboard box tied with
+string. So she could get on quickly. But on her way to the station she
+stopped all at once: the school would be over at one o'clock, it was
+almost eleven now, it really did not matter if she left somewhat later.
+How pleased he would be if she said good-bye to him once more and
+begged him not to forget her.
+
+She turned round. She would be sure to find a bench near the school,
+and there she would wait for him.
+
+The passers-by looked curiously at the young girl who had posted
+herself near the school like a soldier, stiff and silent. Cilia had not
+found a bench; she dared not go far from the entrance for fear of
+missing him. So she placed the cardboard box on the ground, and stood
+with her little bag on her arm. Now and then she asked somebody what
+time it was. The time passed slowly. At last it was almost one. Then
+she felt her heart beat: the good boy! In her thoughts she could
+already see his dark eyes flash with joy, hear his amazed: "Cillchen!
+You?"
+
+Cilia pushed her hat straight on her beautiful fair hair, and stared
+fixedly at the school-door with a more vivid red on her red cheeks: the
+bell would soon ring--then he would come rushing out--then--. All at
+once she saw the boy's mother. She? Frau Schlieben was approaching the
+door with quick steps. Oh dear!
+
+A few quick bounds brought her behind a bush: did she intend
+fetching her Wolfgang herself to-day? Oh, then she would have
+to go. And she stole away to the station, full of grief. The joy that
+had made her heart beat had all disappeared; but she still had one
+consolation: Wolfgang would not forget her. No, never!
+
+Wolfgang was much surprised to see his mother. Surely he need not be
+fetched? She had never done that herself before. He was disagreeably
+impressed. Was he a baby? The others would make fun of him. He felt
+very indignant, but his mother's kindness disarmed him.
+
+She was specially tender that day, and very talkative. She inquired
+about everything they had been doing at school, she did not even scold
+when he confessed he had had ten faults in his Latin composition; on
+the contrary, she promised he should make an excursion to Schildhorn
+that afternoon. It was such a beautiful, sunny autumn day, almost like
+summer. The boy sauntered along beside her, quite content, dangling his
+books at the end of the long strap. He had quite forgotten for the
+moment that Cilia was to leave that day.
+
+But when they came home and the strange maid answered the door, he
+opened his eyes wide, and when they sat down at table and the new girl
+with the pointed face, who did not look at all like a servant, brought
+in the dishes, he could not contain himself any longer.
+
+"Where's Cilia?" he asked.
+
+"She has gone away--you know it," said his mother in a casual tone
+of voice.
+
+"Away?" He turned pale and then crimson. So she had gone without
+saying good-bye to him! All at once he had no appetite, although he had
+been so hungry before. Every mouthful choked him; he looked stiffly at
+his plate--he dared not look up for fear of crying.
+
+His parents spoke of this and that--all trivial matters--and a voice
+within him cried: "Why has she gone without saying good-bye to me?" It
+hurt him very much. He could not understand it--she was so fond of him.
+How could she have found it in her heart to go away without letting him
+know where he could find her? His Cillchen to leave him like that! Oh,
+she could not have done so--not of her own free will, oh no, no. And
+just when he was at school.
+
+He was seized with a sudden suspicion: he had not thought of such a
+thing before, but now it was clear to him--oh, he was not so stupid as
+all that--she had had to go just because he was at school. His mother
+had never liked Cilia, and she had not wanted her to say good-bye to
+him.
+
+The boy cast angry glances at his mother from under his lowered
+lashes: that was horrid of her.
+
+He rose from the table full of suppressed wrath, and dragged his
+feet up the stairs to his room. He found the pictures of the saints
+that had been stuck into his drawer at once--"With love from
+Cilia"--and then he gave way to his fury and his grief. He stamped with
+his feet and kissed the gaudy pictures, and his tears made lots of dark
+spots on them. Then he rushed downstairs into the dining-room, where
+his father was still sitting at the table and his mother packing cakes
+and fruit into her small bag. Oh, she had wanted to go for a walk with
+him. That would be the very last thing he would do.
+
+"Where has Cilia gone? Why haven't you let her say good-bye to
+me?"
+
+His mother gazed at him, petrified; how did the boy guess her innermost
+thoughts? She could not utter a word. But he did not let her speak
+either, his boy's voice, which was still high, cracked and then
+became deep and hoarse: "Yes, you--oh, I know it quite well--you did
+not want her to say good-bye to me. You've sent her away so that I
+should not see her any more--yes, you! That's horrid of you!
+That's--that's vile!" He went towards her.
+
+She shrank back slowly--he raised his hands--was he going to strike
+her?
+
+"You rascal!" His father's hand seized him by the scruff of his
+neck. "How dare you? Raise your hand against your mother?" The angry
+man shook the boy until his teeth chattered, and did so again and
+again. "You--you rascal, you good-for-nothing!"
+
+"She didn't let her say good-bye to me," the boy screamed as an
+answer. "She's sent her away because--because----"
+
+"You still dare to speak to----"
+
+"Yes! Why didn't she let Cilia say good-bye to me? She never did
+anything to her. I loved her and it was for that, only for that----"
+
+"Silence!" He gave the boy a violent blow on the mouth. The man no
+longer recognised himself; his calmness had abandoned him, the boy's
+obstinacy made him lose his temper. How he struggled against the hand
+that was holding him, how he stared at him with his bold eyes. How
+dared he shout at him like that? "You"--he shook him--"so you are so
+insolent? So ungrateful? What would have become of you? You would have
+died in misery--yes--it's she who has made something out of you--who
+picked you up out of----"
+
+"Paul!" His wife's scream interrupted the man. Käte seized hold of
+his arm as though she were out of her mind: "No, no, leave him. You are
+not to--no!" She held her hand in front of his mouth. And when he
+pushed her away angrily and seized hold of the boy more firmly, she
+tore him away from him and pressed his head against her dress
+as if to protect him. She held her hand before his ears. Her face was
+deathly white, and, turning her dilated eyes to her husband, she
+implored him full of terror: "Not a word! I beseech you, I beseech
+you!"
+
+The man's anger had not yet cooled. Käte must really have lost her
+senses. Why did she take the boy away from the punishment he so richly
+deserved? He approached the boy once more with a hard: "Well, really,
+Käte I'm not going to condone this."
+
+Then she fled with him to the door and pushed him outside, bolted it
+and then placed herself in front of it, as though to bar her husband's
+egress.
+
+Now Wolfgang had gone. They were both alone now, she and her
+husband, and with a cry full of reproach: "You had almost betrayed it
+to him," she tottered to the sofa. She fell rather than sat down on it,
+and broke out in hopeless weeping.
+
+Paul Schlieben strode up and down the room. He had indeed almost
+allowed himself to be carried away by his indignation. But would it
+have been a misfortune if he had told the boy about it? Let him know
+where he came from, and that he had nothing, really nothing whatever to
+do there. That he received everything as a favour. It was absolutely
+unnecessary--in fact, more prejudicial than desirable--to keep it a
+secret from him. But if she would not allow it on any account!
+
+He interrupted his walk to and fro, remained standing before his
+wife, who was weeping in the corner of the sofa, and looked down at
+her. He felt so extremely sorry for her. That was the reward for all
+her kindness, her unselfishness, for all her devotion! He laid his hand
+softly on her drooping head without saying a word.
+
+Then she started up suddenly and caught hold of his hand: "And don't
+do anything to him, please. Don't hit him. It's my fault--he
+guessed it. I did not like her, I gave her notice, and then I sent her
+away secretly--only because he loved her, only for that reason. I
+feared her. Paul, Paul"--she wrung her hands repentantly--"oh, Paul, I
+stand abashed before the child, I stand abashed before myself."
+
+Wolfgang was sitting huddled up in his room, holding the pictures of
+the saints in his hand. Those were now his most costly, his only
+possessions; a precious memory. Where could she be now? Still in the
+Grunewald? Already in Berlin? Or much further? Oh, how he longed for
+her. He missed the friendly face that was always smiling secretly at
+him, and his longing for her increased until he could not bear it any
+longer. There was no one there who loved him as she did whom he loved
+as he had loved her.
+
+Now that Cilia was gone he forgot that he had often laughed at her
+and played tricks on her, and had also quarrelled with her in a boyish
+manner. His longing for her grew and grew, and her figure grew as well.
+It became so large and so strong, so powerful that it took his eyes
+away from everything else that still surrounded him. He threw himself
+on the carpet and dug his fingers into it; he had to hold himself in
+that manner, otherwise he would have broken everything to bits,
+everything, big and small.
+
+That was his father's step on the stairs. He shook the door-handle.
+Let him shake it. Wolfgang had locked himself in.
+
+"Open at once!"
+
+Ah, now he was to have a whipping. Wolfgang wiped his tears away
+hastily, gnashed his teeth and closed his lips tightly.
+
+"Well, are you soon going to do it?" The handle was shaken louder
+and louder.
+
+Then he went and opened it. His father stepped in. Not with the
+stick the boy expected to see in his hand, but with anger and grief
+written on his brow.
+
+"Come down at once. You have hurt your poor, good--much too
+good--mother very much. Come to her and ask her pardon. Show her that
+you are sorry; do you hear? Come."
+
+The boy did not move. He stared past his father into space with an
+unutterably unhappy, but at the same time obstinate expression on his
+face.
+
+"You are to come--don't you hear? Your mother is waiting."
+
+"I'm not coming," Wolfgang muttered; he hardly opened his lips at
+all.
+
+"What?" The man stared at the boy without speaking, quite dismayed
+at so much audacity.
+
+The boy returned his look, straight and bold. His young face was so
+pale that his dark eyes appeared still darker, a dense black.
+
+"Bad eyes," said the man to himself. And suddenly a suspicion took
+possession of him, a suspicion that was old and long forgotten, but
+still had slumbered in the recesses of his heart in spite of everything
+and had now all at once been roused again, and he seized hold of the
+boy, gripped hold of his chest so tightly that he made no further
+resistance.
+
+"Boy! Rascal! Have you no heart? She who has done so much for you,
+she, she is waiting for you and you, you won't come? On your knees, I
+say. Go on in front--ask her pardon. At once." And he seized the boy,
+who showed no emotion whatever, by the scruff of his neck instead of by
+his chest, and shoved him along in front of him down the stairs and
+into the room where Käte was sitting buried in her grief, her eyes red
+with weeping.
+
+"Here's somebody who wants to beg your pardon," said the man,
+pushing the boy down in front of her.
+
+Wolfgang would have liked to cry out: "No, I won't beg her pardon,
+and especially not now"--and then all at once he felt so sorry for her.
+Oh, she was just as unhappy as he--they did not suit each other, that
+was it. This knowledge came to him all at once, and it deepened his
+glance and sharpened the features of his young face so much that he
+looked old beyond his years.
+
+He jerked out with a sob: "Beg your pardon." He did not hear himself
+how much agony was expressed in his voice, he hardly felt either that
+her arms lifted him up, that he lay on her breast for some moments and
+she stroked his hair away from his burning brow. It was as if he were
+half unconscious; he only felt a great emptiness and a vague
+misery.
+
+As in a dream he heard his father say: "There, that's right. Now go
+and work. And be a better boy." And his mother's soft voice: "Yes, he's
+sure to be that." He went upstairs as though he were walking in his
+sleep. He was to work now--why? What was the object? Everything was so
+immaterial to him. It was immaterial whether these people praised or
+blamed him--what did it matter to him what they did? On the whole he
+did not like being there any longer, he did not want to stay there any
+more--no, no! He shook himself as though with loathing.
+
+Then he stood a long time on one spot, staring into space. And
+gradually a large, an immeasurable expanse appeared before his staring
+eyes--cornfields and heather in bloom, heather in which the sun sets,
+quiet waters near which a lonely bird is calling, and over all the
+solemn, beautiful sound of bells. He must go there. He stretched out
+his arms longingly, the eyes that were swollen with weeping
+flashed.
+
+If they were to keep him with them, keep hold of him! No, they could
+not hold him. He must go there.
+
+He crept nearer to the window as though drawn there. It was high up,
+too high for a jump, but he would get down nevertheless. He could not
+go down the stairs of course, they would hear him--but like this, ah,
+like this.
+
+Kneeling on the window-sill he groped about with his feet to find
+the water-pipe that ran down the whole side of the house close to the
+window. Ah, he felt it. Then he slid down from the sill, only hanging
+on to it by the tips of his fingers, dangled in the air for a few
+moments, then got the water-pipe between his knees, let go of the
+window-sill altogether, grasped hold of the pipe and slid down it
+quickly and noiselessly.
+
+He looked round timidly: nobody had seen him. There was nobody in
+the street, and there were only a few people walking in the distance.
+He bent his head and crept past the windows on the ground-floor--now he
+was in the garden behind the bushes--now over the hedge his trousers
+slit, that did not matter--now he looked back at the house with a
+feeling of wild triumph. He stood in the waste field, in which
+no houses had been built as yet, stood there hidden behind an
+elderberry-bush, of which he had planted the first shoot years before
+as a child. He did not feel the slightest regret. He rushed away into
+the sheltering wood like a wild animal that hears shots.
+
+He ran and ran, ran even when it was not necessary to run any more.
+He did not stop until complete exhaustion forced him to do so. He had
+run straight across the wood without following any path; now he no
+longer knew where he was. But he was far away, so much was certain. He
+had not got so far into the wood on his robber expeditions with his
+play-fellows, and, in his walks, had never gone into the parts
+where there were no paths whatever and where it was quite lonely. He
+could rest a little now in peace.
+
+He threw himself on the ground, where the sand showed nothing but
+fine grass and some bracken in small hollows. Trees in which there was
+not the slightest motion towered above him all around, like slender
+pillars that seemed to support the heavens.
+
+He lay there for some time on his back, and let his blood, which was
+coursing through his veins like mad, cool down. He thought he could
+hear his heart throb quite distinctly, although he could not account
+for it--oh, it was pounding and stabbing so unpleasantly in his breast;
+he had never felt it do like that before. But he had never run like
+that before, at any rate since his illness. He had to fight for air, he
+thought he was going to choke. But at last he was able to breathe again
+more comfortably; now he had not to distend his nostrils and pant for
+breath any more. He could enjoy the feeling of ease and comfort that
+gradually came over him now.
+
+It was not yet dusk when he set out again, but still the light began
+to show that it was October. There was a sweet softness, something
+extremely gentle and glorified about the sunshine that fell through the
+red branches of the pines, which also softened the wild runaway. He
+went in a dream--whither? He did not know, he did not think of it
+either, he only walked on and on, in pursuit of a longing that drew him
+on irresistibly, that fluttered in front of him and cooed and called
+like a dove seeking her nest. And the dove's wings were stronger than
+the wings of an eagle.
+
+There were no people where the longing flew. It was so peaceful and
+quiet there. Not even his foot made any noise as it sank into the moss
+and short grass. The pines stood in the glow of the setting
+sun like slender lighted candles. No autumn leaves lay on the ground in
+which the wind might have rustled; the air swept noiselessly over the
+smooth pine-needles and the colourless cones that had dropped down from
+the tree-tops.
+
+Wolfgang had never known it was so beautiful there. He looked round
+with amazed delight. It had never seemed so beautiful before. But it
+was not like this, of course, where the villas were and the roads. His
+eyes glanced curiously now to the right, now to the left and then in
+front of him into the twilight of the wood. There, where the last gold
+of the setting sun did not cling to the cleft bark like red blood and
+the light did not penetrate, there was a soft mysterious dusk, in which
+the mossy dark-green stems gleamed nevertheless. And there was a
+perfume there, so moist and cool, so pungent and fresh, that the boy
+drew a deep breath as though a weight had been lifted from his chest
+and a new strength ran through his veins.
+
+The memory of all he had gone through during the day came back to
+Wolfgang now in the deep calm. He pressed his hands to his hot
+forehead--ah, now he noticed he had not even a cap on. But what did
+that matter? He was free, free! He hurried on, shouting with glee, and
+then he got terrified at the sound of his own loud voice: hush, be
+quiet! Let him only not be shut up again, let him be free, free!
+
+He did not feel any more longing now. He was filled with a great
+repose, with a boundless happiness. His eyes sparkled--he opened them
+wide--he could not stare enough at the world, it was as though he saw
+it for the first time to-day. He ran up to the trunks that seemed to be
+supporting the heavens, and threw both arms round them; he pressed his
+face against the resinous bark. Was it not soft? Did it not
+cling to his glowing cheek like a caressing hand?
+
+He threw himself down on the moss and stretched his limbs and tossed
+from side to side in high glee, and then jumped up again--he did not
+like being there, after all--he must look about, enjoy his liberty.
+
+A single red stripe over the wood that was turning blue still showed
+where the sun had been, when he became conscious of his actual
+whereabouts for the first time. Here the former high-road from Spandau
+to Potsdam had been; ruddy brown and yellow chestnuts formed an avenue
+through the desolate country. The sand lay a foot deep in the ruts that
+were seldom used now. Ah, from here you came to Potsdam or Spandau,
+according to the road you took--alas, could you not already hear cocks
+crowing and a noise as of wheels turning slowly?
+
+Deciding quickly, the boy turned off from the old high-road to the
+left, crept through a bent barbed wire fence, that was to protect a
+clearing which had lately been replanted, bounded like a stag over the
+small plants that were hardly a hand's-breadth high, and looked out for
+a cover.
+
+He did not require any, nobody came there. He walked more slowly
+between the small trees; he took care not to tread on them, stooped
+down and examined them, measured them out by steps as a farmer does his
+furrows.
+
+And all at once it was evening. A mist had crept over the earth,
+light and hardly visible at first, then it had risen and increased in
+size, had slipped across the piece of clearing on the night wind that
+was coming up, and had hung on to each gnarl like the beckoning veils
+of spectres.
+
+But Wolfgang was not afraid; he did not feel any terror.
+What could happen to him there, where the distant whistle of a train
+was only heard at intervals, and where the wind carried the smoke it
+had torn away from the locomotive like a light cloud that rapidly
+vanishes?
+
+Just as if you were on the prairie, on the steppes, the boy thought
+to himself, where there are no longer any huts and only the camp fires
+send their little bit of smoke up as a token. A certain love of
+adventure was mingled with the bliss of being free. He had always
+wished to camp out. Of course he would not be able to light a fire and
+cook by it; he had nothing to do it with. But he did not feel hungry.
+There was only one thing he needed now, to sleep long and soundly.
+
+He lay down without hesitating. The ground was already cool, but his
+clothes were thick and prevented the cold from penetrating. He made a
+sort of pillow for his head, and lay with his face turned towards the
+evening sky. Pale stars gradually appeared on it, and smiled down at
+him.
+
+He had thought he would fall asleep at once, he felt tired out, but
+he lay a long time with open eyes. An inexplicable sensation kept him
+awake: this was too beautiful, too beautiful, it was like a splendid
+dream. Golden eyes protected him, a velvety mantle enveloped him, a
+mother rocked him gently.
+
+Longing, defiance, pain, fury, everything that hurt had disappeared.
+Only happiness remained in this infinite peace.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+Frida Lãmke had now been confirmed. She wore a dress that almost
+touched the ground, and when she saw Wolfgang Schlieben for the first
+time after a long interval, her greeting was no longer the familiar
+nod of childhood. But she stopped when she came up to her former
+play-fellow.
+
+"Hallo, Wolfgang," she said, laughing, and at the same time a little
+condescendingly--she felt so infinitely superior to him--"well, how are
+you getting along?"
+
+"All right." He put on a bold air which did not exactly suit the
+look in his eyes.
+
+She examined him; what a fine fellow Wolfgang had grown. But he held
+himself so badly, he bent forward so. "Hold yourself up, for goodness'
+sake," she exhorted, and she straightened her own rush-like figure.
+"Why do you make such a round back? And you blink your eyes as if you
+were short-sighted. Hm, you should be with my employer--oh my, she
+would make you sit up." She chuckled to herself, her whole slender
+figure shook with a secret inclination to laugh.
+
+"You're so happy," he said slowly.
+
+"Well, why shouldn't I be? Do you think such an old dragon can spoil
+my good humour? Come, that would be stupid. When she scolds I lower my
+head, I don't say a word, but I laugh to myself. Ha ha!" Her clear
+voice sounded very gay.
+
+How pretty she was. The boy's dark eyes were fixed on Frida Lämke as
+though he had never seen her before. The sun was shining on her fair
+hair, which she no longer wore in a long plait, but in a thick knot at
+the back of her head. Her face was so round, so blooming.
+
+"You never come to see me now," he said.
+
+"How can I?" She shrugged her shoulders and assumed an air of
+importance. "What do you think I have to do? Into town with the car
+before eight in the morning, and then only two hours for my dinner
+always in and out and in the evening I'm hardly ever at home before
+ten, often still later. Then I'm so tired, I sleep as sound as a top.
+But on Sundays mother lets me sleep as long as I like, and in the
+afternoon I go out with Artur and Flebbe. We----"
+
+"Where do you go?" he asked hastily. "I could go with you some
+time."
+
+"Oh, you!" She laughed at him. "You mayn't, you know."
+
+"No." He bowed his head.
+
+"Come, don't look so glum," she said encouragingly, stroking his
+chin with her fore-finger, and disclosing a hole in her shabby kid
+glove. "You go to college, you see. Artur is to be apprenticed too,
+next autumn. Mother thinks to a hairdresser. And Flebbe is already
+learning to be a grocer--his father can afford to do that--who knows?
+perhaps he may have a shop of his own in time."
+
+"Yes," said Wolfgang in a monotonous voice, breaking into her
+chatter. He stood in the street as though lost in thought, his books
+pressed under his arm. Oh, how far, far this girl, all three of them,
+had gone from him all at once. Those three, with whom he had once
+played every day, whose captain he had always been, were already so
+big, and he, he was still a silly school-boy.
+
+"Oh, hang it all!" He hurled his pile of books away from him with a
+violent gesture, so that the strap that held them together came undone.
+All the books and exercise-books flew apart, and lay spread out in the
+dust of the street.
+
+"Oh dear, Wölfchen!" Frida stooped down, quite terrified, and
+gathered them all up.
+
+He did not help her to collect them. He stared in front of him with
+an angry look.
+
+"There--now you've got them again," said the girl, who had grown
+quite red with stooping so busily. She blew off the dust and pressed
+them under his arm again.
+
+"I don't want them." He let them fall again.
+
+"Hm, you're a nice fellow. What can you be thinking of?--those
+expensive books." She felt really quite angry with him. "Don't you know
+that they cost money?"
+
+"Pooh!" He made a gesture as if to say, what did that matter? "Then
+some new ones will be bought."
+
+"Even if your father has sufficient money," she said, firing up,
+"it's still not right of you to treat these good books like that."
+
+He did not say a word to that, but took them up and fastened the
+strap round them again. They stood together, both feeling embarrassed.
+She glanced sideways at him: how he had changed. And he felt vexed that
+he had got into a passion: what would she think of him now?
+
+"I shall have to go now," she said all at once, "or I shan't even
+get my dinner eaten ugh, how hungry I am!" She put her hand on her
+stomach. "How good it'll taste! Mother has potatoes in their jackets
+and herrings to-day."
+
+"I shall go too." Suiting his step to hers he trotted beside her as
+she tripped hastily along.
+
+She got quite red: what would her mother say if she brought
+Wolfgang with her? No, that would really not do, this was just the day
+when their room had not been tidied. And she had told a fib too: there
+were no herrings, only onion sauce with the potatoes in their
+jackets.
+
+She felt ashamed that Wolfgang should find it out.
+
+"No, you go home," she said, intrenching herself behind a pout. "As
+you've not been to see us for so long, you needn't come to-day either.
+I'm angry with you."
+
+"Angry with me--me? What have I done? I wasn't allowed to come to
+you, I mightn't--that's not my fault, surely. Frida!"
+
+She commenced to run, her face quite scarlet; he ran beside her.
+"Frida! Frida, surely you can't be angry with _me_? Oh, Frida, don't be
+angry. Frida, let me go with you. At last I've met you, and then you
+behave like this?"
+
+There was sorrow in his voice. She felt it, but she was angry all
+the same: why should he cling to her like that? Flebbe would not like
+it at all. And so she said in a pert voice: "We don't suit each other
+and never shall. You go with your young ladies. You belong to
+them."
+
+"Say that once more--dare to do it!" He shouted in a rough voice,
+and raised his hand as though he would strike her. "Affected creatures,
+what are they to me?"
+
+He was right--she had to confess it in her heart--he had never taken
+any notice of the young girls who lived in the villas around him. She
+knew very well that he preferred them to them all, and her vanity felt
+flattered; she said soothingly, but at the same time evasively: "No,
+Wölfchen, you can't go with me any more, it's not proper any more." And
+she held out her hand: "Good-bye, Wolfgang."
+
+They were among the bushes in a small public garden in which there
+were benches, the villas lying at a good distance from it,
+quite hidden behind their front gardens. There was nobody in sight in
+the quiet radiance of the noonday sun. But even if somebody had come,
+it would not have made any difference; he seized hold of her with both
+hands in a kind of rage. "I am going with you--I shall not let you
+go."
+
+She resisted forcibly: what was the stupid boy thinking of? "Let me
+go," she said, spitting at him like a little cat, "will you let me go
+at once? You hurt me. Just you wait, I'll tell Flebbe about it, he'll
+be after you. Leave me in peace."
+
+He did not let her go. He held her clasped in his arms without
+saying a word, his books were again lying in the dust.
+
+Did he want to kiss or strike her? She did not know; but she was
+afraid of him and defended herself as best she could. "You runaway!"
+she hissed, "hm, you're a nice one. Runs away from home, hides himself
+in the wood. But they got you all the same--and it served you
+right."
+
+All at once he let her go; she stood in front of him mocking him.
+She could easily have run away now, but she preferred to stand there
+and scold him: "You runaway!"
+
+He got very red and hung his head.
+
+"How could you think of doing such a thing?" she continued with a
+certain cruelty. "So silly. Everybody laughed at you. We positively
+could not believe it at first. Well I never, said I, the boy runs away
+without money, without a cap, without a piece of bread in his pocket.
+You wanted to go to America like that, I suppose, eh?" She eyed him
+from top to toe and then threw her head back and laughed loudly: "To
+think of doing such a thing."
+
+He did not raise his head, only murmured half to himself: "You
+shouldn't laugh at it, no, you shouldn't."
+
+"Come, what next? Cry, perhaps? What does it matter to me? Your
+mother cried enough about it, and your father ran about as if he were
+crazy. All the rangers in the district were on their legs. Tell me,
+didn't you get a good thrashing when they dragged you home by the
+collar?"
+
+"No." He suddenly raised his head and looked straight into the eyes
+that were sparkling a little maliciously.
+
+There was something in his glance--a mute reproach--that compelled
+her to lower her lids.
+
+"They didn't beat me--I wouldn't have stood it either--no, they
+didn't beat me."
+
+"Shut you up?" she asked curiously.
+
+He did not answer; what was he to say? No, they had not shut him up,
+he might go about as he liked in the house and garden, in the street,
+to school--and still, still he was not free.
+
+Tears suddenly started to his eyes. "You--you shouldn't--shouldn't
+taunt me--Frida," he cried, stammering and faltering. "I'm so--so----"
+
+He wanted to say "unhappy"; but the word seemed to mean too little
+and in another way too much. And he felt ashamed of saying it aloud. So
+he stood silent, colouring up to the eyes. And only his tears, which he
+could not restrain any longer, rolled down his cheeks and fell into the
+dust of the street.
+
+They were tears of sorrow and of rage. It was already more than six
+months ago--oh, even longer--but it still enraged him as though it had
+happened the day before. He had never forgotten for a moment that they
+had caught him so easily. They had found him so soon, at daybreak, ere
+the sun had risen on a new day. And they had carried him home in
+triumph. What he had looked upon as a great deed, an heroic
+deed, was a stupid boy's trick to them. His mother had certainly cried
+a good deal, but his father had only pulled his ear: "Once, but not
+more, my son. Remember that."
+
+Wolfgang was crying quietly but bitterly. Frida stood in front of
+him, watching him cry, and suddenly her eyes filled with tears as
+well--she had always been his good friend. Now she cried with him.
+
+"Don't cry, Wölfchen," she sobbed. "It isn't so bad. People don't
+remember anything more about it--such things are forgotten. You
+certainly need not feel ashamed of it--why should you? There's no harm
+in your having frightened your people a little for once in a way.
+Simply say to them: 'Then I'll run away again,' if they won't let you
+come to us. Come next Sunday afternoon. Then I won't go with Artur and
+Flebbe--no, I'll wait for you."
+
+She wiped her own tears away with the one hand and his with the
+other.
+
+They stood thus in the bright sunshine amidst the flowering bushes.
+The lilac spread its fragrance around; a red may and a laburnum strewed
+their beautifully coloured petals over them, shaken by the soft wind of
+May. The dark and the light head were close to each other.
+
+"Frida," he said, seizing hold of her hand firmly, as though
+clinging to it, "Frida, are _you_ still fond of me, at any rate?"
+
+"Of course." She nodded, and her clear merry laugh was heard once
+more, although there were still traces of tears on her face. "That
+would be a nice sort of friendship, if it disappeared so quickly.
+There!" She pursed up her mouth and gave him a kiss.
+
+He looked very embarrassed; she had never given him a kiss
+before.
+
+"There!" She gave him another one. "And now be happy again, my boy.
+It's such beautiful weather."
+
+           *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
+
+"You're late to-day," said his mother, when Wolfgang came home from
+school at two instead of at one o'clock. "You've not been kept, I
+hope?"
+
+A feeling of indignation rose in him: how she supervised him. The
+good temper in which his friend Frida had put him had disappeared; the
+chains galled him again. But he still thought a good deal of Frida.
+When he was doing his lessons in the afternoon, her head with its thick
+knot of hair would constantly appear behind his desk, and bend over his
+book and interrupt him; but it was a pleasant interruption. What a pity
+that Frida had so little time now. How nice it had been when they were
+children. He had always been most fond of her; he had been able to play
+better with her than with the two boys, she had always understood him
+and stuck to him--alas!
+
+He felt as though he must envy, from the bottom of his heart, the
+boy who had been the captain when they played at robbers in those days
+and roasted potatoes in the ashes, nay, even the boy who had once been
+so ill that they had to wheel him in a bath-chair the first time he
+went out into the open air. The boy who sat at the desk now, staring
+absently into space over the top of his exercise-book, was no longer
+the same. He was no longer a child. All at once it seemed to Wolfgang
+as though a golden time had gone for ever and lay far behind him, as
+though there were no pleasures in store for him. Had not the clergyman
+who was preparing him for confirmation also said: "You are no longer
+children"? And had he not gone on to say: "You will soon have your
+share of life's gravity"? Alas, he already had it.
+
+Wolfgang sat with knit brows, the chewed end of his penholder
+between his teeth, disinclined to work. He was brooding. All manner of
+thoughts occurred to him that he had never had before; all at
+once words came into his mind that he had never thought of seriously
+before. Why did the boys in his form constantly ask him such strange
+questions? They asked about his parents--well, was there anything
+peculiar about them?--and then they exchanged glances among themselves
+and looked at him so curiously. What was so funny about him? Lehmann
+was the most curious--and so cheeky. Quite lately he had blinked at him
+sideways so slyly, and puffed up his cheeks as though they must burst
+with laughter when he made the specially witty remark: "I'll be hanged
+if I can see any likeness between you and your governor!" Was he really
+not like his father or his mother? Not like either of them?
+
+When Wolfgang undressed that evening, he stood a long time in front
+of the looking-glass that hung over his washstand, with a light in his
+hand, holding it first to the right, then to the left, then higher,
+then lower. A bright light fell on his face. The glass was good, and
+reflected every feature faithfully on its clear surface--but there was
+no resemblance whatever between his big nose and his mother's fine one.
+His father's nose was also quite different. And neither of his parents
+had such a broad forehead with hair growing far down on it, and such
+brows that almost met. His father had certainly dark eyes, but they did
+not resemble those he saw in the glass, that were so black that even
+the light from the candle, which he held quite close, could not make
+them any lighter.
+
+At last the boy turned away with a look full of doubt. And still
+there was something that resembled a slight feeling of relief in the
+sigh he now uttered. If he were so little like them externally, need he
+wonder then that his thoughts and feelings were often so quite, quite
+different from theirs?
+
+It was strange how the boys at school were an exact copy of their
+parents; and how the big boys were still tied to their mothers'
+apron-strings. There was Kullrich, for example; he had been away for a
+fortnight because his mother had died, and when he came to school again
+for the first time--with a black band round his coat-sleeve--the whole
+form went almost crazy. They treated him as though he were a raw egg,
+and spoke quite low, and nobody made a joke. And when the passage,
+_When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me
+up_, happened to occur in the Bible-lessons, in which Kullrich also
+took part, they all looked at him as though at the word of command, and
+Kullrich laid his head down on his Bible, and did not raise it again
+during the whole lesson. Afterwards the master went up to him and spoke
+a long time to him, and laid his hand on his head.
+
+That was already a long time ago, but Kullrich was still not happy.
+When they all walked in the playground during the interval, eating
+their bread and butter, he stood at some distance and did not eat. Was
+it really so hard to lose one's mother?
+
+There was a wonderful moon shining over the silent pines that night;
+the boy lay half out of the window for a long, long time. His eyes were
+burning: his thoughts buzzed in his head like a swarm of gnats that
+whirl round and round and up and down in the air like a cloud. Where
+did they come from all at once?
+
+He exposed his hot forehead, his chest, from which his nightshirt
+had slipped, to the cool night air in May--ah, that did him good. That
+was the best, the only thing that soothed, that gave peace. Oh, how
+delightful the air was, so pure, so fresh.
+
+Where could Cilia be now? he wondered. He had never heard anything
+more about her, She was where he would like to have been--oh,
+how he would have liked it. Something that resembled the sound of bells
+came floating along, and he stretched out his arms and bent further and
+further out of the window.
+
+Wolfgang had such a vivid dream about Cilia that night that when he
+awoke he thought she was standing at his bedside, that she had not left
+him yet. But after he had rubbed his eyes, he saw that the spot on
+which she had just been standing smiling so pleasantly was empty.
+
+After school was over he had to go to the Bible-lesson; he was to be
+confirmed the following Easter. True, he was still young, but Paul
+Schlieben had said to his wife: "He is so developed physically. We
+can't have him confirmed when he is outwardly, at any rate, a grown-up
+man. Besides, his age is just right. It is much better for him if he
+does not begin to reflect first."
+
+Did he not reflect already? It often seemed to Käte as if the boy
+evaded her questions, when she asked him about the Bible-lesson. Did
+his teacher not understand how to make an impression on him? Dr.
+Baumann was looked upon as an excellent theologian, everybody rushed to
+hear his sermons; to be allowed to join his confirmation classes, that
+were always so crowded, was a special favour; all his pupils raved
+about him, people who had been confirmed by him ten, fifteen years
+before, still spoke of it as an event in their lives.
+
+Käte made a point of going to hear this popular clergyman's sermons
+very often. Formerly she had only gone to church at Christmas and on
+Good Friday, now she went almost every Sunday to please her boy, for he
+had to go now. They left the house together every Sunday, drove to
+church together, sat next to each other; but whilst she thought: "How
+clever, how thought-out, what fervour, surely he must carry a youthful
+mind away with him"? Wolfgang thought: "If only it were over!"
+He felt bored. And his soul had never soared there as when the little
+bell rang when the monstrance had been raised, when he had smelt the
+odour of incense before dim altars.
+
+There was something in him that drove him to the church he had once
+visited with Cilia. When he went to the Bible-class he had to pass
+close by it; but even if the road had been longer, he would still have
+made it possible to go there. Only to stand a few minutes, a few
+seconds in a corner, only to draw his breath once or twice in that
+sweet, mysterious, soothing air laden with incense. He always found the
+church door open; and then when he stepped out again into the noise of
+Berlin, he went through the streets with their hurry and their rush
+like one come from another world. After that he did not take any
+notice of what he was told about the doctrines and the history of the
+Church--what were Martin Luther, Calvin and other reformers to him? His
+soul had been caught, his thoughts submerged in a feeling of gloomy
+faith.
+
+Thus the summer and winter passed. When the days grew longer, and
+the mild warmth of the sun promised to dry up all the moisture winter
+had left behind ere long, Paul Schlieben had his villa cleaned and
+painted. It was to put on a festive garment for their son's great day,
+too.
+
+The white house looked extremely pretty with its red roofs and green
+shutters, as it peeped out from behind the pines; there would almost
+have been something rustic about it, had it not been for the large
+plate-glass windows and the conservatory, with its palms and flowering
+azaleas, that had lately been built on. Friedrich was sowing fresh
+grass in the garden, and an assistant was tidying up the flower-beds;
+they were digging and hoeing everywhere. The sparrows were
+chirping noisily, bold and happy; but strips of paper tied to long
+pieces of string and stretched across the lawns that had just been sown
+fluttered in the purifying wind and frightened the impudent birds away
+from the welcome food. All the gardens were waking up. The stems of the
+roses had not yet been released from their coverings, in which they
+looked like a chrysalis made of straw, but the young shoots had
+appeared on the fruit-trees, and the spurge-laurel made a fine show
+with its peach-coloured blossoms. Perambulators painted white and
+sky-blue were being driven up and down the street, the baby inside was
+already peeping out from behind the curtains, and little feet tripped
+along by the side. Nurses and children came out of all the doors, the
+boys with hoops, the girls with their balls in a knitted net. Giggling
+young girls went off to tennis, and big boys from the third form made
+love to them.
+
+Brightness and gaiety everywhere. There was a glad excited rustling
+in the tops of the pines, and the sap rose and fell in the willows
+along the shores of the lake. A flight of starlings passed over the
+Grunewald colony, and each bird looked down and chose in which box on
+the tall pine stems it would prefer to nest.
+
+The new suit of clothes--black trousers and coat--Wolfgang was to
+wear at his confirmation lay spread out on his bed upstairs. Now he was
+to try it on.
+
+Käte was filled with a strange emotion, and her pulse quickened as
+she helped him to put on his new suit. So far he had always been
+dressed like a boy, in knickers and a sailor blouse, now he was to be
+dressed like a man all at once. The festive black suit of fine cloth
+did not suit him; for the first time one noticed that he was thick-set.
+He stood there stiffly, he felt cramped in the trousers, the coat was
+uncomfortable, too: he looked miserable.
+
+"Look at yourself, just look at yourself," said Käte, pushing him in
+front of the glass.
+
+He looked into it. But he did not see the clothes, he only saw his
+mother's face as she looked into the glass at the same time as he, and
+he saw they had not a single feature in common.
+
+"We're not a bit alike," he murmured.
+
+"Hm? What did you say?" She had not understood him.
+
+He did not answer.
+
+"Don't you like the suit?"
+
+"It's awful!" And then he stared at himself absently. What had they
+been saying again that morning? They had been jeering at him, Lehmann
+and von Kesselborn, who were to be confirmed with him. Was it because
+their fathers were not so rich as his? Kesselborn's father was a
+retired officer, who now filled the post of registrar, but Kesselborn
+was terribly proud of his "von"; and Lehmann was his bosom friend.
+However, he had told them that he had already had a silver watch since
+he was eight years old, and that he was to have a real gold one for his
+confirmation, which he would then wear every day--that had vexed them
+awfully.
+
+It was before the lesson had commenced--they were all three
+waiting--and Kesselborn had suddenly said: "Schlieben gives himself
+airs," and had then turned to him and said: "You needn't be so
+stuck-up." And then Lehmann had added, also quite loudly so that
+everybody must have heard it: "Don't put on so much side, we know all
+ about it."
+
+"What do you know?" He had wanted to jump on Lehmann like a tiger,
+but the clergyman had just then come in and they began prayers. And
+when the lesson, of which he had hardly heard anything--he heard the
+other words all the time--was over, he had wanted to tackle
+Kesselborn and Lehmann, but they had been sitting near the door, and
+had already gone before he could get out of his bench. He did not see
+them again. But he noticed glances in which there was a certain
+curiosity and spitefulness--or did he only imagine it? He was not quite
+sure about it, and he had not thought any more about it either. But now
+when he saw his mother's face so close to his in the glass, he suddenly
+remembered it all again. And it all came back to him, plumped like a
+stone into his thoughts.
+
+"I'm not at all like you," he said once more. And then he watched
+her face: "Not like father either."
+
+"Oh yes," she said hastily, "you are very much like your
+father."
+
+"Not the slightest bit."
+
+Her face had flamed, and then he noticed that she suddenly turned
+pale. Then she laughed, but there was something forced in her laugh.
+"There are many children who hardly resemble their parents at all--that
+has nothing to do with the matter."
+
+"No, but----" All at once he stopped and frowned, as he always did
+when he exerted himself to think. And he shot such sharp, such
+suspicious, such scrutinising glances at the glass under his knit brows
+that Käte involuntarily moved aside, so that her head could not be seen
+near his in the glass any more.
+
+She was seized with a sudden fear: what did he mean? Had he spoken
+like that intentionally, or had he said it quite unconsciously? What
+had they said to him? What did he know?
+
+Her hands that had found something to do to his clothes--she was on
+her knees pulling down his trousers--were full of nervous haste, and
+were pulling here, pulling there, and trembling.
+
+He was not looking into the glass now, he was gazing at the kneeling
+woman with an indefinable look. As a rule, his face had not much
+expression and was neither handsome nor ugly, neither fine nor
+insignificant--it was still a smooth, immature boy's face without a
+line on it--but now there was something in it, something doubting,
+restless, which made it appear older, which drew furrows on his
+forehead and lines round his mouth. Thoughts seemed to be whirling
+round behind that lowered brow; the broad nostrils quivered slightly,
+the trembling lips were pressed tightly together.
+
+A deep silence reigned in the room. The mother did not utter a word,
+nor did the son. The birds were twittering outside, even the faintest
+chirp could be heard as well as the soft rustling of the spring wind in
+the tops of the pines.
+
+Käte rose slowly from her knees. She found difficulty in getting up,
+all her limbs felt as if they were paralysed. She stretched out her
+hand gropingly, caught hold of the nearest piece of furniture and
+helped herself up.
+
+"You can take it off again now," she said in a low voice.
+
+He was already doing so, visibly glad at being able to throw off the
+clothes he was so unused to.
+
+She would have liked so much to say something to him, something
+quite unimportant--only to speak, speak--but she felt so strangely
+timid. It was as though he might say to her: "What have I to do with
+you, woman?" And her fear kept her silent.
+
+He had taken off his new suit now, and was standing before her
+showing his broad chest, which the unbuttoned shirt had left exposed,
+his strong legs, from which the stockings had slipped down, and all his
+big-boned, only half-clothed robustness. She averted her glance--what a
+big fellow he was already!--but then she looked at him again
+almost immediately: why should a mother feel shy at looking at her
+child? A mother?
+
+Her eyes flickered. As she walked to the door she said, without
+turning her head to him again: "I'm going down now. You'll be able to
+finish without me, no doubt."
+
+He mumbled something she could not understand. And then he stood a
+long time, half dressed as he was, and stared into the glass, as though
+the pupils of his eyes could not move.
+
+The day of his confirmation drew near; it was to take place on Palm
+Sunday. Dr. Baumann had laid the importance of the step they were about
+to take very clearly before the boys' eyes. Now a certain feeling of
+solemnity took the place of Wolfgang's former indifference. He was more
+attentive during the last lessons; the empty bare room with the few
+pictures on the plain walls did not seem so bare to him any longer. Was
+it only because he had grown accustomed to it? A softer light fell
+through the dreary windows and glided over the monotonous rows of
+benches, beautifying them.
+
+Even Lehmann and Kesselborn were not quite so unsympathetic lately.
+All his thoughts grew gentler, more forgiving. The boy's hard heart
+became soft. When the clergyman spoke of the Commandments and specially
+emphasised the one, "Honour thy father and thy mother," it seemed to
+Wolfgang there was much for which he must ask forgiveness; especially
+his mother's forgiveness.
+
+But then when he came home and wanted to say something loving to
+her--something quite unprepared, quite spontaneous--he could not do it,
+for she had not perceived his intention.
+
+Käte often went to the station to meet him--oh, how tired the poor
+boy must be when he came home. It was really too great a rush for him
+to have to go to town for his Bible-lessons so often, and
+there was always twice as much work at school before the end of the
+term. She would have liked to have caressed him, to have fondled him as
+she formerly did little Wölfchen. But when she saw him come sauntering
+along, never looking out for her, never imagining that she was there
+waiting for him, she would turn quickly down the first street or remain
+standing quietly behind a tree and let him pass by. He did not notice
+her at all.
+
+The popular clergyman had to prepare a great many boys for
+confirmation, too many; he could not interest himself in each
+individual one of them; nevertheless he thought he could assure
+Wolfgang's mother, who came to see him full of a certain anxiety in
+order to ask him how her son was getting on, that he was satisfied with
+him.
+
+"I know, I know, Frau Schlieben. Your husband considered it his duty
+to explain it to me--I have also seen the boy's Catholic certificate of
+baptism. But I think I can assure you with a clear conscience that the
+lad is a sincere, evangelical Christian. What, you still have some
+doubts about it?" Her doubtful mien, the questioning anxiety in her
+eyes astonished him.
+
+She nodded: yes, she had a doubt. Odd that she should have got it
+quite lately. But a stranger, anybody else would not understand it, not
+even this man with the clever eyes and the gentle smile. And she could
+hardly have expressed her doubt in words. And she would have had to
+tell her tale quite from the beginning, from the time when she took the
+child away from its mother, took it into her own hands, the whole
+child, body and soul.
+
+So she only said: "So you believe--you really believe--oh, how happy
+I am, Dr. Baumann, that you believe we have done right." She looked at
+him expectantly--oh, how she yearned for him to confirm it and he bowed
+his head:
+
+"So far as our knowledge and understanding go--yes."
+
+Wolfgang did not sleep the night before Palm Sunday. He had been
+told at the last lesson that day that he was to prepare his thoughts.
+And he felt, too, that the next day was an important day, a fresh
+chapter in his life. He did his best to think of everything a boy
+preparing for his confirmation ought to think of. He was very tired and
+could not help yawning, but he forced his eyes open every time.
+However, he could not help his thoughts wandering again and again; his
+head was no longer clear.
+
+What text would he get next day in remembrance of his confirmation?
+he wondered. They had often talked about it at school, each one had his
+favourite text which he hoped to get. And would he get the gold watch
+early in the morning before going to church? Of course. Oh, how angry
+Kesselborn and Lehmann would be then--those wretches! He would hold it
+up before their eyes: there, look! They should be green with envy--why
+should they always be whispering about him, meddling with things that
+did not concern them at all? Pooh, they could not make him trouble
+about it all the same, not even make him angry.
+
+And still all at once he saw his own face so plainly before his
+mind's eye and his mother's near it, as he had seen them in the glass.
+There was not a single feature alike--no, not one.
+
+It was really odd that mother and son resembled each other so
+little. Now he was wide awake, and commenced to ponder, his brows knit,
+his hands clenched. What did they really mean by their offensive
+remarks? If only he knew it. He would be quite satisfied then, quite
+easy. But he could not think of anything else as things were now, with
+everything so obscure. All his thoughts turned round and round the same
+point. It was a horrible feeling that tormented him now, a
+great uncertainty in which he groped about in the dark. Light, light,
+he must have light. Ah, he would see that he got some.
+
+He tossed about restlessly, quite tortured by his thoughts, and
+considered and pondered how he was to find it out, where he was to find
+it out. Who would tell him for certain whether he was his parents'
+child or not? Why should he not be their child? Yes, he was their
+child--no, he was not. But why not? If he was not their real child,
+would he be very sorry? No, no!--but still, it terrified him.
+
+The perspiration stood out on the excited boy's body, and still he
+felt icy-cold. He drew the cover up and shook as though with fever. His
+heart behaved strangely too, it fluttered in his breast as though with
+restless wings. Oh, if only he could sleep and forget everything. Then
+there would be no thought of it next day, and everything would be as it
+had always been.
+
+He pressed his eyes together tightly, but the sleep he had driven
+away did not come again. He heard the clocks strike, the old clock
+resounded hi the dining-room downstairs, and the bronze one called from
+his mother's room with its silvery voice. The silence of the night
+exaggerated every sound; he had never heard the clocks strike so loudly
+before.
+
+Was the morning never coming? Was it not light yet? He longed for
+the day to come, and still he dreaded it. All at once he was seized
+with an inexplicable terror--why, what was it he feared so much?
+
+If only he were already at church--no, if only it were all over. He
+was filled with reluctance, a sudden disinclination. The same thought
+continued to rush madly through his brain, and his heart rushed with
+it; it was impossible to collect his thoughts. He sighed as he
+tossed and turned on his bed; he felt so extremely lonely, terrified,
+nay, persecuted.
+
+_If I ascend up into heaven, Thou art there: if I make my bed in
+hell, behold, Thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and
+dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea_--alas, he could not escape
+from that thought, it was everywhere and always, always there.
+
+As the morning sun stole through the shutters that were still closed
+on Palm Sunday, forcing its way into the room in delicate, golden rays,
+Käte came into her son's room. She was pale, for she had been
+struggling with herself the whole night: should she tell him something,
+now that he was to enter upon this new chapter of his life or should
+she tell him nothing? Something within her whispered: "The day has
+come, tell him it, you owe it to him"--but when the morning sun
+appeared she bade the voice of the night be silent. Why tell him it?
+What did it matter to him? What he did not know could not grieve him;
+but if he knew it, then--perhaps he would then--oh, God, she must keep
+silent, she could not lose him!
+
+But she longed to let him feel her love. When she came in with soft
+steps she was amazed, for he was standing already quite dressed in the
+new black coat and trousers at the window, gazing fixedly at the field
+in which they were beginning to build a villa now. The ground floor was
+already finished, there was a high scaffolding round it; it was going
+to be an enormous building.
+
+"Good morning, my dear son," she said.
+
+He did not hear her.
+
+"Wolfgang!"
+
+Then he turned round quickly and looked at her, terrified and as
+though he did not know her.
+
+"Oh, you're already dressed." Her voice seemed to express
+disappointment; she would have been so pleased to have helped
+him just on that day. There was a strange feeling in her heart; she had
+never thought the day would have affected her so. Was it not a day like
+other days, a festival, of course, but one of many? And now it seemed
+as though the day were unique, and as though there would never be
+another like it again.
+
+She went up to Wolfgang, laid her arms round his neck and looked
+deep into his eyes: "My child!" And then she smiled at him. "I wish you
+joy."
+
+"Why?" He looked past her with such a strange expression that all
+the heartfelt things she had wanted to say to him remained unsaid. He
+was still quite a child although he was almost taller than she, much
+too much of a child, he did not understand the importance of the day as
+yet. So all she did was to improve on his appearance a little, to take
+away a thread from his clothes here, to blow away some dust there and
+pull his tie straight. And then he had to bend his head; she made a
+parting again in his stiff obstinate hair, that never would remain
+straight. And then she could not restrain herself, but took his round
+face between both her hands and pressed a quick kiss on his
+forehead.
+
+"Why not on my mouth?" he thought to himself. "A mother would have
+kissed her child on his mouth."
+
+They went down to breakfast. There were flowers on the table; his
+father, who was wearing a frock coat, was already seated, and the gold
+watch lay on Wolfgang's plate. A splendid watch. He examined it
+critically; yes, he liked it. "In remembrance of April 1, 1901," was
+engraved inside the gold case. Neither Kesselborn nor Lehmann would get
+such a watch, none of the boys who were to be confirmed would get
+anything like such a beauty. It was awfully heavy--he really ought to
+have a gold chain now.
+
+Wolfgang's parents watched him as he stood there with the
+watch in his hand, looking at it yes, he was pleased. And that pleased
+them, especially Käte. She had wanted to have a text engraved inside it
+as well, but Paul did not wish it: don't let them get sentimental about
+it. But it was all right as it was, the boy was pleased with the gift,
+and so they had gained their object.
+
+"It strikes as well," she said to him eagerly. "You can know what
+time it is in the dark. Look. If you press here--do you see?"
+
+"Yes. Give it to me--you've to press here." He knew all about
+it.
+
+They had lost count of the time; they had to be going. Wolfgang
+walked to the station between his parents. When they passed the house
+where Lämke was hall-porter, Frida was standing at the door. She must
+have got up earlier than usual this Sunday; she was already in her
+finery, looked very nice and smiled and nodded. Then Frau Lämke stuck
+her head out of the low cellar-window, and followed the boy with her
+eyes.
+
+"There he goes," she philosophised. "Who knows what life has in
+store for him?" She felt quite moved.
+
+It was splendid weather, a real spring day. The tasteful villas
+looked so festive and bright; all the bushes were shooting, and the
+crocuses, tulips and primroses were in bloom. Even Berlin with its
+large grey houses and its noise and traffic showed a Sunday face. It
+was so much quieter in the streets; true, the electric cars were
+rushing along and there were cabs and carriages, but there were no
+waggons about, no brewers' and butchers' carts. Everything was so much
+quieter, as though subdued, softened. The streets seemed broader than
+usual because they were emptier, and the faces of the people who walked
+there looked different from what they generally did.
+
+The candidates for confirmation were streaming to the
+church; there was a large number of boys and girls. Most of the girls
+drove, for they all belonged to good families.
+
+Ah, all those boys and girls. Käte could hardly suppress a slight
+feeling of longing, almost of envy: oh, to be as young as they were.
+But then every selfish thought was swallowed up in the one feeling: the
+boy, the boy was stepping out of childhood's land now. God be with
+him!
+
+Feelings she had not known for a long time, childlike, devout, quite
+artless feelings crowded in upon her; everything the years and her
+worldly life had brought with them fell from her. To-day she was young
+again, as young as those kneeling at the altar, full of confidence,
+full of hope.
+
+Dr. Baumann spoke grave words full of advice to the boys and girls;
+many of the young children sobbed, and their mothers, too. A shudder
+passed through the crowded church, the young dark and fair heads bent
+low. Käte's eyes sought Wolfgang; his head was the darkest of all. But
+he did not keep it bent, his eyes wandered restlessly all over the
+church until they came to a certain window; there they remained fixed.
+What was he looking for there? Of what was he thinking? She imagined
+she could see that his thoughts were far away, and that made her
+uneasy. Moving nearer to her husband she whispered: "Do you see
+him?"
+
+He nodded and whispered: "Certainly. He's bigger than all the
+others." There was something of a father's pride in the man's whisper.
+Yes, to-day it came home to him: even if they had had many a sorrow
+they would not have had under other circumstances, many a discomfort
+and unpleasantness, still they had had many a joy they would otherwise
+have missed. In spite of everything the boy might in time be all right.
+How he was growing. There was an expression about his mouth
+that was almost manly. It had never struck his father before--was it
+the black clothes that made the boy look so grave?
+
+Wolfgang's thoughts went along paths of their own; not along those
+prescribed there. He had many sensations, but he could not keep hold of
+any; he was lost in thought. He saw a bit of the sky through a square
+in the window-pane, and the flitting figures of his father, mother,
+Frida, his masters and school-fellows appeared to him in it. But they
+all glided past, no vision remained. All at once he felt quite alone
+among all that crowd of people.
+
+When his turn came he stepped mechanically up to the altar with
+Kullrich beside him; Lehmann and Kesselborn were in front of him. How
+he hated those two again all at once. He would have liked to throw his
+watch, his gold watch at their feet: there, take it! But take back
+what you've said, take it back! Ugh, what a terrible night that had
+been--horrible. He felt it still in all his limbs; his feet were heavy,
+and as he knelt down on the cushion on the step leading up to the altar
+his knees were stiff. Kullrich was crying the whole time. Ah, he was no
+doubt thinking of his mother, who was not with him any longer. Poor
+fellow! And Wolfgang felt suddenly that something moist and hot forced
+its way into his eyes.
+
+The organ above them was being played very softly, and the clergyman
+repeated the texts he had chosen for the candidates in a low voice to
+the accompaniment of its gentle tones:
+
+"Revelation, 21st chapter, 4th verse. _And God shall wipe away all
+tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither
+sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the
+former things are passed away._"
+
+Ah, that was for Kullrich. He raised his face, that was wet
+with tears and so red and hot, to receive the comforting words. But
+now, now--Wolfgang stopped breathing--now _his_ text was coming. What
+kind of a text would he get, what would he say to _him_?
+
+"Hebrews, 13th chapter, 14th verse. _For here have we no continuing
+city, but we seek one to come._"
+
+That was to be for him--that? What was the meaning of it? A terrible
+disappointment came over Wolfgang, for--had he not waited for the text
+as for a revelation? The text was to be a judgment of God. It was to
+tell him what was true--or what was not true. And now?
+
+_Here have we no continuing city, we seek one to come._ That did not
+tell him anything.
+
+He got up from the steps mechanically, deceived in all his hopes. He
+did not see that his mother's eyes sent him a covert greeting, that his
+father was surreptitiously nodding to him with a friendly expression on
+his face; he felt quite disillusioned, quite bewildered by this
+disappointment.
+
+If only it had been over now. How tiring it was to sit quiet for so
+long. Wolfgang was pale and yawned covertly; the long night during
+which he had not slept made itself felt, he could hardly keep himself
+from falling asleep. At last, at last the "Amen" was said, at last, at
+last the final hymn pealed from the organ.
+
+The enormous crowd poured out of the church like a never-ending
+flood. Each child joined its parents and passed through the church
+porch between its father and mother.
+
+Wolfgang walked like that, too, as he had done before. He saw
+Kullrich in front of him--with his father only; both of them still wore
+the broad mourning-band. Then he left his father and mother and hurried
+after Kullrich. He had never been on specially friendly terms with him,
+but he took hold of his hand now and pressed and shook it in
+silence, without a word, and then went back again quickly.
+
+Her boy's impulsive sympathy touched Käte greatly; altogether she
+was very much moved that day. When Wolfgang walked beside her again,
+she looked at him sideways the whole time with deep emotion: oh, he was
+so good, so good. And her heart sent up burning hopes and desires to
+heaven.
+
+The sky was bright, so blue, there was not a cloud on it.
+
+They took a carriage so as to drive home, as both parents felt they
+could not be crowded together in the train with so many indifferent,
+chattering people; they wanted to be alone with their son. Wolfgang was
+silent. He sat opposite his mother and allowed his hand to remain in
+hers, which she kept on her lap, but his fingers did not return her
+tender, warm pressure. He sat as quiet as though his thoughts were not
+there at all.
+
+They drove past the house again in which Lämke was porter; Frida
+sprang to the window on hearing the noise the carriage made on the
+hard, sun-baked road, and smiled and nodded once more. But there was
+nothing to be seen of Frau Lämke now, and Wolfgang missed her. Well,
+that afternoon as soon as he could get free he would go to the
+Lämkes.
+
+Some guests were already waiting for them at the villa. They did not
+wish to invite a lot of outsiders in honour of the confirmation, but
+still the good old doctor, his wife, and the two partners had to be
+asked--all elderly people. Wolfgang sat between them without saying
+much more than "yes" and "no," when questions were put to him. But he
+ate and drank a good deal; the food was always good, but still you did
+not get caviar and plovers' eggs every day. His face grew redder and
+redder, and then his head began to swim. At last his health was drunk
+in champagne, and Braumüller, the oldest partner, a very
+jovial man, had amused himself by filling the boy's glass again and
+again.
+
+"Well, Wolfgang, that will be grand when you come to the office.
+Your health, my boy."
+
+It was almost five o'clock when they got up from table. The ladies
+sat down in the drawing-room to have a cup of coffee, the gentlemen
+went to the smoking-room. Wolfgang stole away, he felt such a longing
+for the Lämkes. First of all he wanted to show them the gold watch, and
+then he wanted to ask what text Frida had got at her confirmation, and
+then, then--what would Frau Lämke say to him?
+
+_Here have we no continuing city, we seek one to come_; that was
+really a stupid text. And still he could not get it out of his head. He
+thought of it the whole time whilst sauntering slowly along through the
+soft silvery air of spring, that is so full of presages. No, the text
+was not so stupid, after all. He knit his brows thoughtfully, looked up
+at the motionless tops of the pines and then around him--"Here have we
+no continuing city"--could not that also mean, here is not your home?
+But where then--where?
+
+A strange gleam came into his dark eyes, a look as if seeking for
+something. And then his face, which the wine had flushed, grew pale. If
+it were true what the two had said? Oh, and so many other things
+occurred to him all at once: there had been that Lisbeth, that horrid
+woman who had been with them before Cilia came--what was all that
+Lisbeth had always been babbling about when she was in a bad humour?
+"You've no right here"--"you're here on sufferance"--and so on, only he
+could not remember it all now. What a pity! At that time he had been
+too young and too innocent, but now--now?
+
+"Hang that woman!" He clenched his hand. But oh, if he only
+had her there now. He would not call her names, oh no, he would get it
+out of her quite gently and coaxingly, for he must, he must know it
+now.
+
+A violent longing, a burning curiosity had suddenly been roused in
+him, and would not be repressed any longer. There must be some truth in
+it, or how could they have taunted him like that? And he must know the
+truth; he had a right to know it now. His figure grew taller. Self-will
+and defiance engraved deep, firm lines round his mouth. And even if it
+were ever so terrible, he must know it. But was it terrible? The lines
+round his lips became softer. "Here have we no continuing city, but we
+seek one to come"--very well then, he would seek it.
+
+He gave up sauntering and began to stride along more quickly. What
+would Frau Lämke say? And if he should ask her now--she meant so well
+by him--if he should ask her in the way a man is asked when he has to
+swear to anything, if he asked her whether--yes, but what was it he
+really wanted to ask her?
+
+His heart throbbed. Oh, that stupid heart. It often behaved as if it
+were a wild bird that has been shut up in a small cage.
+
+He had commenced to run again; now he had to slacken his pace. And
+still he was quite breathless when he came to the Lämkes. The father
+and son had gone out, but the mother and daughter were sitting there as
+though waiting for him.
+
+Frida jumped up, so that the edging she had been crocheting for the
+kitchen fell to the ground, seized hold of both his hands, and her blue
+eyes sparkled with admiration. "Oh, how fine you are, Wolfgang! Like a
+gentleman--awfully grand."
+
+He smiled: that was nice of her to say it.
+
+But when Frau Lämke said in a voice full of feeling: "Now I
+shall have to treat you as a grown-up, Wolfgang--you're getting too big
+now--but I like you none the less for that, you may be sure, I could
+hardly be fonder of my own children"--he felt happier than he had done
+the whole day. His face grew tender and full of emotion, and he pressed
+the gnarled hand that gave his such a hearty shake firmly.
+
+Then he sat down near them; they wanted to hear about
+everything.
+
+He showed them his gold watch and let it strike the hour; but he did
+not talk much, the atmosphere of the room filled him with a vague
+feeling of delight, and he sat quite still. There was the same smell of
+freshly-made coffee as once before, and the myrtle in the window and
+the pale monthly rose mingled their fainter perfume with it. He had
+quite forgotten that he had already been there some time; all at once
+it occurred to him with a sudden feeling of dread that he had something
+to ask. He cast a searching glance at the woman. She was just saying:
+"Oh, how pleased your mother will be to have such a big son," when he
+jerked out: "Am I her son?" And as she did not answer, but only looked
+at him uncertainly with her eyes full of dismay, he almost shouted it:
+"Am I her son?"
+
+The mother and daughter exchanged a rapid glance; Frau Lämke had
+turned scarlet and looked very embarrassed. The boy had got hold of her
+arms with both hands and was bending over her. There was no getting out
+of it.
+
+"Don't tell me any lies," he said hastily. "I shall find it out all
+the same. I must find it out. Is she my mother? Answer. And my
+father--he isn't my real father either?"
+
+"Good gracious, Wolfgang, what makes you think of such a thing?"
+Frau Lämke hid her embarrassment under a forced laugh. "That's all
+nonsense."
+
+"Oh no." He remained quite serious. "I'm old enough now. I must know
+it. I must."
+
+The woman positively writhed: oh, how disagreeable it was for her;
+let the boy go somewhere else and ask. "I should get into nice trouble
+with them if I told tales," she said, trying to get out of it. "Ask
+your parents themselves, they'll tell you all you want to know. I'll
+take care not to meddle with such things."
+
+Frida opened her mouth as though she wanted to say something, but a
+warning glance made her remain silent. Her mother flew at her angrily:
+"Will you be quiet? To think of you mixing yourself up with it. What
+next. On the whole, what do chits like you know about such things?
+Wolfgang's father knows very well what the boy is to him and where he
+got him from. And if the lady is satisfied with it, no one else has a
+word to say about it."
+
+Wolfgang stared at the gossip. "The boys say--Lisbeth said--and now
+you say--you too"--he jumped up--"I'll go and ask--them." He pointed
+with his finger as though pointing at something at a great distance of
+which he knew nothing. "Now I must know it."
+
+"But Wolfgang--no, for God's sake!" Frau Lämke pressed him down into
+the chair again, quite terrified. "Lämke will beat me if he gets to
+know what I've done. He may possibly lose his situation as porter
+because of it--now, straightway, and the children don't earn anything
+as yet. I've not said anything, have I? How can I help that other
+people make you suspicious and uneasy? I don't know your mother at all
+and your father will, of course, have lost sight of her long ago. Let
+the whole thing lie, my boy." She wanted to soothe him, but he was not
+listening.
+
+"My--my father?" he stammered. "So he is my real father?"
+
+Frau Lämke nodded.
+
+"But my--my real m--" He could not say the word "mother." He held
+his hands before his face and his whole body quivered. He was suddenly
+seized with a longing, that great passionate longing, for a mother who
+had borne him. He did not say a word, but he uttered sighs that sounded
+like groans.
+
+Frau Lämke was frightened to death; she wanted to clear herself but
+made it much worse. "Tut, tut, my dear boy, such a thing often happens
+in life--very decent of him that he doesn't disown you; there are heaps
+who do. And you would have far to go to find anybody like the lady who
+has adopted you as her own child. Splendid--simply splendid!" Frau
+Lämke had often been vexed with the fine lady, but now she felt she
+wanted to do her justice. "Such a mother ought to be set in gold--there
+isn't such another to be found." She exhausted herself in praise. "And
+who knows if it's true after all?" And with that she concluded.
+
+Oh, it was all true. Wolfgang had grown quiet--at least his face no
+longer showed any special emotion when he let his hands fall. "I shall
+have to be going now," he said.
+
+Frida stood there looking very distressed. She had known it all a
+long time--who did not know it?--but she was very sorry indeed that
+_he_ knew it now. Her clear eyes grew dim, and she looked at her friend
+full of compassion. Oh, how much more beautiful her own confirmation
+last Easter had been. She had not had any gold watch, only quite a
+small brooch of imitation gold--it had cost one shilling and sixpence,
+for she had chosen it herself with her mother--but she had been so
+happy, so happy.
+
+"What text did you get?" she asked quickly, so as to take his
+thoughts away from it.
+
+"I don't know it by heart," he said evasively, and his
+cheeks that had grown pale flamed. "But it suited." And with that he
+went out of the door.
+
+He went straight home--why should he waste any more time? the matter
+was urgent. He did not notice the starlings flying in and out of their
+boxes on the tall pines, did not notice that there was already a bright
+crescent in the evening sky that was growing darker and darker, and a
+golden star near it, he only noticed with satisfaction as he entered
+the hall at the villa that the coats and hats had disappeared from
+the pegs. That was good, the visitors had left. He rushed to the
+drawing-room, he almost fell into the room. His father and mother were
+still sitting there--no, his father and she, the--the----
+
+"Come, tell us where you've been such along time," inquired his
+father, not without a touch of vexation in his voice.
+
+"To-day, just on this day," said his mother. "They all sent you
+their love, they waited for you. But it's almost eight o'clock
+now."
+
+Wolfgang cast an involuntary glance at the clock on the
+mantel-piece--right, nearly eight o'clock. But all that was immaterial
+now. And, staring straight in front of him as though his eyes were
+fixed on some object, he placed himself in front of the two.
+
+"I have something to ask you," he said. And then--it came out quite
+suddenly, quite abruptly. "Whose child am I?"
+
+Now it was said. The young voice sounded hard. Or did it only sound
+so cutting to Käte's ears? She heard something terribly shrill, like
+the dissonant blast of a trumpet. O God, there it was, that awful
+question. A sudden wave of blood laid a thick veil covered with
+glittering spots before her eyes; she could not see her boy any more,
+she only heard his question. She stretched out her hand
+gropingly, helplessly--thank God, there was her husband! He was still
+there. And now she heard him speak.
+
+"What makes you ask that question?" said Paul Schlieben. "Our son of
+course. Whose child could you be otherwise?"
+
+"I don't know. That's just what I want to know from you," the boy
+went on in his hard voice.
+
+It was strange how calm the voice sounded, but it seemed doubly
+terrible to Käte in its monotony.
+
+Now it became a little louder: "Give me an answer--I will--I must
+know it."
+
+Käte shuddered. What inexorableness, what obstinacy lay in that "I
+will"--"I must!" He would never stop asking again. She sank down as
+though crushed, and shuddered.
+
+Even the man's quiet voice betrayed a secret tremor. "Dear boy,
+somebody--I will not ask who, there are always enough gossips and
+abettors--has again put something into your head. Why do you treat us
+as if we were your enemies? Haven't we always been like a father and
+mother to you?"
+
+Oh, that was wrong--_like_ a father and mother? Quite wrong. Käte
+started up. She stretched out her arms: "My boy!"
+
+But he remained standing as though he did not see those outstretched
+arms; his brows were contracted, he only looked at the man. "I know
+very well that you are my father, but she"--he cast a quick sidelong
+glance at her--"she's not my mother."
+
+"Who says that?" Käte shrieked it.
+
+"Everybody."
+
+"No, nobody. That's not true. It's a lie, a lie! You are my child,
+my son, our son I And the one who denies that lies, deceives,
+slanders!----"
+
+"Käte!" Her husband looked at her very gravely, and there was a
+reproach in his voice and a warning. "Käte!"
+
+And then he turned to the boy, who stood there so sullenly, almost
+defiantly--drawn up to his full height, with one foot outstretched, his
+head thrown back--and said: "Your mother is naturally very much
+agitated, you must take care of her--to-day especially. Go now, and
+to-morrow we will----"
+
+"No, no!" Käte did not let him finish speaking, she cried in the
+greatest excitement: "No, don't postpone it. Let him speak--now--let
+him. And answer him--now--at once that he is our son, our son alone.
+Wolfgang--Wölfchen!" She used the old pet name from his childhood again
+for the first time for months. "Wölfchen, don't you love us any more?
+Wölfchen, come to me."
+
+She stretched out her arms to him once more, but he did not see
+those longing, loving, outstretched arms again. He was very pale and
+his eyes were fixed on the ground.
+
+"Wölfchen, come."
+
+"I cannot."
+
+His face never moved, and his voice had still the same monotonous
+tone which sounded so terrible to her. She sobbed aloud, and her eyes
+clung to her husband--he must help her now. But he looked at her with a
+frown; she could plainly read the reproach in his face: "Why did you
+not follow my advice? Had we told him in time--" No, she would not find
+any help in him either. And now--what was it Paul was saying now? Her
+eyes dilated with a sudden fear, she grasped the arms of her chair with
+both hands, she wanted to sink back and still she started up to ward
+off what must come now Was Paul out of his mind? He was saying: "You
+are not our son."
+
+"Not your son?" The boy stammered. He had made up his mind
+that nothing should disconcert him, but this answer disconcerted him
+all the same. It bewildered him; he turned red, then white, and his
+eyes wandered uncertainly from the man to the woman, from the woman to
+the man.
+
+So he, too--that man--was not his father either? But Frau Lämke had
+said so? Oh, so he wanted to disown him now? He looked suspiciously at
+the man, and then something that resembled mortification arose within
+him. If he were not his father, then he had really no--no right
+whatever to be there?
+
+And, drawing a step nearer, he said hastily: "You must be my father.
+You only don't want to say it now. But she"--he gave a curt nod in the
+direction of the chair--"she's not my mother." His eyes gleamed; then
+he added, drawing a long breath as though it were a relief: "I've
+always known that."
+
+"You've been wrongly informed. If I had had my way, I
+would have told you the truth long ago. But as the right
+moment--unfortunately--has been neglected, I will tell you it to-day.
+I tell you it--on my word of honour, as one man speaking to another--I
+am not your father, just as little as she is your mother. You have
+nothing to do with us by birth, nothing whatever. But we have adopted
+you as our child because we wanted to have a child and had not one. We
+took you from----"
+
+"Paul!" Käte fell on her husband's breast with a loud cry, as she
+had done at the time when he wanted to disclose something to the boy,
+because he was indignant at his ingratitude. She clasped her arms round
+his neck, she whispered hastily, passionately in his ear with trembling
+breath: "Don't tell him from where. For God's sake not from where. Then
+he'll go away, then I shall lose him entirely. I can't bear it--have
+mercy, have pity on me--only don't tell him from where."
+
+He wanted to push her away, but she would not let go of him. She
+repeated her weeping, stammering entreaty, her trembling, terrified,
+desperate prayer: only not from where, only not from where.
+
+He felt a great compassion for her. His poor, poor wife--was this to
+happen to her? And then he was filled with anger against the boy, who
+stood there so bold--arrogant--yes, arrogant--who demanded where he had
+to ask, and looked at them unmoved with large, cold eyes.
+
+His voice, which had hitherto been grave but gentle whilst speaking
+to Wolfgang, now became severe: "Besides, I won't allow you to question
+me in this manner."
+
+"I have a right to question you."
+
+"Yes, you have." The man was quite taken aback. Yes, the lad had the
+right. It was quite clear who was wrong. And so he said, thinking
+better of it and in a more friendly voice again: "But even if you are
+not our son by birth, I think the training and the care you have
+received from our hands during all these years have made you our child
+in spirit. Come, my son--and even if they all say you are not our son,
+I tell you you are our son in truth."
+
+"No," he said. And then he walked slowly backwards to the door, his
+dry eyes fixed on those he had called parents for so long.
+
+"Boy, where are you going? Stop!" the man called after him in a kind
+voice. The boy was certainly in a terrible position, they must have
+patience with him. And he called out once more "Stop, Wolfgang!"
+
+But Wolfgang shook his head: "I cannot. You have deceived me. Let me
+go." He shook off the man's hand that he had laid on his sleeve with a
+violent gesture.
+
+And then he screamed out like a wounded animal: "Why do you still
+worry me? Let me go, I want to think of my mother--where is she?"
+
+
+
+
+
+BOOK III
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+The clocks in the house ticked terribly loudly. They could be heard
+through the silence of the night like warning voices.
+
+Oh, how quickly the time flew. It had quite lately been
+evening--midnight--and now the clock on the mantel-piece already struck
+a short, clear, hard one.
+
+The lonely woman pressed her hands to her temples with a shudder.
+How they throbbed, and how her thoughts--torturing thoughts--hurried
+along, madly, restlessly, like the hasty tick of the clocks.
+
+Everybody in the house was asleep--the manservant, the maids, her
+husband too--long ago. Only she, she alone had not found any sleep as
+yet.
+
+And everything was asleep outside as well. The pines stood around
+the house motionless, and their dark outlines, as stiff as though cut
+out of cardboard, stood out clearly against the silvery sky of
+night.
+
+No shouts, no footsteps, no sound of wheels, no singing, no
+laughter, not even a dog's bark came from the sleeping colony in the
+Grunewald. But something that sounded like a gentle sighing was heard
+around the white villa with the red roof and the green shutters.
+
+The mother, who was waiting for her son, listened: was anybody
+there? No, it was the breeze that was trying to move the branches of
+the old gnarled pines.
+
+Käte Schlieben was standing at the window now. She had torn it open
+impatiently some time before, and now she leant out of it. As far as
+her eye could reach there was nobody to be seen, nobody whatever. There
+was still no sign of him.
+
+The clock struck two. The woman gazed round at the mantel-piece with
+an almost desperate look: oh, that unbearable clock, how it tortured
+her. It must be wrong. It could not be so late.
+
+Käte had sat up waiting for Wolfgang many an evening, but he had
+never remained out so long as to-day. Paul had no objection to the boy
+going his own way. "My child," he had said, "you can't alter it. Lie
+down and go to sleep, that is much more sensible. The boy has the key,
+he will come home all right. You can't keep a young fellow of his age
+in leading-strings any longer. Leave him, or you'll make him dislike
+our house--do leave him in peace."
+
+What strange thoughts Paul had. He was certainly quite right, she
+must not keep the boy in leading-strings any longer. She was not able
+to do so either--had never been able to do so. But how could she go to
+bed quietly? She would not be able to sleep. Where could he be?
+
+Käte had grown grey. In the three years that had elapsed since her
+son's confirmation she had changed considerably outwardly. Whilst
+Wolfgang had grown taller and stronger and broader like a young tree,
+her figure had drooped like a flower that is heavy with rain or is
+about to wither. Her fine features had remained the same, but her skin,
+which had retained almost the delicate smoothness of a young girl's for
+so long, had become looser; her eyes looked as if she had wept a great
+deal. Her acquaintances found Frau Schlieben had grown much older.
+
+When Käte saw herself in the glass now, she did not blush with
+pleasure at the sight of her own well-preserved looks; she did not like
+looking at herself any more. Something had given her a shock both
+inwardly and outwardly. What that had been nobody guessed. Her husband
+knew it certainly, but he did not speak of it to his wife. Why agitate
+her again? Why tear open old wounds?
+
+He took good care never again to mention the day on which the boy
+had been confirmed. It was also best not to do so. He had certainly
+taken him very severely to task on account of his ungrateful behaviour
+at the time, and had demanded of him that he should treat them more
+considerately and his mother also more affectionately. And the lad, who
+had no doubt repented of his conduct long ago, had stood there like a
+poor sinner; he had said nothing and had not raised his eyes. And when
+his father had finally led him to his mother, he had allowed himself to
+be led and to be embraced by his mother, who had thrown both her arms
+round his neck. She had wept over him and then kissed him.
+
+And then nothing more had ever been said about it.
+
+The white house with its bright green and red, which was always
+being embellished and improved, both inside and out, struck everybody
+who passed by as extremely cosy. The trippers on Sundays used to stand
+outside the wrought iron railing and admire the abundance of flowers,
+the ivy-leaved geraniums on the balconies and the splendid show of fine
+rose-trees in summer, the azaleas and camellias behind the thick glass
+of the conservatory and the rows of coloured primulas and early
+hyacinths and tulips between the double windows in winter. The lady in
+her dress of soft cloth and with the wavy grey hair and the gentle
+face, with its rather sad smile, suited the house and the
+flowers and her peaceful surroundings well. "Delightful," the people
+used to say.
+
+When Wolfgang heard such things in former years when he was a boy,
+he used to make faces at the people: the house and garden were no
+concern of theirs, there was nothing to admire about them. Now it
+flattered him when they remained standing, when they even envied him.
+Oh yes, the place was quite nice. He felt very important.
+
+Paul Schlieben and his wife had never placed any special value on
+money, they had always had enough, a competency was simply a matter of
+course to them; and they never guessed that their son placed any value
+on wealth. When Wolfgang used to think now of how little he had once
+cared for it all in his boyish impetuosity, and that he had run away
+without money, without bread, he had to smile. How childish. And when
+he remembered that he once, when he was already older and able to
+reflect upon his actions, had asked impetuously for something that
+would have been equivalent to giving up all that made his life so
+comfortable, he shook his head now. Too silly.
+
+To compare himself with others afforded him a certain satisfaction.
+Kesselborn was still sweating in the top form--his people made a point
+of his studying theology, possibly in order to become court chaplain on
+account of his noble birth--Lehmann had to help his father in his
+forwarding business in spite of the very good examination he had passed
+on leaving school, and look after the furniture-vans. And Kullrich--ah,
+poor Kullrich, he had consumption, like his mother.
+
+The corners of Wolfgang's mouth drooped with a half-contemptuous,
+half-compassionate smile when he thought of his school-fellows. Was
+that living? Oh, and to live, to live was so beautiful!
+
+Wolfgang was conscious of his strength: he could tear up trees by
+the roots, blow down walls that stood in his way with his breath as
+though they were cards.
+
+School was no longer the place for him, his limbs and his
+inclinations had outgrown the benches. Besides, he was already growing
+a moustache. There had long been a black shadow on the upper lip that
+made one guess it was coming, and now it had come, it had come!
+
+Surely such a grown-up person could not remain in the second form
+any longer? And why should he? He was not to be a scholar. Wolfgang
+left school after passing the examination that admitted him to the top
+form.
+
+Paul Schlieben had given up, for the present, his intention of
+sending him abroad as soon as he had finished school; he wished to keep
+him a little longer under his own eye first. Not that he wanted to
+guard him as carefully as Käte did, but the old doctor, their good
+friend whom he esteemed so highly, had warned him in confidence once
+when they were sitting quite alone over a glass of wine: "Listen,
+Schlieben," he had said, "you had better take care of the boy. I
+wouldn't let him go so far away as yet--he is so young. And he is a
+rampageous fellow and--after what he went through as a child, you
+know--hm, one can never tell if his heart will hold out."
+
+"Why not?" Schlieben had asked in surprise. "So you look upon him as
+ill?"
+
+"No, certainly not." The doctor had grown quite angry: at once this
+exaggeration! "Who says anything about 'ill'? All the same, the lad
+must not do everything in a rush. Well, and boys will be boys. We know
+that from our time."
+
+And both men had nodded to each other, had brightened up and
+laughed.
+
+Wolfgang had a horse to ride on, rode first at the riding-school and
+then a couple of hours each day out of doors. His father made a point
+of his not sitting too much at the office. He would easily learn what
+was necessary for him to know as a merchant, and arithmetic he knew
+already.
+
+The two partners, old bachelors, were delighted with the lively lad,
+who came to the office with his whip in his hand and sat on his stool
+as if it were a horse.
+
+Paul Schlieben did not hear any complaints of his son; the whole
+staff, men who had been ten, twenty years with the firm, all well-oiled
+machines that worked irreproachably, hung round the young fellow: he
+was their future chief. Everything worked smoothly.
+
+Both father and mother were complimented on their son. "A splendid
+fellow. What life there is in him." "He's only in the making," the man
+would answer, but still you could see that he was pleased to hear it in
+his heart. He did not feel the torturing anxiety his wife felt. Käte
+only raised her eyebrows a little and gave a slight, somewhat sad smile
+of consent.
+
+She could not rejoice in the big lad any longer, as she had once
+rejoiced in the little fellow on her lap. It seemed to her as though
+she had altogether lost the capacity for rejoicing, slowly, it is true,
+quite gradually, but still steadily, until the last remnant of the
+capacity had been torn out by the roots on one particular day, in one
+particular hour, at the disastrous moment when he had said: "I will go,
+I want to think of my mother--where is she?" Ever since then. She still
+wished him to have the best the earth could give, but she had become
+more indifferent, tired. He had trodden too heavily on her heart, more
+heavily than when in days gone by his small vigorous feet had stamped
+on her lap.
+
+She bent further out of the window with a deep sigh, as she waited
+all alone for him. Was it not unheard of, unpardonable of him to come
+home so late? Did he not know that she was waiting for him?
+
+She clenched her hand, which rested on the windowsill, in such a
+paroxysm of anger as she had rarely felt. It was foolish of her to wait
+for him. Was he not old enough--eighteen? Did he still want waiting for
+like a boy coming home alone from a children's party for the first
+time? He had made an appointment with some other young fellows in
+Berlin--who knew in what café they were spending their night?
+
+She stamped her foot. Her hot breath rose like smoke in the cold
+clear night in spring, she shivered with exhaustion and discomfort. And
+then she thought of the hours, all the hours during which she had
+watched for him already, and her heart was filled with a great
+bitterness. Even her tongue had a bitter taste--that was gall. No, she
+did not feel the love of former years for him any longer. In those
+days, yes, in those days she had felt a rapture--even when she suffered
+on his account; but now she only felt a dull animosity. Why had he
+forced himself into her life? Oh, how smooth, how free from sorrow,
+how--yes, how much happier it had been formerly. How he had broken her
+spirit--would she ever be able to rise again?
+
+No. A hard curt no. And then she thought of her husband. He had also
+robbed her of him. Had not he and she been one formerly, one in
+everything? Now this third one had forced his way between them, pushed
+her husband and her further and further apart--until he went on this
+side and she on that.
+
+A sudden pain seized the woman as she stood there pondering, a great
+compassion for herself drove the tears into her eyes; they felt hot as
+they dripped down on her hands that she had clenched on the
+window-sill. If he--if he had only never come into their lives----
+
+At that moment a hand touched her shoulder and made her start. She
+turned round like lightning: "Are you there at last?"
+
+"It's I," said her husband. He had woke up, and when he did not hear
+her breathing beside him he had got vexed: really, now she was sitting
+downstairs again, waiting for the lad. Such want of sense. And after
+lying a little time longer waiting for her and vexed with her, he had
+cast on a few necessary garments, stuck on his slippers and groped his
+way through the dark house. He shivered with cold and was in a bad
+humour. That he had been disturbed in his best sleep and that she would
+have a sick headache next day was not all; no, what was worse was that
+Wolfgang must find it downright intolerable to be watched in that
+manner.
+
+It was natural that he scolded her. "What wrong is there if he
+remains away a little longer for once in a way, I should like to know,
+Käte? It's really absurd of you. I used also to loaf about as a young
+fellow, but thank goodness, my mother was sensible enough not to mind.
+Come, Käte, come to bed now."
+
+She drew back. "Yes--you!" she said slowly, and he did not know what
+she meant by it. She turned her back on him and leant out of the window
+again.
+
+He stood a few moments longer waiting, but as she did not come, did
+not even turn round to him, he shook his head. He would have to leave
+her, she really was getting quite peculiar.
+
+He was half asleep as he went upstairs again alone; he almost
+stumbled with fatigue, and his limbs were heavy. But in spite of that
+his thoughts were clearer, more inexorable than in the daytime, when
+there is so much around one to distract one's attention. At that hour
+his heart was filled with longing for a wife who would lead him quietly
+and gently along a soft track in his old age, and whose smiles were
+not only outward as the smiles on Käte's face. A wife whose heart
+laughed--and, alas, his Käte was not one of those.
+
+The man lay down again with a sigh of disappointment and shivered as
+he drew up the covering. But it was a long time before he could fall
+asleep. If only the lad would come. It really was rather late to-day.
+Such loafing about realty went too far.
+
+The morning was dawning as a cab drove slowly down the street. It
+stopped outside the white villa, and two gentlemen helped a third out
+of it. The two, who were holding the third under his arms, were
+laughing, and the driver on his seat, who was looking down at them full
+of interest, also laughed slyly: "Shall I help you, gentlemen? Well,
+can you do it?"
+
+They leant him up against the railing that enclosed the front
+garden, rang the bell gently, then jumped hastily into the cab again
+and banged the door. "Home now, cabby."
+
+The bell had only vibrated softly--a sound like a terrified
+breath--but Käte had heard it, although she had fallen asleep in her
+chair; not firmly, only dozing a little. She jumped up in terror, it
+sounded shrill in her ears. She rushed to the window. Somebody was
+leaning against the railing outside. Wolfgang? Yes, yes, it was. But
+why did he not open the gate and come in?
+
+What had happened to him? All at once she felt as though she must
+call for help--Friedrich! Paul! Paul!--must ring for the maids.
+Something had happened to him, something must have happened to him--why
+did he not come in?
+
+He leant so heavily against the railing, so strangely. His
+head hung down on his chest, his hat was at the back of his head. Was
+he ill?
+
+Or had some vagrants attacked him? The strangest ideas shot suddenly
+through her head. Was he wounded? O God, what had happened to him?
+
+Fears, at which she would have laughed at any other time, filled her
+mind in this hour, in which it was not night any longer and not day
+either. Her feet were cold and stiff as though frozen, she could hardly
+get to the door; she could not find the key at first, and when her
+trembling hands stuck it into the lock, she could not turn it. She was
+so awkward in her haste, so beside herself in her fear. Something
+terrible must have happened. An accident. She felt it.
+
+At last, at last! At last she was able to turn the key. And now she
+rushed through the front garden to the gate; a chilling icy wind like
+the breath of winter met her. She opened the gate: "Wolfgang!"
+
+He did not answer. She could not quite see his face; he stood there
+without moving.
+
+She took hold of his hand: "Good gracious, what's the matter with
+you?"
+
+He did not move.
+
+"Wolfgang! Wolfgang!" She shook him in the greatest terror. Then he
+fell against her so heavily that he almost knocked her down, and
+faltered, lisped like an idiot whose heavy tongue has been taught to
+say a few words: "Beg--par--don."
+
+She had to lead him. His breath, which smelt strongly of spirits,
+blew across her face. A great disgust, more terrible than the fear she
+had had before, took possession of her. This was the awful thing she
+had been expecting no, this was still more awful, more intolerable. He
+was drunk, drunk! This was what a drunken man must look like.
+
+A drunken man had never been near her before; now she had one close
+to her. The horror she felt shook her so that her teeth chattered. Oh
+for shame, for shame, how disgusting, how vulgar! How degraded he
+seemed to her, and she felt degraded, too, through him. This was not
+her Wolfgang any more, the child whom she had adopted as her son. This
+was quite an ordinary, quite a common man from the street, with whom
+she had nothing, nothing whatever to do any more.
+
+She wanted to push him away from her quickly, to hurry into the
+house and close the door behind her--let him find out for himself what
+to do. But he held her fast. He had laid his arm heavily round her
+neck, he almost weighed her down; thus he forced her to lead him.
+
+And she led him reluctantly, revolting desperately in her heart, but
+still conquered. She could not leave him, exposed to the servants'
+scorn, the laughter of the street. If anybody should see him in that
+condition? It would not be long before the first people came past, the
+milk-boys, the girls with the bread, the men working in the street,
+those who drank Carlsbad water early in the morning. Oh, how terrible
+if anybody should guess how deeply he had sunk.
+
+"Lean on me, lean heavily," she said in a trembling voice. "Pull
+yourself together--that's right." She almost broke down under his
+weight but she kept him on his feet. He was so drunk that he did not
+know what he was doing, he actually wanted to lie down in front of the
+door, at full length on the stone steps. But she snatched him up.
+
+"You must--you must," she said, and he followed her like a child.
+Like a dog, she thought.
+
+Now she had got him into the hall--the front door was again
+locked--but now came the fear that the servants would see him.
+They were not up yet, but it would not be long before Friedrich would
+walk over from the gardener's lodge in his leather slippers, and the
+girls come down from their attics, and then the sweeping and tidying up
+would commence, the opening of the windows, the drawing up of the
+blinds, so that the bright light--the cruel light--might force its way
+into every crevice. She must get him up the stairs, into his room
+without anybody guessing anything, without asking anyone for help.
+
+She had thought of her husband for one moment--but no, not him
+either, nobody must see him like that. She helped him upstairs with a
+strength for which she had never given herself credit; she positively
+carried him. And all the time she kept on entreating him to go quietly,
+whispering the words softly but persistently. She had to coax him, or
+he would not go on: "Quietly, Wölfchen. Go on, go on, Wölfchen--that's
+splendid, Wölfchen."
+
+She suffered the torments of hell. He stumbled and was noisy; she
+gave a start every time he knocked his foot against the stairs, every
+time the banisters creaked when he fell against them helplessly, and a
+terrible fear almost paralysed her. If anybody should hear it, oh, if
+anybody should hear it. But let them get on, on.
+
+"Quietly, Wölfchen, quite quietly." It sounded like an entreaty, and
+still it was a command. As he had conquered her before by means of his
+heavy arm, so she conquered him now by means of her will.
+
+Everybody in the house must be deaf, that they did not hear the
+noise. To the woman every step sounded like a clap of thunder that
+continues to roll and roll through the wide space and resounds in the
+furthermost corner. Paul must be deaf as well. They passed his door.
+The intoxicated lad remained standing just outside his parents'
+bedroom, he would not on any account go further--in there--not a step
+further. She had to entice him, as she had enticed the child in bygone
+days, the sweet little child with the eyes like sloes that was to run
+from the chair to the next halting-place. "Come, Wölfchen, come." And
+she brought him past in safety.
+
+At last they were in his room. "Thank God, thank God!" she
+stammered, when she had got him on the bed. She was as pale as the lad,
+whose face with its silly expression grew more and more livid as the
+day dawned. Ah, that was the same room in which she had once, many
+years ago--it was exceedingly long ago!--fought for the child's
+precious life with fear and trembling, where she had crawled before
+God's omnipotence like a worm: only let him live, O God, only let him
+live! Alas, it would have been better had he died then.
+
+As an arrow shot from a too tight bow whizzes along as quick as
+lightning, so that thought whizzed through her mind. She was horrified
+at the thought, she could not forgive herself for having had it, but
+she could not get rid of it again. She stood with shaking knees,
+terrified at her own heartlessness, and still the thought came: if only
+he had died at the time, it would have been better. This--this was also
+the room in which she had tried on the suit the boy, who was growing so
+fast, was to wear at his confirmation. Now she drew off the grown-up
+man's clothes, tore off his dinner jacket, his fine trousers--as well
+as she could in his present state of complete unconsciousness--and
+unlaced his glacé shoes.
+
+Where had he been? A smell of cigarettes and scent and the dregs of
+wine streamed from him; it almost took her breath away. There hung the
+same looking-glass in which she had seen the brown boy's face near
+her fair woman's face, fresh and round-cheeked, a little coarse, a
+little defiant, but still so nice-looking in its vigorous strength, so
+dear in its innocence. And now--?
+
+Her eyes glanced at the livid face with the open mouth, from which
+the breath reeking with spirits came with a snore and a rattle, in the
+glass, and then at her own terrified, exhausted face, on which all the
+softness had been changed into hard lines that grief had worn. A
+shudder passed through her; she smoothed the untidy grey strands of
+hair away from her forehead with her cold hand; her eyes blinked as
+though she wanted to weep. But she forced her tears back; she must not
+cry any more now; that time was over.
+
+She stood some time longer in the centre of the room, motionless,
+with bated breath, letting her tired arms hang down loosely; then she
+crept on her toes to the door. He was sleeping quite firmly. She locked
+the door from the outside and stuck the key in her pocket--nobody must
+go in.
+
+Should she go to bed now? She could not sleep--oh, she was too
+restless--but she would have to lie down, oh yes, she must do so,
+or what would the maids think, and Paul? Then she would have to
+get up again as she did every day, wash herself, dress, sit at the
+breakfast-table, eat, talk, smile as she did every day, as though
+nothing, nothing whatever had happened. And still so much had
+happened!
+
+She felt so hopelessly isolated as she lay in bed beside her
+husband. There was nobody to whom she could complain. Paul had not
+understood her before, he would understand her even less now; he had
+changed so much in the course of time. Besides, was he not quite
+infatuated with the boy now? Strange, formerly when she had loved
+Wolfgang so, her love had always been too much of a good thing--how
+often he had reproached her for it!--and now, now!--no, they
+simply did not understand each other any longer. She would have to
+fight her battles alone, quite alone.
+
+When Käte heard the first sounds in the house, she would have liked
+to get up, but she forced herself to remain in bed: it would attract
+their attention if they saw her so early. But a great fear tortured
+her. If that person--that, that intoxicated person over there should
+awake, make a noise, bang on the locked door? What should she say then
+to make excuses for him? What should she do? She lay in bed quite
+feverish with uneasiness. At last it was her usual time to get up.
+
+"I suppose the boy came home terribly late--or rather early, eh?"
+said Paul at breakfast.
+
+"Oh no. Just after you went upstairs."
+
+"Really? But I lay awake quite a long time after that."
+
+He had said it lightly, unsuspiciously, but she got a fright
+nevertheless. "We--we--he talked to me for quite a long time," she said
+hesitatingly.
+
+"Foolish," he said, nothing more, and shook his head.
+
+Oh, how difficult it was to tell lies. In what a position Wolfgang
+placed her.
+
+When Schlieben had driven to town and the cook was busy in the
+kitchen and Friedrich in the garden, Käte kept an eye on the housemaid.
+What a long time she was in the bedroom to-day. "You must finish the
+rooms upstairs more quickly, you are excessively slow," she said in a
+sharp voice.
+
+The maid looked at her mistress, quite astonished at the unusual way
+in which she spoke to her, and said later on to the cook downstairs:
+"Ugh, what a bad temper the mistress is in to-day. She has been after
+me."
+
+Käte had stood beside the girl until the bedroom was finished, she
+had positively rushed her. Now she was alone, quite alone with
+him up there, now she could see what was the matter with him.
+
+Would he still be drunk? As she stood outside his door she held her
+breath; putting her ear to the door she listened. There was nothing to
+be heard inside, not even his breathing. After casting a glance around
+her she opened the door like a thief, crept inside and locked it again
+behind her. She approached the bed cautiously and softly; but she
+started back so hastily that the high-backed chair she knocked against
+fell over with a loud noise. What was that--there? What was it?
+
+A disgusting smell, which filled the closed room, made her feel
+sick. Staggering to the window she tore it open, thrust back the
+shutters--then she saw. There he lay like an animal--he, who had always
+been accustomed to so much attention, he who as a child had stretched
+out his little hands if only a crumb had stuck to them: "Make them
+clean!" and had cried. There he lay now as if he did not feel anything,
+as if he did not care anything whatever about what was going on around
+him, as if the bed on which he lay were fresh and clean; his eyes, with
+their jet-black lashes that fell like shadows on his pale cheeks, were
+firmly closed, and he slept the heavy sleep of exhaustion.
+
+She did not know what she was doing. She raised her hand to strike
+him in the face, to throw a word at him--a violent word expressive of
+disgust and loathing; she felt how the saliva collected in her mouth,
+how she longed to spit. It was too horrible, too filthy, too terrible!
+
+A stream of light forced its way in through the open window, of
+light and sun; a blackbird was singing, full and clear. Outside was the
+sun, outside was beauty, but here, here? She would have liked to cover
+up her face and whimper, to run away and conceal herself. But
+who should do what was necessary? Who should make everything tidy and
+clean? The chair she had knocked down, the clothes she had drawn off
+him so hastily, the disgusting smell--alas, all reminded her only too
+distinctly of a wild night. It must not remain like that. And even if
+she did not love him any longer--no, no, there was no voice in her
+heart now that spoke of love--her pride bade her not to humble herself
+before the servants. Let her get it away quickly, quickly, let nobody
+else find out anything about it.
+
+She set her teeth hard, pressing back the disgust that rose again
+and again as though to choke her, and commenced to wash, scrub, clean.
+She fetched water for herself again and again, the pitcher full, a
+whole pailful. She had to do it furtively, to creep across the passage
+on tiptoe. Oh dear, how the water splashed, how noisily it poured into
+the pail when she turned the tap on. If only nobody, nobody found out
+anything about it.
+
+She had found a cloth to scour with, and what she had never done
+before in her life she did now, for she lay on her knees like a servant
+and rubbed the floor, and crept about in front of the bed and under the
+bed, and stretched out her arms so as to be sure to get into every
+corner. Nothing must be forgotten, everything must be flooded with
+fresh, clean, purifying water. Everything in the room seemed to her to
+be soiled--as though it were damaged and degraded--the floor, the
+furniture, the walls. She would have preferred to have washed the
+wall-paper too, that beautiful deep-coloured wallpaper, or to have torn
+it off entirely.
+
+She had never worked like that in her life before. Her pretty
+morning-gown with the silk insertions and lace clung to her body with
+the perspiration of exertion and fear. The dress had dark
+spots on the knees from slipping about in the wet, the hem of the train
+had got into the water; her hair was dishevelled; it had come undone
+and was hanging round her hot face. Nobody would have recognised Frau
+Schlieben as she was now.
+
+At last, thank goodness! Käte looked round with a sigh of relief;
+the air in the room was quite different now. The fresh wind that blew
+in through the open window had cleared everything. Only he, he did not
+suit amid all that cleanliness. His forehead was covered with clammy
+sweat, his cheeks were livid, his lips swollen, cracked, his hair
+bristly, standing straight up in tufts. Then she washed him, too,
+cooled his forehead and dried it, rubbed his cheeks with soap and a
+sponge, fetched a brush and comb, combed and smoothed his hair, ran
+quickly across to her room, brought the Florida water that stood on her
+dressing-table and sprinkled it over him. Now she had only to put on
+another bed-spread. She could not do any more, it was too difficult for
+her to lift him. For he did not awake. He lay there like a tree that
+had been hewn down--dead, stiff, immovable--and noticed nothing of the
+trembling hands that glided over him, that pulled and smoothed now
+here, now there.
+
+She did not know how long she had been engaged with him; a knock at
+the door brought her thoughts back to the present.
+
+"Who is there?"
+
+"I, Friedrich."
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+"The master wishes to know if you will come down to dinner,
+ma'am."
+
+"To dinner--the master?" She pressed her hands to her head. Was it
+possible? Paul back already--dinner-time? It could not be. "What time
+is it?" she cried in a shrill voice. She never thought of
+looking herself at the watch that lay on the table beside the bed; and
+it would not have been any use--the expensive gold watch, the gift he
+had received at his confirmation, had stopped. It had not been wound
+up.
+
+"It's half past two, ma'am," said Friedrich outside. And then the
+man, who had been there for years, ventured to inquire respectfully:
+"Is the young master not well, as he has not got up? Could I perhaps be
+of some use, ma'am?"
+
+She hesitated for a moment. Should she let him into the secret? It
+would be easier for her then. But the shame of it made her call out:
+"There's nothing to be done, you had better go. The young master has a
+headache, he will remain in bed for another hour. I'll come
+directly."
+
+She rushed across to her room. There was no time to change her
+dress, but she would at any rate have to fasten up her hair that had
+fallen down, smooth it and put a little cap on trimmed with dainty
+ribbons.
+
+"Still in your morning-gown?" said her husband in a tone of
+surprise, as she came into the dining-room. There was also a little
+reproach in his voice as he asked the question; he did not like people
+not to dress for dinner.
+
+"You came exceptionally early to-day," she said in excuse. She did
+not dare to look up frankly, she felt so exceedingly humiliated. She
+could not eat, an intolerable memory rendered every drink, every
+mouthful loathsome.
+
+"Where is Wolfgang?"
+
+There was the question for which she really ought to have been
+prepared and which crushed her nevertheless. She had no means of
+warding it off. What was she to answer? Should she say he was ill? Then
+his father would go up and see him. Should she say he was
+drunk and sleeping? Oh no, no, and still it could not remain a secret.
+She turned red and white, her lips quivered and not a word crossed
+them.
+
+"Ha ha!" All at once her husband gave a loud laugh--a laugh partly
+good-natured and partly mocking--and then he stretched his hand to her
+across the table and eyed her calmly: "You must not agitate yourself
+like that if the boy feels a little seedy for once in a way. Such
+things do happen, every mother has to go through that."
+
+"But not to that degree--not to that awful degree!" She screamed out
+aloud, overwhelmed with pain and anger. And then she seized her
+husband's hand and squeezed it between both hers that were cold and
+damp, and whispered, half stifled: "He was drunk--quite drunk--dead
+drunk!"
+
+"Really?" The man frowned, but the smile did not quite disappear
+from his lips. "Well, I'll have a word with the boy when he has
+finished sleeping. Dead drunk, you say?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"It won't have been quite as bad as that, I suppose. Still, to be
+drunk--that must not happen again. To take a little too much"--he
+shrugged his shoulders and a smile passed over his face as at some
+pleasant memory--"by Jove, who has been young and not taken a little
+too much for once in a way? Oh, I can still remember the first time I
+had done so. The headache after it was appalling, but the drop too much
+itself was fine, splendid! I would not like to have missed that."
+
+"You--you've been drunk too?" She stared at him, with eyes
+distended.
+
+"Drunk--you mustn't call that drunk exactly. A little too much," he
+corrected. "You mustn't exaggerate like that, Käte." And then
+he went on with his dinner as if nothing had happened, as if the
+conversation had not succeeded in depriving him of his appetite.
+
+She was in a fever. When would Wolfgang wake? And what would happen
+then?
+
+Towards evening she heard his step upstairs, heard him close his
+window and then open it again, heard his low whistle that always
+sounded like a bird chirping. Paul was walking up and down in the
+garden, smoking his cigar. She was sitting in the veranda for the first
+time that spring, looking down at her husband in the garden. The
+weather was mild and warm. Then she heard Wolfgang approaching; she
+made up her mind she would not turn her head, she felt so ashamed, but
+she turned it nevertheless.
+
+He was standing in the doorway leading from the dining-room to the
+veranda; behind him was twilight, in front of him the brightness of the
+evening sun. He blinked and pressed his eyes together, the sun shone on
+his face and made it flame--or was it red because he felt so ashamed?
+What would he say now? How would he begin? Her heart throbbed; she
+could not have spoken a single word, her throat felt as though she were
+choking.
+
+"Good evening," he said in a loud and cheery voice. And then he
+cleared his throat as though swallowing a slight embarrassment and said
+in a low voice, approaching his mother a little more: "I beg your
+pardon, mater, I've overslept myself. I had no idea it was so late--I
+was dead tired."
+
+Still she did not say anything.
+
+He did not know how he stood with her. She was so quiet, that
+confused him a little. "The fact is, I came home very late last
+night."
+
+"Oh! did you?" She turned her head away from him and looked
+out into the garden again with eyes full of interest, where her husband
+was just speaking to Friedrich and pointing with his finger to an
+ornamental cherry-tree that was already in bloom.
+
+"I think so, at least," he said. What was he to say? Was she angry?
+He must indeed have come home very late, he could not remember at what
+time, altogether he could not remember anything clearly, everything
+seemed rather blurred to him. He had also had a bad dream and had felt
+wretched, but now he was all right again, quite all right. Well, if she
+had any fault to find with him, she would have to come out with it.
+
+Pointing his lips again so as to whistle like a bird and with his
+hands in the pockets of his smart, well-cut trousers, he was about to
+go down into the garden from the veranda when she called him back.
+
+"Do you want anything, mater?"
+
+"You were drunk," she said softly, vehemently.
+
+"I--? Oh!" He was overcome with a sudden confusion. Had he really
+been drunk? He had no idea of it. But she might be right all the same,
+for he had no idea how he had come home.
+
+"I suppose you've again been sitting up waiting for me?" He gave her
+a suspicious sidelong glance, and frowned so heavily that his dark
+eyebrows met. "You mustn't always wait up for me," he said with secret
+impatience, but outwardly his tone was anxious. "It makes me lose all
+liking to do anything with the others if I think you are sacrificing
+your night's rest. Please don't do so again, mater."
+
+"I won't do so again," she said, with her eyes fixed on her lap. She
+could not have looked at him, she despised him so. How broad and big
+and bold he had looked as he stood there saying good evening quite
+happily. He had behaved as if he knew nothing of all that
+had happened, that he had wanted to creep on all fours, stretch
+himself on the doorstep as if that were his bed or he a dog. He was
+as unembarrassed as though he had not been lying in his room at
+dinner-time in such--such a filthy condition; as though she had not
+seen him in his deep humiliation. No, she would never, never be able to
+kiss him again or caress him, to lay her arms round his neck as she had
+been so fond of doing when he was a boy. All at once he had become
+quite a stranger to her.
+
+She did not say another word, did not reproach him. She heard what
+her husband said to him, when he joined him in the garden, as if it did
+not concern her.
+
+Although Paul Schlieben had seemed very mild when speaking to his
+wife at dinner-time, he was not so now when face to face with his son.
+"I hear you came home drunk--what do you mean by that?" he said to him
+severely. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"
+
+"Who has said so?"
+
+"That's nothing to do with you, I know it, and that is
+sufficient."
+
+"_She_, of course," said the boy bitterly. "The mater always
+exaggerates everything. I was certainly not drunk, I only had a little
+too much--we all had--good gracious, pater, you must do what the others
+do! What else is one to do on such a long evening? But it was certainly
+nothing bad. See how fresh I am." And he took hold of the ornamental
+cherry-tree, under which they were standing, with both hands, as if he
+were going to root it up, and a whole shower of white blossoms fell
+down on him and on the path.
+
+"Let my tree alone," said his father, smiling.
+
+Käte saw it. Could Paul laugh? So he did not take it very seriously,
+after all. But that did not provoke her as it would have done
+some time ago, she felt as if everything in her were cold and dead. She
+heard the two speak as though they were far, far away, their voices
+sounded quite low, and still they were speaking loudly and also
+animatedly.
+
+All the same the conversation was not altogether friendly. Even if
+the man was not seriously angry with the lad, he still considered it
+his duty to expostulate with him. He concluded by saying: "Such
+immoderate drinking is disgusting!"--but he thought to himself: "It
+cannot have been so bad as Käte makes out, or I should have seen some
+signs of it." His brown cheeks were smooth and firm, so shiny and so
+lately washed, his eyes, which were not large but noticeable on account
+of their dark depths, were even more sparkling than usual.
+
+The man laid his hand on his son's shoulder: "So we must have no
+more of that, Wolfgang, if we're to remain friends."
+
+The boy shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "I really don't know what
+crime I've committed, pater. The whole thing is something of a mystery
+to me. But it shan't happen again, I promise you."
+
+And they shook hands.
+
+Now something really did stir in Käte. She would have liked to have
+jumped up, to have cried: "Don't believe him, Paul, don't believe him.
+He's sure to get drunk again. I don't trust him. I cannot trust him. If
+you had seen him as I saw him--oh, he was so vulgar!" And as in a
+vision a village tavern suddenly appeared before her eyes, a tavern she
+had never seen. Rough men sat round the wooden table, leaning on their
+elbows, smoking evil-smelling tobacco, drinking heavily, bawling wildly
+... ah, had not his father sat among them? His grandfather too? All
+those from whom he was descended? She was seized with a
+terrible fear. It could never, never end well.
+
+"You are so pale, Käte," her husband said at the evening meal. "You
+sat still too long; it is still too cold outside."
+
+"Aren't you well, mater?" inquired Wolfgang, politely anxious.
+
+Käte did not answer her son, she only looked at her husband and
+shook her head: "I am quite well."
+
+That satisfied them.
+
+Wolfgang ate with a good appetite, with a specially big one even; he
+was quite ravenous. There were also lots of good things of which he was
+fond: hot fricassee of chicken with sweetbread, force-meat balls and
+crawfish tails, and then some very good cold meat, butter and cheese
+and young radishes.
+
+"Boy, don't drink so much," said Paul Schlieben, as Wolfgang seized
+the decanter again.
+
+"I'm thirsty," said his son with a certain defiance, filling his
+glass to the brim and drinking it in one gulp.
+
+"That comes of revelling." His father shook his finger at him, but
+smiled at the same time.
+
+"It comes of swilling," thought Käte, and she shuddered with disgust
+again. She had never used such an expression before even in her
+thoughts, but now none seemed strong, blunt, contemptuous enough.
+
+There was no pleasant conversation in spite of the room being so
+cosy, the appointments of the table so beautiful, the flowers so
+prettily arranged in a cut-glass bowl on the white table-cloth, and
+above it all a soft subdued light under a green silk shade. Käte was so
+monosyllabic that Paul soon seized the newspaper, and the boy, after
+trying to stifle his yawns, at last got up. It was really too awfully
+slow to have to sit there. Should he drive into Berlin again
+or go to bed? He did not quite know himself what to do.
+
+"You are going to bed now?" said his mother. It was intended for a
+question, but Käte heard herself that it did not sound like one.
+
+"Of course he's going to bed now," said his father, looking up from
+his paper for a moment. "He's tired. Good night, my lad."
+
+"I'm not tired." Wolfgang grew red and hot. What did they mean by
+wanting to persuade him that he was tired? He was no longer a child to
+be sent to bed. His mother's tone irritated him especially--"you are
+going to bed now"--that was an order.
+
+The sparkle in his dark eyes became a blaze; the expression of
+defiance and refractoriness on his face was not pleasant to see. They
+could no doubt see in what a passion he was, but his father said "Good
+night," and held out his hand to him without looking up from the
+newspaper.
+
+His mother also said "Good night."
+
+And the son grasped first one hand and then the other--he imprinted
+the usual kiss on his mother's hand--and said "Good night."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+Paul Schlieben was sitting in his private office, in the red armchair
+he had had placed there for his comfort. But he was not leaning back in
+it, he was sitting very uncomfortably, straight up, and he looked like
+a man who has made a disagreeable discovery. How could the boy have
+contracted debts--with such ample pocket-money? And then that he had
+not the courage to come and say: "Father, I've spent too much, help
+me," was simply incomprehensible. Was he such a severe father that his
+son had reason to fear him? Did the fear drive out love? He reviewed
+his own conduct; he really could not reproach himself for having been
+too strict. If he had not always been so yielding as Käte--she was too
+yielding--he had always thought he had repeatedly shown the boy that he
+was fond of him. And had he not also--just lately--thought the boy was
+fond of him too? More fond of him than before? Wolfgang had just grown
+sensible, had seen that they had his welfare at heart, that he was his
+parents' dear son, their ever-increasing delight, their hope--nay, now
+that they had grown old, their whole future. How was it that he
+preferred to go to others, to people with whom he had nothing to do,
+and borrow from them instead of asking his father?
+
+The man took up a letter from his writing-desk with a
+grieved look, read it through once more, although he had already read
+it three or four times, and then laid it back again with a gesture of
+vexation. In it Braumüller, who had lately retired from the firm and
+was at present in Switzerland for his health and recreation, wrote that
+the boy had already borrowed money from him several times. Not that he
+would not gladly give him it, that did not matter to him in the
+slightest, but still he considered it his duty--&c., &c.
+
+"The fact is, dear Schlieben, the boy has got into a fast set. I'm
+awfully sorry to have to tell tales about him, but I cannot put it off
+any longer, as he goes to others just as well as he comes to me. And it
+would be extremely painful, of course, if the son of Messrs. Schlieben
+& Co., to whom I still count myself as belonging with the old devotion,
+should become common talk. Don't take it amiss, old friend. I make the
+boy a present of all he owes me; I am fond of him and have also been
+young. But I am quite pleased to have no children, it is a deucedly
+difficult job to train one. Good-bye, remember me very kindly to your
+wife, it is splendid here ..."
+
+The man stared over the top of the paper with a frown; this letter,
+which had been written with such good intentions and was so kind, hurt
+him. It hurt him that Wolfgang had so little confidence in him with
+respect to this matter. Was he not straightforward? He remembered very
+distinctly that he had always been truthful as a child, had been so
+outspoken as to offend--he had been rude, but never given to lying.
+Could he have changed so now? How was that, and why?
+
+The man resolved not to mention anything about the letter, but to
+ask Wolfgang when he found an opportunity--but it must be as soon as
+possible--in what condition his money matters were. Then he would
+hear.
+
+He quite longed to ask the question, and still he did not
+say a word when Wolfgang entered the private room soon afterwards
+without knocking, as all the others did, and with all the careless
+assurance of a son. He sat down astride on his father's writing-desk,
+quite unmindful of the fact that his light trousers came into
+unpleasant contact with the ink-stand. The air out of doors was clear
+and the sun shone brightly; he brought a large quantity of both with
+him into the room that was always kept dark, cool and secluded.
+
+"Had something to vex you, pater?" What fancies could the old
+gentleman have got hold of now? Certainly nothing of importance. On the
+whole, who could feel vexed in such delightful, pleasant summer
+weather?
+
+Wolfgang loved the sun. As he had gazed admiringly at the small copy
+of it when a child, the round yellow sunflower in his garden, so he
+still delighted in it. If the perspiration stood in drops on his brown
+skin, he would push his white panama hat a little further back from his
+forehead, but he never drew his breath more freely, easily, and felt
+less oppressed.
+
+"It was splendid, pater," he said, and his eyes gleamed. "First of
+all I swam the whole width of the lake three times, there and back and
+there and back and there and back again without stopping. What do you
+say to that?"
+
+"Much too tiring, very thoughtless," remarked Paul Schlieben, not
+without some anxiety. Indeed Hofmann was not at all anxious that the
+boy should swim.
+
+"Thoughtless? Fatiguing? Ha ha!" Wolfgang thought it great fun.
+"That's a mere trifle to me. I've really missed my vocation, you know.
+You ought not to have put me into an office. I ought to have been a
+swimmer, a rider or--well, a cowboy in the Wild West."
+
+He had said it in joke without meaning anything, but it seemed to
+the man, who suddenly looked at him with eyes that had grown
+suspicious, that something serious, an accusation, was concealed behind
+the joke. What did he want then? Did he want to gallop through life
+like an unrestrained boy?
+
+"Well, your sporting capacities will be of use to you when you are a
+soldier," he said coolly. "At present what you have to do here is of
+more importance. Have you drawn up the contract for delivery for White
+Brothers? Show it to me."
+
+"Directly."
+
+Wolfgang disappeared; but it was some time before he returned. Had
+he only done the work now, which he had been told was urgent and was to
+be done carefully? The ink was still quite fresh, the writing was very
+careless, even if legible; it was no business hand. Schlieben frowned;
+he was strangely irritable to-day. At any other time he would have been
+struck by the celerity with which the boy had finished the work he had
+neglected; but to-day the careless writing, the inkspots in the margin,
+the slipshod manner in which it had all been done, which seemed to him
+to point to a want of interest, vexed him.
+
+"Hm!" He examined it once more critically. "When did you do
+this?"
+
+"When you gave me it to do." The tone in which Wolfgang said this
+was so unabashed that it was impossible to doubt it.
+
+The man felt quite ashamed of himself. How a seed of suspicion
+grows! He had really wronged his son this time. But that question of
+the money still remained, the boy had not been open and honest in that.
+It seemed to the father that he could not quite rely on his son any
+more now.
+
+It was hardly noon when Wolfgang left the office again. He had
+arranged to meet a couple of acquaintances in the Imperial Café not far
+from the Linden; he would have to have something to eat, and
+whether he had his lunch there or somewhere else was of no consequence;
+a sandwich, which was all his father took with him from home, was not
+sufficient for him after swimming and riding.
+
+Then he showed himself again at the office for an hour in the
+afternoon, but in his tennis clothes this time, in white shoes, a
+racket in his hand.
+
+When Wolfgang left the West End tennis-ground that afternoon, hot
+and red--the games had been long and obstinate--and went across to the
+Zoological Gardens' Station, he hesitated as he stood at the entrance
+to it. He did not feel as if he wanted to go home at all. Should he not
+drive into town again instead? As a matter of fact he did not feel
+tempted to go into the streets either, which the drifting crowds made
+still closer; it was better in the suburbs, where there was at least a
+breath of fresh air blowing over the villa--but then he would have to
+sit with his parents. And if his father were in just as bad a humour as
+he had been at the office that morning, it would be awful. Then it
+would be better to find some friend or other in Berlin. If only he had
+not had his tennis suit on. That hindered him. He was still standing
+undecided when he suddenly saw in the crowd that now, when work was
+over and free-time come, was winding its way through the entrance to
+the station like a long worm and dividing itself into arms to go up the
+steps to the right and left, a mass of fair hair gleaming under a white
+sailor-hat trimmed with a blue velvet band and pressed down on a
+forehead, which seemed well-known to him. It was beautiful fair silky
+hair, smooth and shining; carelessly arranged in an enormous knot to
+all appearances, but in reality with much care. And now he recognised
+the blue eyes and the pert little nose under the straw hat. Frida
+Lämke! Oh, what a long time since he had seen her. He suddenly
+remembered the hundreds of times he had neglected them. How little he
+had troubled himself about those good people. That was very wrong of
+him. And all at once it seemed to him that he had missed them always,
+the whole time. He reached her side with one bound like an impetuous
+boy, not noticing that he trod on a dress here and that he gave
+somebody a shove in the side there.
+
+"Frida!"
+
+She gave a little start. Who had accosted her so boldly?
+
+"How do, Frida. How are you?"
+
+She did not recognise him at first, but then she blushed and pouted.
+What a gentleman Wolfgang had grown. And she answered a little pertly,
+a little affectedly: "Very well, thanks, Mr. Wolfgang. Are you quite
+well too?" and she threw her fair head back and laughed.
+
+He would not hear of her calling him "Mr. Wolfgang." "Nonsense, what
+are you thinking of?" And he was so cordial, so quite the Wolfgang of
+former years, that she was soon on the old terms with him again. She
+dropped her affectation entirely. They walked beside each other as
+intimately as if almost a year had not passed since last they had
+talked together.
+
+"Young lovers," thought many a one who came across them strolling
+along near the coppices in the Tiergarten. They had let their train
+go--he had no wish to hurry home, at any rate--and so they walked
+further and further in among the green trees, where it was already dark
+and where even his light tennis suit and her light blouse could not be
+distinguished any longer. The nightingales had grown silent long ago;
+all that was heard was a girl's soft laugh now and then, which sounded
+like the cooing of a dove, and the low whispers of invisible couples.
+Whispers came from the benches that stood in the dark, summer dresses
+rustled, burning cigars gleamed like glow-worms; all the seats
+one came across were occupied. It was extremely close in the park.
+
+Wolfgang and Frida spoke of Frau Lämke. "She's always ill, she has
+had to go to the doctor so often," said the girl, and her voice
+trembled with sincere grief. Wolfgang was very sorry.
+
+When Frida came home that evening extremely late--the house had been
+closed long before; Frau Lämke had already begun to get nervous, and
+did not know how she should keep the roast potatoes warm--she threw her
+arms round her mother's neck: "Mother, mummy, don't scold." And then it
+came out with a rush, that she had met Wolfgang: "Wolfgang Schlieben,
+you know. He was so nice, mother, you can't think how nice he was. Not
+the slightest bit stuck-up. And he asked at once how you were, and when
+I told him you had something the matter with your stomach and your
+nerves, he was so sorry. And he said: 'You must get your mother out in
+this beautiful weather,' and he gave me this bank-note--here, do you
+see it, a green one. I did not want to take it on any account, what
+would people think of it?--but he was so strong, he stuffed it into my
+hand. I could have screamed, he pulled my fingers apart so--are you
+angry, mother, that I took it? I didn't want to, I really didn't want
+to. But he said, 'It's for your mother.' And 'Do be sensible, Frida.'"
+Frida almost cried, she felt so touched and so grateful.
+
+Frau Lämke took it more calmly. "Perhaps I can go to Eberswald to
+my brother, or even to my sister in the Riesengebirge. And I'll give up
+the places where I clean for a few weeks, that will do me an enormous
+amount of good. The good boy, that was nice of him, that he thought of
+his old friend. Hm, he can do it too. What are fifty marks to people
+like him?"
+
+When Wolfgang had taken Frida to her door he had strolled on slowly,
+his racket under his arm, his hands in the pockets of his wide
+trousers. A sky, richly spangled with stars, extended over his head,
+innumerable golden eyes watching him with a kind twinkle. There were no
+more wheels to be heard, no crowds of pedestrians whirled up the dust
+of the street any longer. What the dust-carts, passing backwards and
+forwards during the day, had not been able to do, the night-dew had
+done. The loose sand had been settled, a cool freshness rose up out of
+the earth, one could smell the trees and bushes; a fragrance of flowers
+ascended from the beds in the gardens that the darkness had swallowed
+up. Wolfgang drew a deep breath of delight and whistled softly; his
+heart was full of peace and joy; now it was a good thing he was not
+wandering about in Berlin. It had been so nice with Frida. What a lot
+they had had to talk about--and then--he was really awfully pleased to
+be able to help Frau Lämke a little.
+
+He came home thoroughly happy.
+
+"The master and mistress have had their supper long ago," Friedrich
+took the liberty of remarking with a certain reproach--the young
+gentleman was really too unpunctual.
+
+"Well, can't be helped," said Wolfgang. "Tell the cook she's to
+prepare me something quickly, a cutlet or some beefsteak, or--what else
+was there for supper this evening? I'm ravenous."
+
+Friedrich looked at him quite taken aback. Now! at half past ten?
+The master or the mistress had never thought of asking for such a
+thing--a warm supper at half past ten? He stood hesitating.
+
+"Well, am I soon going to get something?" the young gentleman called
+to him over his shoulder, and went into the dining-room.
+
+His parents were still sitting at the table--both were reading--but
+the table was empty.
+
+"Good evening," said the boy, "is the table cleared already?" You
+could plainly hear the surprise in his voice.
+
+"So there you are!" His father nodded to him but did not look up; he
+seemed to be quite taken up with his reading. And his mother said: "Are
+you going to sit with us a little?"
+
+All at once the lad shivered. It had been so nice and warm outside,
+here it was cool.
+
+And then everything was quiet for a while, until Friedrich came in
+with a tray on which there was only a little cold meat, bread, butter
+and cheese beside the knife and fork. It struck Wolfgang how loudly he
+rattled the things; the housemaid generally waited. "Where's
+Marie?"
+
+"In bed," said his mother curtly.
+
+"Already?" Wolfgang wondered why to himself. Hark, the clock in his
+mother's room was just striking--eleven? Was it actually already eleven
+o'clock? They would really have to be quick and get him something to
+eat, he was dying for want of food. He fixed his eyes on the door
+through which Friedrich had disappeared. Was something soon coming?
+
+He waited.
+
+"Eat something." His mother pushed the dish with cold meat nearer to
+him.
+
+"Why don't you eat?" asked his father suddenly.
+
+"Oh, I am still waiting."
+
+"There's nothing more," said his mother, and her face, which looked
+so extremely weary like the face of one who has waited long in vain,
+flushed slightly.
+
+"Nothing else?--nothing more?--why?" The boy looked exceedingly
+disappointed. He glanced from his mother to the table, then to
+the sideboard and then round the room as though searching for
+something.
+
+"Haven't you had anything else to eat?"
+
+"Yes, we have had something else--but if you don't come--" His
+father knit his brows, and then he looked straight at his son for the
+first time that evening, surveying him with a grave glance. "You can't
+possibly expect to find a warm supper, when you come home so
+unpunctually."
+
+"But you--you are not obliged to"--the young man swallowed the
+rest--he would have much preferred it had his parents not sat there
+waiting for him; the servants would have done what was expected of
+them.
+
+"Perhaps you think the servants don't require their night's rest?"
+said his father, as though he had guessed his thought. "The maids, who
+have been in the kitchen the whole day, want to have done in the
+evening as well as other people. So you must come earlier if you want
+to have supper with us. Moreover, I don't suppose it will harm a young
+fellow to get nothing but a piece of bread and butter for his supper
+for once in a way. Besides, you who--" he was going to say "you who get
+such a good dinner"--but the young man's face, which expressed such
+immeasurable astonishment, irritated him, and he said in a loud and,
+contrary to his custom, angry voice, angrier than he had intended:
+"You--are you entitled to make such claims? How can you think of doing
+so, you especially?" A movement made by his wife, the rustling of her
+dress, reminded him of her presence, and he continued more temperately,
+but with a certain angry scorn: "Perhaps you do too much? Two hours at
+the office in the morning--hardly that--an hour in the afternoon--yes,
+that's an astonishing, an enormous amount of work, which must
+tax your powers greatly. Indeed, it requires quite special food. Well,
+what, what?"
+
+Wolfgang had been going to say something, but his father did not
+allow him to speak: "Let me see a more modest look on your face first,
+and then you may speak. Lad, I tell you, if you apply to Braumüller for
+money any more----!"
+
+There, there, it was out. In his wrath he had forgotten the
+diplomatic questions he had intended asking, and all he had meant to
+find out by listening to his replies. The man felt quite a relief now
+he could say: "It's an unheard-of thing! It's a disgrace for you--and
+for me!" The excited voice had calmed down, the last words were almost
+choked by a sigh. The man rested his arm on the table and his head in
+his hand; one could see that he took it much to heart.
+
+Käte sat silent and pale. Her eyes were distended with horror--so he
+had done that, that, borrowed money? That too? Not only that he got
+drunk, dead drunk but that, that too? It could not be possible--no! Her
+eyes sought Wolfgang's face imploringly. He must deny it.
+
+"Why, really, pater," said Wolfgang, trying to smile, "I don't know
+what's the matter with you. I asked your partner to do me a little
+favour--besides, he offered to do it himself, he has always been most
+friendly to me. I was just going to send it back to him"--he glanced
+sideways at his father: did he know how much it was?--"I'll send it to
+him to-morrow."
+
+"Oh, to-morrow." There was suspicion in the man's tone, but a
+certain relief nevertheless; he was so anxious to think the best of his
+son. "What other debts have you?" he asked. And then he was suddenly
+seized with the fear that the lad was deceiving him, and, terrified at
+the great responsibility he had taken on himself, he said in a
+voice that was harder than he really intended, much harder than was
+compatible with his feelings: "I would punish you as a good-for-nothing
+fellow if I heard you had! I would cast you off--then you could see how
+you got on. Disgraceful debts! To be in debt!"
+
+Käte gazed at her husband the whole time. She had never seen him
+like that before. She wanted to call out, to interrupt him: "You are
+too strict, much too strict. You'll prevent him confessing anything if
+you speak like that"--but she could not say a word. She was mute under
+the burden of the fears that overwhelmed her. Her eyes, full of a
+terrible anxiety, hung on the young face that had grown pale.
+
+Wolfgang's lips quivered; his thoughts were active. He wanted to
+speak, had already opened his mouth to do so, to confess that he had
+spent more than he had had. If only his father were not always so
+extremely proper. Good gracious, you cannot help pulling handfuls of
+money out of your pockets if you have got it to spend! But he did not
+say anything to these--these two about it. They were good people on the
+whole, but they could not put themselves into his place. Good people?
+No, they were not.
+
+And now came his indignation. What possessed his father to treat him
+in that manner, to scold him in that tone of voice? Like a criminal.
+And she, why did she stare at him in that way with eyes in which he
+thought he read something that looked like contempt? Well, then, he
+would horrify them still more, hurl into their faces: "Of course I have
+debts, what does that matter?" But in the midst of his anger came the
+cool calculation: what had his father said: "I would cast you off"?
+
+All at once Wolfgang got a great fright. He had need of
+these people, he could not do without them. And so he pulled himself
+together quickly: he must not confess anything, by any means, he must
+be sure not to betray himself. And he said, in a quick transition from
+defiant passion to smooth calmness: "I don't know why you excite
+yourself so, pater. I have none."
+
+"Really none?" His father looked at him gravely and inquiringly, but
+a glad hope shone already through the gravity.
+
+And when his son answered "No," he stretched out his hand to him
+across the table: "I'm pleased to hear it."
+
+They were very nice to him that evening. Wolfgang felt it with much
+satisfaction. Well, they owed him an apology, too. He allowed them to
+make much of him.
+
+The father felt glad, quite relieved that nothing else, nothing
+worse had come to light, and the mother had the feeling for the first
+time for many weeks that it was possible to love the lad again. Her
+voice had something of the old sound once more when she spoke to him.
+And she spoke a good deal to him, she felt the need to do so. She had
+not spoken so much to him during all those weeks. She felt as if a
+spring within her had been bricked up and had to discharge itself now.
+He had contracted no debts. Thank God, he was not quite so bad then!
+Now she was sorry she had sent the maids to bed, because she had been
+annoyed with him for coming home so late--for his loafing about, as she
+had called it in her thoughts--and had no proper supper for him. If she
+had not been afraid of her husband, she would have gone down into the
+kitchen and tried to prepare something better for him herself.
+
+"Have you really had enough?" she said to him in a low voice.
+
+"Oh, it'll do." He felt his superiority.
+
+Paul Schlieben put his paper aside that evening. When his son asked
+him politely if he would not read, he shook his head: "No, I've read
+the whole evening." He, too, felt the need of, nay, felt it his duty to
+have, a friendly talk to his son, even if he found that Käte was going
+too far, as usual. She really need not make such a fuss of the boy, he
+had done wrong hi any case; the Braumüller matter must not be
+forgotten, he ought to have come openly--but really, after all, it was
+only a stupidity, a thing that might happen ninety times out of every
+hundred.
+
+The man resolved to raise his monthly allowance by 100 marks, when
+he paid him on the first of the month. Then he would certainly have
+ample, and there could be no more talk of not being able to make both
+ends meet and of secrecy.
+
+It was already far past midnight when the parents and son at last
+parted. Käte stretched herself in her bed with a feeling of happiness
+she had not known for a long time: she would soon fall asleep; she
+would not have to lie so long waiting for sleep to come to her, she
+felt so relieved, so reassured, so soothed. Things were working better
+now, everything would still be right at last. And she whispered softly
+to her husband: "Paul!" He did not hear her, he was already half
+asleep. Then she whispered more urgently: "Paul, Paul!" And when he
+moved she said softly: "Paul, are you angry with me?"
+
+"Angry? Why should I be?"
+
+"Oh, I only thought you might be." She did not want to give any
+explanation, besides it was hardly necessary, for she had the
+impression that he, too, felt that they themselves would be on better,
+pleasanter, more cordial and more united terms with each other
+in the future. Oh yes, if they were on better terms with him--the
+boy--then he and she would also be on better terms with each other.
+
+The elderly woman was seized with a great longing for the days when
+they loved each other. She felt ashamed of herself, but she could not
+help it, she stretched out her hand to the bed that stood next to hers:
+"Give me your hand, Paul."
+
+And as she groped about in the dark, she found his hand that was
+searching for hers. They clasped hands.
+
+"Good night, dear husband."
+
+"Good night, dear wife."
+
+They fell asleep thus.
+
+Wolfgang stood at the window of his room, looking out into the
+obscurity that hid all the stars and listening to the roar of the
+distant wind. Was the night so sultry, or was it only he who was so
+unbearably hot? A thunder-storm seemed to be coming on. Or was it only
+an inward restlessness that weighed him down? What was it that tortured
+him?
+
+He thought he had hardly ever felt so uncomfortable before. He was
+vexed with his father, vexed with his mother--if they had been
+different from what they were, if everything had been different from
+what it was, he would not have been obliged to tell lies, to dissemble.
+He was vexed with himself. Oh, then he would have felt easier now, much
+freer. He knit his brows angrily; a sudden longing for something he
+could not name made him tremble. What did he want, what was he longing
+for? If he only knew!
+
+He gave a loud sigh, and stretched his arms with the strong hands
+out into the night. Everything was so narrow, so narrow. If he only
+were the boy again who had once climbed out of this window, yes, this
+window--he leant out and measured the height--who had run
+away, hurrah! without asking himself where he was going, simply on and
+on. That had been magnificent! A splendid run!
+
+And he leant further and further out of the window. The night wind
+was whispering, it was like an alluring melody. He trembled with
+eagerness. He could not tear himself away, he had to remain there
+listening. The wind was rising, there was a rustling in the trees, it
+rose and rose, grew and grew. The rustling turned into a
+blustering.
+
+He forgot he was in a room in a house, and that he had parents there
+who wanted to sleep. He gave a shout, a loud cry, half of triumph. How
+beautiful it was out there, ah!
+
+A storm. The snorting wind, that had risen so suddenly, blew his
+hair about and ruffled it at the temples. Ah, how beautifully that
+cooled. It was unbearable in the house, so gloomy, so close. He felt so
+scared, so terrified. How his heart thumped. And he felt so out of
+temper: how unpleasant it had been that evening again. His father had
+said he ought to have confessed it to him--of course, it would have
+been better--but if he threatened him in that way after the thing was
+over in a manner, what would he have said before? This everlasting
+keeping him in leading strings was not to be borne. Was he still a
+child? Was he a grown-up man or was he not? Was he the son of rich
+parents or was he not? No, he was not. That was just what he was
+not.
+
+The thunder rumbled afar in the dark night. Suddenly there was a
+brilliant flash--that was just what he was not, not the son, not the
+son of this house. Otherwise everything would have been different. He
+did not know in what way--but different, oh, quite different.
+
+Wolfgang had not thought of these things for a long
+time--the days were so full of distractions but now in this dark stormy
+night, in which he would not be able to sleep, he had to think. What he
+had always driven back because it was not pleasant, what he thought he
+had quite forgotten--perhaps because he wished to forget it--he would
+have to consider now. What had been repressed for so long broke out
+forcibly now, like the stormy wind that suddenly came rushing along,
+bending the tops of the pines so that they cowered with terror.
+Wolfgang would have liked to have made his voice heard above the roar
+of the storm.
+
+He was furious, quite absurdly furious, quite thoughtlessly furious.
+Oh, how it lightened, crashed, rumbled, roared and snorted. What a
+conflict--but it was beautiful nevertheless. He raised himself up on
+his toes and exposed his hammering breast to the strong wind. He had
+hardly ever felt such delight as when those gusts of wind struck his
+chest like blows from a fist. He flung himself against them, he
+regularly caught them on his broad chest.
+
+And still there was torture mingled with the delight. Face to face
+with this great storm, that became an event in his life as it were,
+everything else seemed so pitifully small to him, and he too. There he
+stood now in coat and trousers, his hands in his pockets, rattling his
+loose money; he was annoyed because he had let them lecture him, and
+still he had not the courage to throw everything aside and do exactly
+as he liked.
+
+The lad followed the yellow and blue flashes of lightning that clove
+the dark stormy sky in zigzag, and poured a dazzling magic light over
+the world, with sparkling eyes. Oh, to be able to rush along like that
+flash of lightning. It rushed out of the clouds down to the earth, tore
+her lap open and buried itself in it.
+
+His young blood, whose unused vitality quivered in his
+clenched fists, his energy, which had not been spent on any work,
+groaned aloud. All at once Wolfgang cursed his life. Oh, he ought to be
+somewhere quite different, live at quite a different place, quite
+different.
+
+And even if he were not so comfortable there, let him only get away
+from this place, away. It bored him so terribly to be here. He loathed
+it. He drew a deep breath, oh, if only he had some work he would like
+to do! That would tire him out, so that he had no other desire but to
+eat and then sleep. Better to be a day labourer than one who sits
+perched on a stool in an office and sees figures, nothing but figures
+and accounts and ledgers and cash-books--oh, only not let him be a
+merchant, no, that was the very worst of all.
+
+Hitherto Wolfgang had never been conscious of the fact that he would
+never be any good as a merchant; now he knew it. No, he did not like
+it, he could not go on being a merchant. Everyone must surely become
+what nature has meant him to be.
+
+He would say it in the morning--no, he would not go to the office
+any more, he would not do it any longer. He would be free. He leant out
+of the window once more, and scented the damp, pleasant smell that rose
+up out of the soaked earth with distended nostrils, panting greedily
+like a thirsty stag.
+
+The rain had come after the thunder and lightning, and had saturated
+the thirsty earth and penetrated into it, filling all its pores with
+fertility. It rained and rained uninterruptedly, came down in torrents
+as if it would never end.
+
+Something gave way in Wolfgang's soul; it became soft.
+
+"Mother," he whispered dreamily, stretching out his hot hands so
+that the cool rain bathed them. Then he stretched his head far out too,
+closed his eyes and raised his head, so that the falling drops
+refreshed his burning lids and the wide-open, thirsty lips
+drank the tears of heaven as though they were costly wine.
+
+           *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
+
+But in the morning, when the sand in the Grunewald had swallowed up
+all the rain, and nothing was left of the storm that had cleared the
+air during the night but the somewhat fresher green of the lawns, a
+stronger smell of the pines and many fallen acorns and chestnuts on the
+promenade, Wolfgang thought differently again. The day was beautiful;
+he could swim, ride, go to the office for a short time, eat, drink,
+play tennis, make an appointment for the evening--there were so many
+places where you could amuse yourself--and why should he spoil this
+splendid day for himself and, after all, his father too? He thrust
+every graver thought aside as burdensome. But his soul was not at peace
+all the same. He tried to deaden thought.
+
+Käte did not fall asleep so quickly as on the previous night; even
+if she had promised herself not to sit up and wait for him any more,
+she could not sleep if he were not at home. She heard the clocks strike
+terribly loudly, as she had done on a former occasion; every noise,
+even the slightest, penetrated to her ear through the stillness of the
+house, sounding much louder. She would hear him, she must hear him as
+soon as he stuck the key into the front door.
+
+But she heard nothing, although she lay long awake listening. The
+hours crept on, the day dawned, a pale streak of light no broader than
+her thumb stole through the closed shutters; she saw it on the wall
+opposite to her bed. The light became gradually less and less wan, more
+decided in colour, a warm, sunny, ruddy gold. No cock proclaimed the
+new day with triumphant crow, the house was so quiet, the garden so
+silent, but the light betrayed that it was morning.
+
+She must have slept, however, without knowing it. What, was it
+already morning? She was sure now that he must have been at home a long
+time, she had simply not heard him come in. That calmed her. But she
+dressed hurriedly, without paying as much attention to her dress as
+usual, and she could not resist standing outside his door to listen
+before going down to breakfast. He was not up yet--of course not, he
+had come home so late--he was still asleep. She would be able to look
+at him without his knowing. She went in, but he was not asleep.
+
+The woman looked at the bed with bewildered eyes--there it was,
+open, invitingly white and comfortable, but he was not in it. The bed
+had not been touched. The room was empty.
+
+Then her heart grew cold with dread. So she had not slept, his
+return had not escaped her. On that former occasion he had come
+home--true, he was drunk, but still he had come home--but not this
+time!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+"Wolfgang not here again?" said Paul Schlieben as he joined his wife in
+her room. "He comes so little to the office too. They always assure me
+that he has just been--but why doesn't he keep the same office-hours as
+I? Where is he?" He looked inquiringly and impatiently at his wife.
+
+She shrugged her shoulders, and the evening sun, which was casting a
+last gleam through the tall window as it set, touched her cheek with
+red for a moment. "I don't know," she said in a low voice. And then she
+looked so lost as she gazed out into the autumn evening, that her
+husband felt that her thoughts were far away, looking for something
+outside.
+
+"I've just come from town, Käte," he said somewhat annoyed, and the
+vexation he felt at his son's absence gave his voice a certain
+sharpness, "and I'm hungry and tired. It's already eight o'clock--we'll
+have our supper. And you've not even a friendly face to show me?"
+
+She got up quickly to ring for supper, and tried to smile. But it
+was no real smile.
+
+He saw it, and that put him still more out of humour. "Never mind,
+don't try. Don't force yourself to smile." He sat down at the table
+with a weary movement. But his hunger did not seem to be so great,
+after all, as he only helped himself in a spiritless manner
+when the steaming dishes were brought in and placed in front of him,
+and ate in the same manner without knowing what he was eating.
+
+The dining-room was much too large for the two lonely people; the
+handsome room looked uncomfortably empty on that cool evening in
+autumn. The woman shivered with cold.
+
+"We shall have to start heating the house," said the man.
+
+That was all that was said during the meal. After it was over he got
+up to go across to his study. He wanted to smoke there, the room was
+smaller and cosier; he did not notice that his wife's eyes had never
+left him.
+
+If Paul would only tell her what he thought of Wolfgang staying
+away! Where could Wolfgang be now? She became entirely absorbed in her
+wandering thoughts, and hardly noticed that she was alone in the cold
+empty room.
+
+She had a book in front of her, a book the whole world found
+interesting--an acquaintance had said to her: "I could not stop reading
+it; I had so much to think about, but I forgot everything owing to the
+book"--but it did not make her forget anything. She felt as though she
+were in great trouble, and that that was making her dull. Even duller,
+more indifferent to outward things than at the time of her father's and
+mother's deaths. She had read so much in those years of mourning, and
+with special interest, as though the old poems had been given to her
+anew and the new ones were a cheering revelation. She could not read
+anything now, could not follow another's thoughts. She clung to her own
+thoughts. True, her eyes flew over the page, but when she got to the
+bottom she did not know what she had read. It was an intolerable
+condition. Oh, owh much she would have liked to have taken an
+interest in something. What would she not have given only to be able to
+laugh heartily for once; she had never experienced a similar longing
+for cheerfulness, gaiety and humour before. Oh, what a relief it would
+have been for her if she could have laughed and cried. Now she could
+not laugh, but--alas!--not cry either, and that was the worst: her eyes
+remained dry. But the tears of sorrow she had not wept burnt her heart
+and wore out her life with their unshed salty moisture.
+
+No, death was not the most terrible that could happen. There were
+more terrible things than that. It was terrible when one had to say to
+oneself: "You have brought all your suffering on yourself. Why were
+you not satisfied? Why must you take by force what nature had refused?"
+It was more terrible when one felt how one's domestic happiness, one's
+married happiness, love, faith, unity, how all that intimately unites
+two people was beginning to totter--for did she not feel every day how
+her husband was getting colder and colder, and that she also treated
+him with more indifference? Oh, the son, that third person, it was he
+who parted them. How miserably all her theories about training,
+influence, about being born in the spirit had been overthrown. Wolfgang
+was not the child in which she and her husband were united in body and
+soul--he was and would remain of alien blood. And he had an alien soul.
+Poor son!
+
+All at once a discerning compassion shot up in the heart of the
+woman, who for days, weeks, months, even years, had felt nothing but
+bitterness and mortification, ay, many a time even something like
+revolt against the one who thus disturbed her days. How could she be so
+very angry with him, who was not bound to his parents' house by a
+hundred ties? It was not _his_ parents' house, that was just
+the point. Maybe he unconsciously felt that the soil there was not his
+native soil--and now he was seeking, wandering.
+
+Käte pondered, her head resting heavily in her hand: what was she to
+do first? Should she confess to him where he came from? Tell him
+everything? Perhaps things would be better then. But oh, it was so
+difficult. But it must be done. She must not remain silent any longer.
+She felt her trembling heart grow stronger, as she made the firm
+resolve to speak to him when he returned home. What she had kept as the
+greatest secret, what she had guarded with trembling, what nothing
+could have torn from her, as she thought, she was now prepared to
+reveal of her own free will. She must do so. Otherwise how could things
+ever be better? How could they ever end happily, or ever end at
+all?
+
+Her eyes wandered about seeking something fervently; there was a
+terrified expression in them. But there was no other way out. Käte
+Schlieben prepared herself for the confession with a resoluteness that
+she would not have been capable of a year ago. For one moment the wish
+came to her to call Paul to help her. But she rejected the thought
+quickly--had he ever loved Wolfgang as she had done? Perhaps it would
+be a matter of no moment to him--no, perhaps it would be a triumph to
+him, he had always been of a different opinion to her. And then another
+thing. He might perhaps forestall her, tell Wolfgang himself, and he
+must not do that. She, she alone must do that, with all the love of
+which she was still capable, so that it might be told him in a
+forbearing, merciful and tender manner.
+
+She ran hastily across to her sitting-room. She kept the certificate
+of his baptism and the deed of surrender they had got from his native
+village in her writing-desk there; she had not even trusted
+the papers to her husband. Now she brought them out and put them ready.
+She would have to show him that everything was as she said.
+
+The papers rustled in her trembling hands, but she repressed her
+agitation. She must be calm, quite calm and sensible; she must throw
+down the castle in the air she had built for herself and that had not
+turned out as in her dreams, knowing fully what she was doing. But even
+if this castle in the air collapsed, could not something be saved from
+the ruins? Something good rise from them? He would be grateful to her,
+he must be grateful to her. And that was the good that would rise.
+
+She folded her hands over the common paper on which the evidence was
+written, and quivering sighs escaped from her breast that were like
+prayers. O God, help me! O God, help me!
+
+But if he did not understand her property, if she did not find the
+words that must be found? If she should lose him thereby? She was
+overcome with terror, she turned pale, and stretched out her hands
+gropingly like one who requires a support. But she remained erect. Then
+rather lose him than that he should be lost.
+
+For--and tears such as she had not been able to weep for a long,
+long time, dropped from her eyes and relieved her--she still loved him,
+after all, loved him more than she had considered possible.
+
+So she waited for him. And even if she had to wait until dawn and if
+he came home drunk again--more drunk than the first time--she would
+still wait for him. She must tell him that day. She was burning to tell
+him.
+
+Paul Schlieben had gone to bed long ago. He was vexed with his wife,
+had only stuck his head into the room and given a little nod: "Good
+night," and gone upstairs. But she walked up and down the room
+downstairs with slow steps. That tired her physically, but gave her
+mind rest and thereby strength.
+
+When she went to meet Wolfgang in the hall on hearing him close the
+door, her delicate figure looked as though it had grown, it was so
+straight and erect. The house slept with all in it, only he and she
+were still awake. They were never so alone, so undisturbed nowadays.
+The time had come.
+
+And she held out her hand to him, which she would not have done
+on any other occasion had he come so late--thank God, he was not
+drunk!--and approached her face to his and kissed him on the cheek:
+"Good evening, my son."
+
+He was no doubt somewhat taken aback at this reception, but his
+sunken eyes with the black lines under them looked past her
+indifferently.
+
+He was terribly tired--one could see--or was he ill? But all that
+would soon be better now. Käte seized hold of his hand once more full
+of the joyful hope that had been awakened in her, and drew him after
+her into her room.
+
+He allowed himself to be drawn without resisting, he only asked with
+a yawn: "What's the matter?"
+
+"I must tell you something." And then quickly, as though he
+might escape her or she might lose courage, she added: "Something
+important--that concerns you your that concerns your--your birth."
+
+What would he say--she had stopped involuntarily--what would he say
+now? The secret of his birth for which he had fought full of longing,
+fought strenuously--oh, what scenes those had been!--would now be
+revealed to him.
+
+She leant towards him involuntarily, ready to support him.
+
+Then he yawned again: "Must it really be now, mater? There's plenty
+of time to-morrow. The fact is, I am dead beat. Good night." And he
+wheeled round, leaving her where she was, and went out of the room and
+up the stairs to his bedroom.
+
+She stood there quite rigid. Then she put her hand up to her head:
+what, what was it? She must not have understood him properly, she must
+be deaf, blind or beside herself. Or he must be deaf, blind or beside
+himself. She had gone up to him with her heart in her mouth, she had
+held out her hand, she had wanted to speak to him about his birth--and
+he? He had yawned--had gone away, it evidently did not interest him in
+the slightest. And here, here, in this very room--it was not yet four
+years ago--he had stood almost on the same spot in the black clothes he
+had worn at his confirmation--almost as tall as he was now, only with a
+rounder, more childish face--and had screamed aloud: "Mother, mother,
+where is my mother?" And now he no longer wanted to know anything?
+
+It was impossible, she could not have understood him aright or he
+not her. She must follow him, at once, without delay. It seemed to her
+that she must not neglect a moment.
+
+She hurried noiselessly up the stairs in her grey dress. She saw her
+shadow gliding along in the dull light the electric bulb cast on the
+staircase-wall, but she smiled: no, she was not sorrow personified
+gliding along like a ghost any longer. Her heart was filled with
+nothing but joy, hope and confidence, for she was bringing him
+something good, nothing but good.
+
+She went into his room without knocking, in great haste and without
+reflecting on what she was doing. He was already in bed, he was just
+going to put out the light. She sat down on the edge of his bed.
+
+"Wolfgang," she said gently. And as he gazed at her in surprise with
+a look that was almost unfriendly, her voice sounded still softer: "My
+son."
+
+"Yes--what's the matter now?"
+
+He was really annoyed, she noticed it in the impatient tone of his
+voice, and then she suddenly lost courage. Oh, if he looked at her like
+that, so coldly, and if his voice sounded so repellent, how difficult
+it was to find the right word. But it must be done, he looked so pale
+and was so thin, his round face had positively become long. What had
+struck her before struck her with double force now, and she got a great
+fright. "Wolfgang," she said hastily, avoiding his glance almost with
+fear--oh, how he would accuse her, how reproachful he would be, and
+justifiably reproachful--"I must tell you at last--it's better--it
+won't surprise you much either. Do you still remember that Sunday it
+was the day of your confirmation--you--you asked us then----"
+
+Oh, what along introduction it was. She called herself a coward; but
+it was so difficult, so unspeakably difficult.
+
+He did not interrupt her with a single sound, he asked no questions,
+he did not sigh, he did not even move.
+
+She did not venture to turn her eyes, which were fixed on one point
+straight in front of her, to look at him. His silence was terrible,
+more terrible than his passion. And she called out with the courage of
+despair: "You are not our son, not our own son."
+
+He still did not say anything; did not make a single sound, did not
+move. Then she turned her eyes on him. And she saw how the lids fell
+over his tired, already glassy eyes, how he tore them open again with
+difficulty and how they closed once more, in short, how he fought with
+sleep.
+
+He could sleep whilst she told him this--this? A terrible feeling of
+disillusion came over her, but still she seized hold of his
+arm and shook him, whilst her own limbs trembled as though with fever:
+"Don't you hear--don't you hear me? You are not our son--not our own
+son."
+
+"Yes, I know," he said in a weary voice. "Leave me, leave me." He
+made a gesture as if to thrust her away.
+
+"And it--" her complete want of comprehension made her stammer like
+a child--"it does not affect you? It--it leaves you so cold?"
+
+"Cold? Cold?" He shrugged his shoulders, and his tired, dull eyes
+began to gleam a little. "Cold? Who says it leaves me cold--has left me
+cold?" he amended hastily. "But you two have not asked about that. Now
+_I_ won't hear anything more about it. I'm tired now. I want to sleep."
+He turned his back on her, turned his face to the wall and did not move
+any more.
+
+There she stood--he was already asleep, or at least seemed to be so.
+She waited anxiously a few minutes longer--would he, would he not have
+to turn once more to her and say: "Tell me, I'm listening now." But he
+did not turn.
+
+Then she crept out of the room like a condemned criminal. Too late,
+too late. She had spoken too late, and now he did not want to hear
+anything more about it, nothing more whatever.
+
+In her dull wretchedness the words "too late" hurt her soul as if
+they had been branded on it.
+
+           *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
+
+Käte had no longer the courage to revert again to what she had
+wanted to confess to Wolfgang that night. Besides, what was the good?
+She had the vivid feeling that there was no getting at him any more,
+that he could not be helped any more. But she felt weighed down as
+though she had committed a terrible crime. And the feeling of this
+great crime made her gentler towards him than she would
+otherwise have been; she felt called upon to make excuses for his
+actions both to herself and her husband.
+
+Paul Schlieben was very dissatisfied with Wolfgang. "If only I
+knew where he's always wandering about. I suppose he's at home at
+night--eh?"
+
+An involuntary sound from his wife had interrupted him, now he
+looked at her inquiringly. But she did not change countenance in the
+slightest, she only gave an affirmative nod. So the husband relied upon
+his wife.
+
+And now the last days of autumn had come, which are often so warm
+and beautiful, more beautiful than summer. Everybody streamed out into
+the Grunewald, to bathe themselves once more in the sun and air ere
+winter set in. The people came in crowds to Hundekehle and Paulsborn,
+to Uncle Tom and the Old Fisherman's Hut as though it were Sunday every
+day. There was laughter everywhere, often music too, and young girls in
+light dresses, in last summer's dresses that were not yet quite worn
+out. Children made less noise in the woods now than in summer; it grew
+dark too early now, but there were all the more couples wandering
+about, whom the early but still warm dusk gave an excellent opportunity
+to exchange caresses, and old people, who wanted to enjoy the sun once
+more ere the night perhaps came that is followed by no morning.
+
+Formerly Paul Schlieben had always detested leaving his house and
+garden on such days, when the Grunewald was overrun with people. He had
+always disliked swallowing the dust the crowd raised. But now he was
+broader-minded. Why should the people, who were shut up in cramped
+rooms on all the other days, not be out there too for once in a way,
+and inhale the smell of the pines for some hours, at any rate, which
+they, the privileged ones, enjoyed every day. It did one good
+to see how happy people could be.
+
+He ordered a carriage, a comfortable landau, both to give himself a
+pleasure and also to distract his wife, who seemed to him to be graver
+and more lost in thought than ever, and went for a drive with her. They
+drove along the well-known roads through the Grunewald, and also got
+out now and then when the carriage forced its way more slowly through
+the sand, and walked beside it for a bit along the foot-path, which the
+fallen pine-needles had made smooth and firm.
+
+They came to Schildhorn. The red glow of evening lay across the
+water; the sun could no longer be seen in all its splendour, a dusky,
+melancholy peace lay over the Havel and the pines. Käte had never
+thought the wood was so large. All at once she shivered: ah, the
+cemetery where they buried the suicides lay over there. She did
+not like to look in that direction, she pressed her eyes together
+nervously. All at once a young lad moved across her mental
+vision--young and fresh and yet ruined already--many a mother's son.
+
+She shuddered and wanted to hurry past, and still something drew her
+feet irresistibly to the spot in the loose sand that had been enclosed.
+She could not help it, she had to stop. Her eyes rested thoughtfully on
+the ugly, uncared-for graves: had those who rested there found peace? A
+couple of branches covered with leaves and a few flowers that she had
+plucked on the way fell out of her hand. The evening wind blew them on
+to the nearest grave; she let them lie there. Her heart felt extremely
+sad.
+
+"Käte, do come," Paul called. "The carriage has been waiting for us
+quite a long time."
+
+She felt very depressed. Fears and suspicions, that she could
+not speak of to anybody, crowded upon her. Wolfgang was
+unsteady--but was he bad? No, not bad--not yet. O God, no, she would
+not think that! Not bad! But what would happen? How would it end?
+Things could never be right again--how could they? A miracle would have
+to happen then, and miracles do not happen nowadays.
+
+A gay laugh made her start. All the tables were occupied in the
+restaurant garden; there were so many young people there and so much
+light-heartedness, and so many lovers. They had got into their carriage
+again and were now driving slowly past the garden, so they saw all the
+light-coloured blouses and the gaily trimmed hats, all the finery of
+the lower middle-class.
+
+Hark, there was that gay laugh again. A girl's loud laugh, a real
+hearty one, and now: "Aha, catch her, catch her!" on hearing which Käte
+held her breath as though frozen. She felt quite weak, all the blood
+left her heart. That was Wolfgang! Her Wolfgang!
+
+Then he bounded after a girl who, with a cry of delight, flew across
+the road in front of him and into the wood on the other side among the
+tree-trunks. He rushed after her. For a moment the girl's light dress
+and Wolfgang's flying shadow were seen whisking round the pines, and
+then nothing more. But he must have reached her, for her shrill scream
+and his laugh were heard; both drove the blood into Käte's cheeks. It
+sounded so offensive to her, so vulgar. So he had got so far? He
+wandered about there with such, such--persons? Ah, a couple of others
+were following them, they belonged to the party, too. A hulking fellow
+with a very hot and red face and chubby cheeks followed the couple that
+had disappeared noisily shouting hallo, and the slender rascal who came
+last laughed so knowingly and slyly.
+
+"Paul, Paul!" Käte wanted to call out, "Paul, just look, look!" But
+then she did not call, and did not move. There was nothing
+more to be done. She leant back in her corner of the carriage quite
+silent: she had wanted the boy, she must not complain. Oh, if only she
+had left him where he was. Now she must be silent, close both her eyes
+firmly and pretend she had not seen anything.
+
+But everything was spoilt for her. And when her husband pointed out
+the moon swimming in the light grey ether in an opening between the
+tops of two pines, and the bright, quietly gleaming star to the right
+of it, she had only an indifferent "Oh yes," in answer to his
+delighted: "Isn't that beautiful?"
+
+That depressed him. She had taken such pleasure in nature formerly,
+the greatest, purest pleasure--now she no longer did so. Was that over
+too? Everything was over. He sighed.
+
+And both remained silent, each leaning in a corner of the carriage.
+They gazed into the twilight that was growing deeper and deeper with
+sad eyes. Evening was coming on, the day--their day too--was over.
+
+           *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
+
+Wolfgang had gone on an excursion into the country, with Frida
+Lämke, her brother, and Hans Flebbe, which had been planned a long
+time. Frida was not going back to business that afternoon; she had
+succeeded in getting away as an exception, and because she pleaded an
+extremely urgent reason for her absence. And now she was almost beside
+herself with glee: oh, how splendid it was, oh, what a fine time they
+would have. Wolfgang had gone to the expense of taking a cab; he and
+Frida sat on the front seat, the two others opposite them on the back
+seat, and they had driven round the green, green wood, had paid a visit
+to this and that place of amusement, had gone on a roundabout and in
+a boat and into the booth where they were playing with dice. Wolfgang
+was very polite, Frida always got leave to throw them again and
+again; a butter dish of blue glass, a glazed paper-bag full of
+gingerbread nuts, but above all a little dicky-bird in a tiny wooden
+cage made her extremely happy. Hans was allowed to carry it all, whilst
+she and Wolfgang rushed along on the walk home from Schildhorn,
+chaffing each other. Her sweetheart did not disturb them. Hans had
+foregone the pleasure of having his Frida on his arm from the
+commencement; everybody might easily have thought the well-dressed
+young gentleman was her lover. But when she lost her breath entirely
+and was red and dishevelled, and the dusk, which came on somewhat
+earlier in the wood among the trees that stood so close together, made
+her shudder a little and filled her with a delicious fear, she hung on
+her Hans's arm as a matter of course. They remained a little behind the
+others.
+
+Then Wolfgang was alone, for he did not count Artur, although he
+walked beside him stumbling over the roots and whistling shrilly. And
+Wolfgang envied fat Hans at whom they had all laughed so much, the girl
+he was engaged to more than anyone else. He also wanted to have a girl
+hanging on his arm. It need not even be such a nice-looking girl as
+Frida--as long as it was a girl. The dusk of the wood, which was so
+nice and quiet, seemed positively to hold out inviting arms to him. And
+a smell of satiation, an abundant fulfilment, rose out of the earth
+that evening, although it was so poor--nothing but sand. Wolfgang felt
+a wish to live and love, an eager desire for pleasure and enjoyment. If
+he had had Frida near him now, he would have seized hold of her, have
+clasped her in his arms, have quickly closed her mouth with kisses and
+not let her go again.
+
+He could not contain himself any longer, he had to seize hold of
+Artur, at any rate, and waltz with him along the sandy path
+through the wood, so that the lanky youth, who had already run to so
+many customers to shave them that day, could neither see nor hear. All
+the other people stopped; such sights were nothing new to them on
+excursions, not to speak of worse. It amused them, and, when Wolfgang
+lifted his partner high up into the air with a loud shout of triumph
+and swung him several times round his head, they clapped their
+hands.
+
+Wolfgang was very much out of breath by this time. When they got out
+of the wood they had to proceed more slowly; they might have trodden
+some of the people to death in the more inhabited parts, for the fine
+villas were already commencing. What a crowd! People were pushing and
+squeezing each other at the place where the electric cars started.
+Wolfgang and Artur posted themselves there too: what a joke it was to
+see how the people who wanted to go by them elbowed each other. It was
+still pretty light and as warm as summer, but it would soon be quite
+dark, and the later it was the larger the crowd would be. The two stood
+there laughing, looking quietly on at the throng. What did it matter to
+them if they did not get a seat? They could run that short bit to their
+homes.
+
+Wolfgang felt how his heart thumped against his side--it had been
+great fun to dance with Frida. He had swung her round several times in
+the booth adjoining a restaurant, in which a man sat strumming on a
+piano, and had done the same to a couple of other girls, who had looked
+longingly at the boisterous dancer. What a pleasure it had been. He
+still felt the effects of it, his chest rose and fell tumultuously--oh,
+what a pleasure it was to swing a girl round in his arm like that.
+Wonderful! Everything was wonderful.
+
+Wolfgang trembled inwardly with untamed animal spirits, and
+clenched his teeth so as not to draw people's attention to him by means
+of a loud, triumphant shout. Oh, how splendid it would be, oh, how he
+would love to do something foolish now. He thought it over: what on
+earth could he do?
+
+At that moment a cough disturbed him. How hollow it sounded--as if
+everything inside were loose. The young fellow who was standing behind
+his broad back might have been coughing like that for some time--only
+he had not noticed it; now he felt disgusted at his spitting. He
+stepped aside involuntarily: faugh, how the man coughed!
+
+"Oh, how wretched it is that there isn't a cab to be had!" Wolfgang
+now heard the older man say, on whose arm the young fellow who was
+coughing was leaning. "Are you quite knocked up? Can you still stand
+it?" There was such an anxiety expressed in that: "Can you still stand
+it?"
+
+"Oh, pretty well," the young fellow answered in a hoarse voice.
+Wolfgang pricked up his ears: he surely knew that voice? And now he
+also recognised the face. Wasn't that Kullrich? Good gracious, how he
+had changed. He raised his hat involuntarily: "Good evening,
+Kullrich."
+
+And now the latter also recognised him. "Schlieben!" Kullrich
+smiled, so that all his teeth, which were long and white, could be seen
+behind his bloodless lips. And then he held out his hand to his former
+schoolfellow: "You aren't at school either? I've left as well. It's a
+long time since we've seen each other."
+
+The hand Wolfgang held had a disagreeable, moist, cold feeling, and
+a shudder passed through him. He had forgotten long ago that he had
+once heard that Kullrich had consumption; all at once he remembered it
+again. But that was quite impossible, surely you could not die
+so young? Everything in him strove against the conviction.
+
+"Have you been ill?" he asked quickly. "But now you're all right
+again, aren't you?" It was quite difficult for him to remember that he
+was speaking to his old schoolfellow; this Kullrich was quite a
+stranger to him.
+
+"Oh yes, pretty fair," said Kullrich, smiling once more. Quite a
+peculiar smile, which even struck the careless youth. Kullrich had
+never been nice-looking, he had a lump at the end of his nose; but now
+Wolfgang could not take his eyes off him. How much more refined his
+face had grown and so--he could not contain himself any longer, all at
+once he blurted it out: "How different you look now. I hardly
+recognised you."
+
+"My son is soon going away," his father said quickly, drawing his
+son's arm more closely through his own as he spoke. "Then I hope he
+will come back quite well. But he has tried to do too much to-day. The
+weather was so fine--plenty of fresh air and the smell of the pines,
+the doctor said--but we have remained out too long. It won't do you any
+harm, I trust?" There was again such a terrible anxiety expressed in
+his voice. "Are you cold? Would you not like to sit down until we can
+start?" The father put a camp-stool, which he had carried under his
+arm, on the ground, and opened it: "Sit down a little, Fritz."
+
+Poor fellow! The father's voice, which trembled with such loving
+anxiety, touched Wolfgang strangely. Poor fellow, he really must be
+very ill. How terrible! He was overcome with dread, and stepped back
+involuntarily for fear the sick boy's breath should reach him. He was
+full of the egotism of youth and health; how unfortunate he should meet
+him there to-day, just to-day.
+
+"May I get you a carriage?" he inquired hastily--only
+let Kullrich get away, it was too awful to have to listen to that
+cough--"I'm acquainted with this neighbourhood; I shall be able to get
+one."
+
+"Oh yes, oh yes, a cab, a closed one if possible," said Kullrich's
+father, drawing a deep breath as though relieved of a great anxiety.
+"We shall not possibly be able to go by train. And it's getting so
+late. Are you really not cold, Fritz?" A cool wind had suddenly risen,
+and the old man took off his overcoat and hung it round his son's
+shoulders.
+
+How awful it must be for him to see his son like that, thought
+Wolfgang. To die, to die at all, how terrible. And how the man loved
+his son. You could hear that in his voice, see it in his looks.
+
+Wolfgang was pleased to be able to run about for a cab. It was
+difficult to get one now, and he ran about until he was quite out of
+breath. At last he got one. When he reached the place where the
+electric cars started, Herr Kullrich was in great despair. He had given
+up all hope and his son had coughed a good deal.
+
+He did not know what to say, he was so grateful. The unpretentious
+man--he was a subordinate official in one of the government offices and
+probably could not afford it--promised the driver a good tip if he
+would only drive them quickly to their home in Berlin. He enveloped his
+son in the rug that lay on the back seat; the driver also gave them a
+horse-cloth, and Wolfgang wrapped it round his schoolfellow's legs.
+
+"Thanks, thanks," said Fritz Kullrich faintly; he was quite knocked
+up now.
+
+"Come and see us some time, Herr Schlieben," said the father,
+pressing his hand. "Fritz would be pleased. And I am so grateful to you
+for helping us."
+
+"But come soon," said the son, smiling again in that peculiar
+manner. "Good-bye."
+
+"Good-bye." Wolfgang stood staring after the carriage as it
+disappeared quickly; there drove Kullrich--after his mother.
+
+Wolfgang's good spirits had flown. When his companions with whom he
+had spent the afternoon sought him with loud hallos--Hans must have
+given his Frida many hearty kisses, her hat was awry, her eyes gleamed
+amorously--he got rid of them without delay. He said good-bye to them
+quickly and went on alone. Death had touched his elbow. And one of the
+old songs he had sung with Cilia, the girl from his childhood, suddenly
+darted through his mind. Now he understood its deeper meaning for the
+first time:
+
+            Art thou now with fair cheeks prancing,
+            Cheeks milk-white, through rose-light glancing?
+            Roses wither soon, alas!
+
+He went home at once, he had no wish to loaf about out of doors
+any longer. And as he sauntered along with unsteady gait down
+out-of-the-way roads, something rose up before him in the dusk of the
+autumn evening and placed itself in his path--it was a question:
+
+"And you? Where are you going?"
+
+He entered his parents' house in a mood that was strangely soft and
+conciliatory. But when he stepped into the room, his parents were
+sitting there as though to pass sentence on him.
+
+Käte had not been able to keep it to herself after all, it had
+weighed on her mind, she had to tell somebody what she had seen. And it
+had irritated her husband more than his wife had expected. So the boy
+had got into such company!
+
+"Where have you been wandering about?" he said to his son
+angrily.
+
+The boy stopped short: why that voice? It was not so late.
+He raised his head with the feeling that they were treating him
+unjustly.
+
+"Don't look at me so impudently." His father lost control of
+himself. "Where is that woman you were wandering about with?"
+
+Wandering about--woman? The hot blood surged to the boy's head.
+Frida Lämke a woman--how mad. "She isn't a woman," he flared up. And
+then: "I haven't been wandering about."
+
+"Come, come, I've----" the man broke off quickly; he could not say:
+"I've seen you"--so he said: "We've seen you."
+
+Wolfgang got very red. Oh!--they had spied on him--no doubt
+to-day--had crept after him? He was not even safe from their prying
+looks so far away. He was furious. "How can you say 'that woman.' She
+isn't a woman."
+
+"Well--what is she then, may I ask?"
+
+"My friend."
+
+"Your friend?" His father gave a short angry laugh. "Friend--very
+well, but it's rather early for you to have such a friend. I forbid you
+to have friends of such doubtful, such more than doubtful
+character."
+
+"She isn't doubtful." Wolfgang's eyes sparkled. How right Frau Lämke
+was when she said the other day to him when he went to see them again:
+"Although I'm very pleased to see you, don't come too often, Wolfgang.
+Frida is only a poor girl, and such a one gets talked about at
+once."
+
+No, there was nothing doubtful about her. The son looked his father
+full in the face, pale with fury. "She's as respectable a girl as any.
+How can you speak of her like that? How d----" He faltered, he was in
+such a fury that his voice failed.
+
+"Dare--only say it straight out, dare." The man had more
+control over himself now, he had become quieter, for what he saw in his
+boy's face seemed to him to be honest indignation. No, he was not quite
+ruined yet, he had only been led astray, such women prefer to hang on
+to quite young people. And he said persuasively, meaning well: "Get
+away from the whole thing as quickly as possible. You'll save yourself
+much unpleasantness. I'll help you with it."
+
+"Thanks." The young fellow stuck his hands into his trouser pockets
+and stood there with an arrogant expression on his face.
+
+His soft mood had disappeared long ago, it had flown as soon as he
+took the first step into the room; now he was in the mood not to stand
+anything whatever. They had insulted Frida.
+
+"Where does she live?" his father asked.
+
+"You would like to know that, I daresay." His son laughed
+scornfully; it gave him a certain satisfaction to withhold her address,
+they were so curious. They should never find it out. It was not at all
+necessary to tell them. He threw his head back insolently, and did not
+answer.
+
+O God, what had happened to the boy! Käte stared at him quite
+terrified. He had changed completely, had become quite a different
+being. But then came the memory--she had loved him so much once--and
+the pain of knowing that she had lost him entirely and for ever.
+"Wolfgang, don't be like that, I beseech you. You know we have your
+welfare at heart, Wolfgang."
+
+He measured her with an inexplicable look. And then he looked past
+her into space.
+
+"It would be better if I were out of it all!" he jerked out
+suddenly, spontaneously. It was meant to sound defiant, but the
+defiance was swallowed up in the sudden recognition of a painful
+truth.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+They had agreed that Wolfgang should not live at the villa with them
+any longer. True, he was still very young, but the time for
+independence had come, his parents realised. Two prettily furnished
+rooms were taken in the neighbourhood of the office--Wolfgang was to
+take a much more active part in the business now--otherwise he would be
+left to himself. This coming home so late at night, this responsible
+control--no, it would not do for Käte to worry herself to death. Paul
+Schlieben had taken this step resignedly.
+
+And it seemed as though the days at the Schliebens' villa were
+really to be quieter, more peaceful. It was winter, and the snow was
+such a soft protecting cover for many a buried hope.
+
+Wolfgang used to come and visit them, but not too often; besides, he
+saw his father every day at the office. It never seemed to enter his
+head that his mother would have liked to see him more frequently. She
+did not let him perceive it. Was she perhaps to beg him to come more
+frequently? No, she had already begged much too much--for many years,
+almost eighteen years--and she told herself bitterly that it had been
+lost labour.
+
+When he came to them, they were on quite friendly terms with each
+other; his mother still continued to see that his clothes were the best
+that could be bought, his shirts as well got up as they could
+be, and that he had fine cambric night shirts and high collars. That he
+frequently did not look as he ought to have done was not her fault; nor
+was it perhaps the fault of his clothes, but rather on account of his
+tired expression, his weary eyes and the indifferent way in which he
+carried himself. He let himself go, he looked dissipated.
+
+But the husband and wife did not speak about it to each other. If he
+could only serve his time as a soldier, thought Paul Schlieben to
+himself. He hoped the restraint and the severe regulations in force in
+the army would regulate his whole life; what they, his parents, had not
+been able to effect with all their care, the drill would be able to do.
+Wolfgang was to appear before the commissioners in April. At present,
+during the winter, he certainly kept to the office hours more regularly
+and more conscientiously, but oh, how wretched he often looked in the
+morning. Terribly pale, positively ashen. "Dissipation." The father
+settled that with a shake of his head, but he said nothing to his son
+about it; why should he? An unpleasant scene would be the only result,
+which would not lead to anything, and would probably do more harm. For
+they no longer met on common ground.
+
+And thus things went on without any special disturbance, but all
+three suffered nevertheless; the son too.
+
+Frida thought she noticed that Wolfgang was often depressed.
+Sometimes he went to the theatre with her, she was so fond of
+"something to laugh at." But he did not join in her laughter, did not
+even laugh when the tears rolled down her cheeks with laughing. She
+could really get very vexed that lie had so little sense of what was
+amusing.
+
+"Aren't you enjoying yourself?"
+
+"Hm, moderately."
+
+"Are you ill?" she asked, quite frightened.
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, what's the matter with you then?"
+
+Then he shrugged his shoulders and looked so forbidding that she did
+not question him any more, but only pressed his hand and assured him
+she was amusing herself splendidly.
+
+Gradually these invitations to the theatre, which had mostly ended
+so pleasantly in a little intimate talk in some café or other, ceased.
+Frida saw her friend very rarely at all now; he no longer fetched her
+from business, and did not turn up at her home.
+
+"Who knows?" said Frau Lämke, "perhaps he'll soon get engaged. He
+has probably somebody in his mind's eye."
+
+Frida pouted. She was put out that Wolfgang never came. What could
+be the matter with him? She commenced to spy on him; but not only out
+of curiosity.
+
+And somebody else made inquiries about his doings too--that was his
+mother. At least, she tried to find out what he was doing. But she only
+discovered that he had once been seen in a small theatre with a pretty
+person, a blonde, whose hair was done in a very conspicuous manner. Oh,
+that was the one at Schildhorn. She still saw that fair hair gleam in
+the dusk--that was the one who was doing all the mischief.
+
+The mother made inquiries about her son's doings with a sagacity
+that would have done credit to a policeman. Had her husband had any
+idea of how often--at any time of the day or evening--his wife wandered
+round the house where Wolfgang had his rooms, he would have opposed it
+most strenuously. Her burning desire to hear from Wolfgang, to know
+something about him, made Käte forget her own dignity. When she knew he
+was absent she had gone up to his rooms more than once,
+nominally to bring him this or that; but when she found herself alone
+there--she knew how to get rid of his garrulous landlady--she would
+rush about in both his rooms inspecting everything, would examine the
+things on his writing-table, even turn over every bit of paper. She was
+never conscious of what she was doing as long as she was there, but on
+going down the stairs again she felt how she had humiliated herself;
+she turned scarlet and felt demeaned in her own eyes, and promised
+herself faithfully never, never to do it again. And still she did it
+again. It was torture to her, and yet she could not leave it off.
+
+It was a cold day in winter--already evening, not late according to
+Berlin notions, but still time for closing the shops, and the theatres
+and concerts had commenced long ago--and Käte was still sitting in her
+son's rooms. He had not been to the villa to see her for a week--why
+not? A great anxiety had suddenly taken possession of her that day, she
+had felt obliged to go to him. Her husband imagined she had gone to see
+one of Hauptmann's pieces played for the first time--and she could
+also go there later on, for surely Wolfgang must soon come home now. In
+answer to her letter of inquiry he had written that he had a cold, and
+stopped at home in the evenings. Well, she certainly did not want him
+to come out to her and catch fresh cold, but it was surely natural that
+she should go to see him. She made excuses to herself.
+
+And so she waited and waited. The time passed very slowly. She had
+come towards seven o'clock, now it was already nine. She had carefully
+inspected both rooms a good many times, had stood at the window looking
+down absently at the throng in the streets, had sat down, got up and
+sat down again. Now she walked up and down restlessly, anxiously. The
+landlady had already come in several times and found something
+to do; her inquisitive scrutinising glances would have annoyed Käte at
+any other time, but now she took no notice of them. She could not make
+up her mind to go yet--if he were ill why did he not come home? Her
+anxiety increased. Something weighed on her mind like a premonition of
+coming evil. She would really have to ask the landlady now--it was
+already ten o'clock--if he always came home so late in spite of his
+cold. She rang for the woman.
+
+She came, inwardly much annoyed. Why had Frau Schlieben not confided
+in her long ago? Hm, she would have to wait now, the stuck-up
+person.
+
+"I suppose my son always comes home late?" Käte inquired. Her voice
+sounded quite calm, she must not let such a woman notice how anxious
+she really was.
+
+"Hm," said the landlady, "sometimes he does, sometimes he
+doesn't."
+
+"I'm only surprised that he conies so late as he has a cold."
+
+"Oh, has the young gentleman a cold?"
+
+What, the woman with whom Wolfgang had lived almost three months
+knew so little about him? And she had promised to take such exceedingly
+good care of him. "You must give him a hot bottle at night. This room
+is cold." Käte shivered and rubbed her hands. "And bring him a glass of
+hot milk with some Ems salts in it before he gets up."
+
+The landlady heard the reproach in her voice at once, although
+nothing further was said, and became still more annoyed. "Hm, if he
+doesn't come home at all, I can't give him a hot bottle at night or hot
+milk in the morning."
+
+"What--does not come home at all?" Käte thought she could
+not have understood aright. She stared at the woman. "Does not come
+home at all?"
+
+The woman nodded: "I can tell you, ma'am, it's no joke letting
+furnished rooms, you have to put up with a good deal. Such a young
+gentleman--oh my!" She laughed half-angrily, half-amused. "I once had
+one who remained away eight days--it was about the first of the month.
+I was terrified about my rent--I had to go to the police."
+
+"Where was he then? Where was he then?" Käte's voice quivered.
+
+The woman laughed. "Well, then he turned up again." She saw the
+mother's terror, and her good-nature gained the victory over her
+malice. "He'll be sure to come again, ma'am," she said consolingly.
+"They all come again. Don't fear. And Herr Schlieben has only been two
+days away as yet."
+
+Two days away--two days? It was two days since he had written, in
+reply to her letter, that he had a cold and must remain at home. Käte
+gazed around her as though she had lost her senses, her eyes looked
+quite dazed. Where had he been the whole of those two days? Not there
+and not at home--oh, he had not been to see her for a whole week. But
+he must have been at the office or Paul would have mentioned it. But
+where was he all the rest of the time? That was only a couple of hours.
+And a day is long. And the nights, the nights! Good God, the nights,
+where was he during the nights?
+
+Käte would have liked to have screamed aloud, but the landlady was
+watching her with such inquisitive eyes, that she pressed the nails of
+one hand into the palm of the other and controlled herself. But her
+voice was nothing but a whisper now: "Hasn't he been here at all for
+the last two days?"
+
+"No, not at all. But wait a moment." Her love of a gossip
+was stronger than the reserve she had meant to show. Drawing near to
+the lady who had sunk down in a chair, and dragging a chair forward for
+herself, she began to chatter to her, giving her all the details: "It
+was Sunday--no, Saturday that I began to notice there was something the
+matter with him. Ay, he's one of the dashing sort. He was quite
+mad."
+
+"What do you mean? 'Mad' do you say?"
+
+The landlady laughed. "Oh, I don't mean in that way at all, you
+mustn't take it so literally, ma'am. Well, he was--well, what am I to
+call it?--well, as they all are. Well, and in the evening he went away
+as usual--well, and then he did not come back again."
+
+"And how--how was he?" The mother could only get the words out in
+jerks, she could no longer speak connectedly, a sudden terror had
+overwhelmed her, almost paralysing her tongue. "Did he--seem strange?"
+As in a vision his livid face and the place in the sand near
+Schildhorn, where the wind was always blowing, appeared before her many
+a mother's son, many a mother's son--O God, O God, if he had made away
+with himself! She trembled as the leaves do in a storm, and broke down
+altogether.
+
+The landlady guessed the mother's thoughts instinctively, and she
+assured her in a calm good-natured voice: "No, don't imagine that
+for a moment. He wasn't sad--and not exactly happy either--well,
+like--like--well, just in the right mood."
+
+"And--oh, could you not give me a--a hint of--where--where he might
+be?"
+
+The woman shook her head doubtfully. "Who could know that? You see,
+ma'am, there are so many temptations. But wait a moment." She shut her
+eyes tightly and pondered. "Some time ago such a pretty girl used to
+come here, she used to fetch him to go to the theatre, she
+said--well, it may have been true. She often came, very often--once a
+week at least. She was fair, really a pretty girl."
+
+"Fair--quite light-coloured hair--a good deal of it and waved over
+the ears?"
+
+"Yes, yes, it was done like that, combed over the ears, a large knot
+behind you could not help noticing it, it was so fair. And they were on
+very friendly terms with each other."
+
+Fair hair--extremely fair. Ah, she had known it at once when she saw
+him at Schildhorn with that fair-haired girl. Everything seemed to be
+clear to her now. "You--do not know, I suppose--oh, do you happen to
+know her name?"
+
+"He called her Frida."
+
+"Frida?"
+
+"Yes, Frida. I know that for certain. But she does not come here any
+more now. But perhaps he's got a letter from her. I'll look, just you
+wait." And the woman bent down, drew out the paper-basket from under
+the writing-table and began to rummage in it.
+
+"He throws everything into the paper-basket, you see," she said in
+an explanatory tone of voice.
+
+She had certainly never sought there. Käte looked on with staring
+eyes, whilst the woman turned over every scrap of paper with practised
+ringers. All at once she cried out: "There, we've got it." And she
+placed some bits of paper triumphantly on the table. "Here's a letter
+from her. Do you see? I know the writing. Now we'll see."
+
+Laying their heads together the two women tried to piece together
+the separate bits of the letter that had been torn up. But they were
+not successful, too much was wanting, they could only put a very few
+sentences together:
+
+           "not come any more--
+           "angry with me--
+           "soon come to you some evening--
+           "always your"
+
+But wait, here was the signature. That had not been torn, here it
+stood large and connected at the bottom of the sheet of paper:
+
+           "always your"
+                             "FRIDA LÄMKE."
+
+"Frida Lämke?" Käte gave a loud cry of surprise. Frida Lämke--no,
+she had never thought that--or were there perhaps two of the same name?
+That fair-haired child that used to play in the garden in former years?
+Why yes, yes, she had always had bold eyes.
+
+"You know her, I suppose?" asked the landlady, her eyes gleaming
+with curiosity.
+
+Käte did not answer. She stared at the carpet in deep thought. Was
+this worse--or was it not so bad? Could it not still be hindered now
+that she was on the track, or was everything lost? She did not know;
+her head was no longer clear enough for her to consider the matter from
+a sensible point of view, she could not even think any more. She only
+had the feeling that she must go to the Lämkes. Only go there, go there
+as quickly as possible. Jumping up she said hastily: "That's all right,
+quite all right--thanks. Oh, it's all right." And hastening past the
+disconcerted woman she hurried to the door and down the stairs.
+Somebody happened to unlock the door from outside at that moment; thus
+she got out.
+
+Now she was in the street. She had never stood in Friedrichstrasse
+so quite alone at that time of night before; her husband had always
+accompanied her, and if she happened to go to the theatre or a concert
+alone for once in a way, he had always fetched her himself or
+made Friedrich fetch her, at any rate. All at once she was seized with
+something that resembled fear, although the beautiful street was as
+light as day.
+
+Such a quantity of men, such a quantity of women. They flowed past
+her like a stream, and she was carried with them. Figures surged round
+her like waves--rustling dresses that smelt strongly of scent, and
+gentlemen, men, young and old, old men and youths, some of whom were
+hardly more than boys. It was like a corso there--what were they all
+seeking? So this was Berlin's much-talked-of and amusing life at night?
+It was awful, oh, unspeakably horrible.
+
+Suddenly Käte saw everything from one point of view only. Hitherto
+she had been blind, as unsuspicious as a child. A policeman's helmet
+came into sight. She flew away as though somebody were in pursuit of
+her: the man could not see that she had grey hairs and that she was a
+lady. Perhaps he, too, looked upon her as one of those. Let her only
+get away, away.
+
+She threw herself into a cab, she fell rather than got into it. She
+gave the driver her address in a trembling voice. A burning longing
+came over her all at once: home, only home. Home to her clean,
+well-regulated house, to those walls that surrounded her like a
+shelter. No, he must not come into her clean house any more, not carry
+his filth into those rooms.
+
+She drove the whole way huddled up in a corner, her trembling
+eyelids closed convulsively; the road seemed endless to her to-day. How
+slowly the cab drove. Oh, what would Paul say? He would be getting
+anxious, she was so late.
+
+All at once Käte longed to fly to her husband's arms and find
+shelter on his breast. She had quite forgotten she had wanted to go to
+the Lämkes straight away. Besides, how could she? It was
+almost midnight, and who knows, perhaps she would only find a mother
+there, who was just as unhappy as she? Lost children--alas, one does
+not know which is more terrible, a lost son or a lost daughter!
+
+Käte cried bitterly. But when the tears stole from under her closed
+lids and ran down her cheeks, she became calmer. Now that she no longer
+saw the long procession in the street, did not see what went on there
+every night, her fear disappeared. Her courage rose again; and as it
+rose the knowledge came to her, that she was only a weak and timid
+woman, but he a robust youth, who was to be a man, a strong swimmer.
+There was no need to lose all hope yet.
+
+By the time the first pines in the quiet colony glided past to the
+right and left of her and the moonshine showed pure white on their
+branches, Käte had made up her mind. She would go to the Lämkes next
+day and speak to the mother, and she would not say anything to her
+husband about it beforehand. The same fear that now so often made her
+mute in his presence took possession of her once more: he would never
+feel as she felt. He would perhaps seize the boy with a rough hand, and
+that must not be. She was still there, and it was her duty to help the
+stumbling lad with gentle hand.
+
+Käte went up to her husband quite quietly, so calmly that he did not
+notice anything. But when she took the road to the Lämkes next day, her
+heart trembled and beat as spasmodically as it had done before. She had
+fought against her fear and faint-heartedness the whole morning; now it
+was almost noon on that account, Paul had told her at breakfast that
+Wolfgang had not been to the office the day before and only for quite a
+short time the preceding day. "I don't know what's the matter with the
+boy," he had said. "I'm really too angry with him. But I
+suppose we ought to find out what's happened to him." "I'll do so," she
+had answered.
+
+Her feet hardly carried her as she slowly crept along, but at last
+she almost ran: he had been her child for many, many years, and she
+shared the responsibility. She no longer asked herself how she was to
+begin the conversation with Frau Lämke, she hoped the right word would
+be given her when the time came.
+
+So she groped her way down the dark steps to the cellar where the
+Lämkes lived, knocked at the door and walked in without waiting for an
+answer.
+
+Frau Lämke was just washing the floor, the brush fell from her hand
+and she quickly let down the dress that she had turned up: Frau
+Schlieben? What did she want at her house? The pale woman with the
+innocent-looking face that had grown so thin gazed at the lady with the
+utmost astonishment.
+
+"How do you do, Frau Lämke," said Käte, in quite a friendly voice.
+"Is your daughter Frida at home? I want to speak to her."
+
+"No, Frida isn't at home." The woman looked still more perturbed:
+what did the lady want with Frida? She had never troubled about her
+before. "Frida is at business."
+
+"Is she? Do you know that for certain?"
+
+There was something offensive in her way of questioning, but Frau
+Lämke did not notice anything in her innocence. "Frida is never back
+from business at this time of day, but she is due in less than half an
+hour. She has two hours off at dinner-time; in the evening she does not
+come in until about ten, as they only close at nine. But if you would
+like her to come to you after her dinner"--Frau Lämke was very curious,
+what could she want with Frida?--"she'll be pleased to do so."
+
+"She'll be here in half an hour, you say?"
+
+"Yes, certainly. She's always in a hurry to come home to her
+mother--and she's always hungry too."
+
+"I will wait for her if I may," said Käte.
+
+"Please sit down." Frau Lämke hastily wiped a chair with her apron:
+after all, it was an honour that Wolfgang's mother came to see Frida in
+the cellar. And in a voice full of cordial sympathy she said: "How is
+the young gentleman? if I may ask. Is he quite well?"
+
+Käte did not answer her: that was really too great an impertinence,
+quite an unheard-of impertinence. How could she ask so boldly? But all
+at once she was filled with doubt: did she know anything about it? She
+looked into her innocent eyes. This woman had probably been deceived as
+she had been. She had not the heart to explain matters--poor mother! So
+she only nodded and said evasively: "Quite well, thanks."
+
+They were silent, both feeling a certain embarrassment. Frau Lämke
+peeled the potatoes for dinner and put them on, now and then casting a
+furtive look at the lady who sat waiting. Käte was pale and tried to
+hide her yawns; her agitation had been followed by a feeling of great
+exhaustion. For was she not waiting in vain? And this mother would also
+wait in vain to-day. The girl, that hypocrite, was not coming. Käte was
+seized with something akin to fury when she thought of the girl's
+fair hair. That was what had led her boy astray, that had bewitched
+him--perhaps he could not throw her off now. "Always your--your Frida
+Lämke"--she had sulked in that letter, he had probably wanted to draw
+back but--"if you don't come I shall come to you,"--oh, she would no
+doubt take care not to let him go, she held him fast.
+
+Käte did not believe that Frida Lämke would come home. It
+was getting on for two o'clock. Her mother had lied, perhaps she was
+acting in concert with the girl all the time.
+
+But now Käte gave a start, a step was heard on the cellar steps, and
+on hearing it her mother said, delighted: "That's Frida."
+
+Someone hummed a tune outside--then the door opened.
+
+Frida Lämke was wearing a dark fur toque on her fair hair now,
+instead of the little sailor hat; it was imitation fur, but two pigeon
+wings were stuck in on one side, and the hat suited her pert little
+face well.
+
+Käte was standing in the greatest agitation; she had jumped up and
+was looking at the girl with burning eyes. So she had really come. She
+was there but Wolfgang, where was he? She quite shouted at the girl as
+she said: "Do you know where my son is--Wolfgang--Wolfgang
+Schlieben?"
+
+Frida's rosy face turned white in her surprise. She wanted to say
+something, stammered, hesitated, bit her lips and got scarlet. "How
+should I know? I don't know."
+
+"You know very well. Don't tell a lie." Käte seized hold of Frida
+violently by both her slender arms. She would have liked to catch hold
+of her fair hair and scream aloud whilst tearing it out: "My boy! Give
+me back my boy!" But she had not the strength to go on shaking her
+until she had forced her to confess.
+
+Frida's blue eyes looked at her quite openly, quite frankly, even if
+there seemed to be a slight anxiety in her glance. "I've not seen him
+for a long time, ma'am," she said honestly. And then her voice grew
+softer and there was a certain anxiety in it: "He used to come here
+formerly, but he never does now--does he, mother?"
+
+Frau Lämke shook her head: "No, never." She did not feel at all at
+her ease, everything seemed so strange to her: Frau Schlieben in their
+cellar, and what did she want with Frida? Something had happened, there
+was something wrong. But whatever it was her Frida was innocent, Frau
+Schlieben must know that. And so she took courage: "If you think that
+my Frida has anything to do with it, ma'am, you're very much mistaken.
+My Frida has walked out a long time with Flebbe--Hans Flebbe, the
+coachman's son, he's a grocer--and besides, Frida is a respectable
+girl. What are you thinking about my daughter? But it's always like
+that, a girl of our class cannot be respectable, oh no!" The insulted
+mother got quite aggressive now. "My Frida was a very good friend of
+your Wolfgang, and I am also quite fond of him when I felt so wretched
+last summer he sent me fifty marks that I might go to Fangschleuse for
+three weeks and get better--but let him try to come here again now,
+I'll turn him out, the rascal!" Her pale face grew hot and red in her
+vague fear that something might be said against her Frida.
+
+Frida rushed up to her and threw her arm round her shoulders: "Oh,
+don't get angry, mother. You're not to excite yourself, or you'll get
+that pain in your stomach again."
+
+Frida became quite energetic now. With her arm still round her
+mother's shoulders she turned her fair head to Käte: "You'll have to go
+somewhere else, ma'am, I can't tell you anything about your son. Mother
+and I were speaking quite lately about his never coming here now. And I
+wrote him a note the other day, telling him to come and see us--because
+I had not seen him for ever so long, and--and--well, because he always
+liked to be with me. But he hasn't answered it. I've certainly
+not done anything to him. But he has changed greatly." She put on a
+knowing look: "I think it would be better if he still lived at home,
+ma'am."
+
+Käte stared at her. What did she suspect? What did she know? Did she
+really know anything? Doubts rose in her mind, and then came the
+certainty: this girl was innocent, otherwise she would not have been
+able to speak like that. Even the most artful person could not look so
+ingenuous. And she had also confessed quite of her own accord that she
+had lately written to Wolfgang--no, this girl was not so bad, it
+must be another one with fair hair. But where was she to look for
+her?--where find Wolfgang?
+
+And holding out both her hands to the girl as though she were
+begging her pardon, she said in a voice full of misery: "But don't you
+know anything? Have you no idea whatever where he might be? It was two
+days yesterday since he went away--since he disappeared--disappeared
+entirely, his landlady does not know where."
+
+"Disappeared entirely--two days ago?" Frida opened her eyes
+wide.
+
+"Yes, I've just told you so. That's why I am asking you. He has
+disappeared, quite disappeared."
+
+A furious impatience took possession of his mother and at the same
+time the full understanding of her painful position. She put her hands
+before her face and groaned aloud.
+
+Frau Lämke and her daughter exchanged glances full of compassion.
+Frida turned pale, then red, it seemed as if she were about to say
+something, but she kept silent nevertheless.
+
+"But he's not bad, no, he's not bad," whispered Frau Lämke.
+
+"Who says that he's bad?" Käte started up, letting her hands fall
+from before her face. All the misery she had endured during
+those long years and the hopelessness of it all lay in her voice as she
+added: "He's been led astray, he has gone astray--he's lost, lost!"
+
+Frida wept aloud. "Oh, don't say that," she cried. "He'll come back
+again, he's sure to come back. If only I--" she hesitated and frowned
+as she pondered--"knew for certain."
+
+"Help me! Oh, can't you help me?"
+
+Frau Lämke clasped her hands when she heard the poor woman's cry of
+"Help me!" and trembled with excitement: how terrible if a mother has
+to live to see her child do such things, the child she has brought into
+the world with such pain. Forgetting the respect with which she always
+regarded Käte she tottered up to her and grasped her cold hand as it
+hung at her side: "Oh dear, oh dear, I am so grieved, so terribly
+grieved. But calm yourself. You know a mother has still such power,
+quite special power, her child never forgets her quite." And she smiled
+with a certain security.
+
+"But he isn't my son--not my own son--I'm not his real mother." Käte
+confessed now what she had never confessed before. Her fear dragged it
+out of her and the hope that the woman would say: "He won't forget such
+a mother either, certainly not."
+
+But Frau Lämke did not say it. There was doubt written on her face
+and she shook her head. She had not thought of her not being Wolfgang's
+real mother at that moment.
+
+There was a troubled silence in the room. All that could be heard
+was a sound of heavy breathing, until at last Frida broke the
+paralysing stillness in her clear voice. "Have you been to see the
+landlady to-day?" she asked. Käte shook her head in silence. "Well
+then, ma'am, you say it was two days ago yesterday, then he
+may have come back to-day. We shall have to make inquiries. Shall I run
+there quickly?"
+
+And she was already at the door, and did not hear her mother call
+after her: "Frida, Frida, you must eat a mouthful first, you haven't
+eaten any dinner yet," but ran up the cellar steps in her good-natured
+haste and compassionate sympathy.
+
+Käte ran after her.
+
+But they got no further news in Friedrichstrasse. There were fires
+in the rooms, they had been dusted, the breakfast table had even been
+laid as if the young gentleman was expected to come any moment--the
+landlady hoped to receive special praise for her thoughtfulness--but
+the young gentleman had not returned.
+
+           *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
+
+Käte Schlieben was ill in bed. The doctor shrugged his shoulders: there
+was not much to be done, it was a question of complete apathy. If only
+something would happen that would rouse her, something for which it
+would repay her to make an effort, she would be all right again. At
+present he prescribed strengthening food--her pulse was so bad--every
+hour a spoonful of puro, essence of beef, eggs, milk, oysters and such
+like.
+
+Paul Schlieben was sitting near his wife's bed; he had just come
+home from town. He was sitting there with bent head and knit brows.
+
+"Still nothing about him? What did the woman say--nothing at all
+about him?" Käte had just whispered in a feeble voice.
+
+His only answer was: "We shall have to communicate with the police
+after all now."
+
+"No, no, not with the police. Should we have him sought as though he
+were a criminal? You're terrible, Paul. Be quiet, Paul." Her
+voice that had been so feeble at first had almost become a scream.
+
+He shrugged his shoulders. "There's nothing left for us to do but
+that," and he looked at her anxiously and then lowered his head.
+
+It seemed to him as though he could not realise the calamity that
+had overtaken him, as though it were too great. It was now a week since
+Wolfgang had gone away--the misery that fellow had brought on them was
+terrible, terrible. But his wife's condition made him still more
+uneasy. How would it end? Her increased nervousness was dangerous; and
+then there was her complete loss of strength. Käte had never been a
+robust woman, but now she was getting so thin, so very thin; the hand
+that lay so languidly on the coverlet had become quite transparent
+during the last week. Oh, and her hair so grey.
+
+The man sought for the traces of former beauty in his wife's face
+with sad eyes: too many wrinkles, too many lines graven on it, furrows
+that the plough of grief had made there. He had to weep; it seemed too
+hard to see her like that. Turning his head aside he shaded his eyes
+with his hand.
+
+He sat thus in silence without moving, and she did not move either,
+but lay as though asleep.
+
+Then somebody knocked. The man glanced at his wife in dismay: had it
+disturbed her? But she did not raise her eyelids.
+
+He went to the door on tip-toe and opened it. Friedrich brought the
+post, all sorts of letters and papers. Paul only held out his hand to
+take them from habit, he took so little interest in anything now.
+During the first days after Wolfgang's disappearance Käte had always
+trembled for fear there should be something about him in the newspaper,
+she had been tortured by the most terrible fears; now she no
+longer asked. But it was the man's turn to tremble, although he tried
+to harden himself: what would they still have to bear? He never took up
+a paper without a certain dread.
+
+"Don't rustle the paper so horribly, I can't bear it," said the
+feeble woman irritably. Then he got up to creep out of the room--it was
+better he went, she did not like him near her. But his glance fell on
+one of the letters. Whose unformed, copy-book handwriting was that?
+Probably a begging letter. It was addressed to his wife, but she did
+not open any letters at present; and he positively longed to open just
+that letter. It was not curiosity, he felt as if he must do it.
+
+He opened the letter more quickly than he was in the habit of doing.
+A woman had written it, no doubt a girl the letters were carefully
+formed, with no character in them. And the person had evidently
+endeavoured to disguise her writing.
+
+"If you wish to find out anything about your son, you must go to
+140, Puttkammerstrasse, and watch the third storey in the back
+building, left side wing, where 'Knappe' is written above the bell.
+There she lives."
+
+No name had been signed underneath it; "A Good Friend" was all that
+was written below.
+
+Paul Schlieben had a feeling as if the paper were burning his
+fingers--common paper, but pink and smelling of cheap perfumed soap--an
+anonymous letter, faugh! What had this trash to do with them? He was
+about to crumple it up when Käte's voice called to him from the bed:
+"What have you got there, Paul? A letter? Show me it."
+
+And as he approached her, but only slowly, hesitatingly, she raised
+herself up and tore the letter out of his hand. She read it and cried
+out in a loud voice: "Frida Lämke has written that. I'm sure it's from
+her. She was going to look for him--and her brother and the man she's
+engaged to--they will have found him. Puttkammerstrasse--where is that?
+140, we shall have to go there. Immediately, without delay. Ring for
+the maid. My shoes, my things--oh, I can't find anything. For goodness'
+sake do ring. She must do my hair--oh, never mind, I can do it all
+myself."
+
+She had jumped out of bed in trembling haste; she was sitting in
+front of her dressing-table now, combing her long hair herself. It was
+tangled from lying in bed, but she combed it through with merciless
+haste.
+
+"If only we don't arrive too late. We shall have to make haste. He's
+sure to be there, quite sure to be there. Why do you stand there
+looking at me like that? Do get ready. I shall be ready directly, we
+shall be able to go directly. Paul, dear Paul, we are sure to find him
+there--oh God!" She threw out her arms, her weakness made her dizzy,
+but her will conquered the weakness. Now she stood quite firmly on her
+feet.
+
+Nobody would have believed that she had just been lying in her bed
+perfectly helpless. Her husband had not the courage to oppose her
+wishes, besides, how could things be worse than they were? They could
+never be worse than they were, and at all events she would never be
+able to reproach him any more that he had not loved the boy.
+
+When, barely half an hour later, they got into the carriage
+Friedrich had telephoned for, she was less pale than, and did not look
+so old as, he.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+Whenever Frida Lämke met Wolfgang Schlieben now, she cast down her eyes
+and he pretended not to see her. He was angry with her: the confounded
+little minx to betray him. She was the only one who could have put his
+parents on his track. How should they otherwise have ever guessed it?
+He could have kicked himself for having once given that viper hints
+about his acquaintance in Puttkammerstrasse. Frida and her friendship,
+just let her try to talk to him again about friendship. Pooh, women on
+the whole were not worth anything.
+
+A fierce contempt for women had taken possession of the young
+fellow. He would have liked to spit in their faces--all venal
+creatures--he knew quite enough about them now, ay, and loathed
+them.
+
+The boy, who was not yet nineteen, felt tired and old; strangely
+tired. When Wolfgang thought of the time that had just passed, it
+seemed to him like a dream; now that the rooms in Friedrichstrasse had
+been given up and he was living with his parents again, even like a bad
+dream. And when he met Frida Lämke--that could not be avoided as he
+drove to and fro regularly in office hours now--he felt a bitter pang
+every time. He did not even say how do you do to her, he could not
+bring himself to say even that.
+
+If only he could throw of! the oppression that weighed him down.
+They were not unkind to him--no, they were even very good--but still he
+had always the feeling that they only tolerated him. That irritated him
+and made him sad at the same time. They had not reproached him, would
+probably not do so either, but his father was always grave, reserved,
+and his mother's glance had something that simply tortured him. He was
+filled with a morbid distrust: why did they not tell him straight out
+they despised him?
+
+Something that was almost remorse troubled him during the nights
+when he could not sleep. At such times his heart would throb,
+positively flutter, he had to sit up in bed--he could not bear to lie
+down--and fight for breath. Then he stared into the dark, his eyes
+distended with terror. Oh, what a horrible condition that was. In the
+morning when the attack was over--this "moral sickness"--as he used to
+call it scornfully--he was vexed at his sentimentality. What wrong had
+he done? Nothing different from what hundreds of other young fellows
+do, only they were not so idiotic as he. That Frida, that confounded
+gossip. He would have liked to wring her neck.
+
+After those bad nights Wolfgang was still more unamiable, more
+taciturn, more sulky, more reserved than ever. And he looked more
+wretched.
+
+"He's run down," said Paul Schlieben to himself. He did not say so
+to his wife--why agitate her still more?--for he could see that she was
+uneasy from the way she took care of him. She did not make use of words
+or of caresses--those days were over--but she paid special attention to
+his food; he was positively pampered. A man of his age ought to be much
+stronger. His back no longer seemed to be so broad, his chest was less
+arched, his black eyes lay deep in their sockets and had dark
+lines under them. He held himself badly and he was always in very bad
+spirits. His spirits, yes, his spirits, those were at the root of all
+the evil, but no care could alter them and no medicine. The young
+fellow was dissatisfied with himself, that was it, and was it any
+wonder? He felt ashamed of himself.
+
+And the situation in which he had found him rose up before his
+father's mental vision with terrible distinctness.
+
+He had let his wife wait downstairs for him--true, she had made a
+point of going up with him, but he had insisted on her staying down in
+the court-yard, that narrow, dark yard which smelt of fustiness and
+dust--he had gone up alone. Three flights of stairs. They had seemed
+terribly steep to him, his knees had never felt so tired before when
+mounting any stairs. There was the name "Knappe." He had touched the
+bell--ugh, what a start he had given when he heard the shrill peal.
+What did he really want there? As the result of an anonymous letter he,
+Paul Schlieben, was forcing his way in on strange people, into a
+strange house? The blood surged to his head--and at that moment the
+person opened the door in a light blue dressing-gown, no longer young,
+but buxom, and with good-natured eyes. And by the gleam of a miserable
+kitchen lamp, which lighted up the pitch-dark passage even at noon, he
+had seen a smart top-coat and a fine felt hat hanging in the entrance,
+and had recognised Wolfgang's things. So he was really there? There? So
+the anonymous letter had not lied after all.
+
+He did not know exactly what he had done after that; he only knew he
+had got rid of some money. And then he had led the young man down the
+stairs by the arm--that is to say, dragged him more than led him. Käte
+had met them halfway. She had found the time too long downstairs,
+open-mouthed children had gathered round her, and women had
+watched her from the windows. She was almost in despair: why did Paul
+remain upstairs such a terribly long time? She had had no idea, of
+course, that he had first to wake his son out of a leaden sleep in an
+untidy bed. And she must never, never know.
+
+Now they had got him home again, but was it a pleasure? To that Paul
+Schlieben had to give a curt "no" as answer, even if he had felt ever
+so disposed to forgive, ever so placable. No joy came to them from that
+quarter now. Perhaps they might have some later, much later. For the
+time being it would be best for the young man to serve his time as a
+soldier.
+
+Wolfgang was to present himself on the first of April. Schlieben
+pinned his last hope to that.
+
+Wolfgang had always wished to serve with the Rathenow Hussars, but
+after their last experiences his father deemed it more advisable to let
+him join the more sedate infantry.
+
+Formerly Wolfgang would have opposed this plan very strenuously--in
+any case it must be cavalry--now it did not enter his head to do so. If
+he had to serve as a soldier, it was quite immaterial to him where; he
+was dead tired. His only wish was to sleep his fill for once. Kullrich
+was dead--his sorrowing father had sent him the announcement from
+Görbersdorf towards Christmas--and he? He had wasted too many nights in
+dissipation.
+
+It was a blow to Paul Schlieben that Wolfgang was not accepted as a
+soldier. "Disqualified"--a hard word--and why disqualified?
+
+"Serious organic defect of the heart"--his parents read it with eyes
+that thought they had made a mistake and that still read correctly.
+
+Wolfgang was very exhausted when he came home after the
+examination, but he did not seem to mind much that he was disqualified.
+He did not show it--but was he not, all the same?
+
+The doctor tried to put everything in as favourable a light as he
+could after he, too, had examined him. "Defect of the heart, good
+gracious, defect of the heart, there isn't a single person who has a
+perfectly normal heart. If you take a little care of yourself,
+Wolfgang, and live a regular life, you can grow to be a very old man
+with it."
+
+The young fellow did not say a word.
+
+The Schliebens overwhelmed their doctor with reproaches. Why had he
+not told them it long ago? He must surely have known. Why had he left
+them in such ignorance?
+
+Dr. Hofmann defended himself: had he not again and again exhorted
+them to be careful? He had been anxious about the boy's heart ever
+since he had had scarlet fever, and had not concealed his fears. All
+the same, he had not thought matters would get worse so quickly. The
+boy had lived too gay a life.
+
+"Serious organic defect of the heart"--that was like a sentence of
+death. Wolfgang laid down his arms. All at once he felt he had no
+longer the strength to fight against those attacks in the night. What
+he had fought out all alone in his bed, even without lighting his
+candle, before he knew that, now drove him to his feet. It drove him to
+the window--he tore it open--drove him round the room, until he at
+last, completely exhausted, found rest in the arm-chair. It drove him
+even to knock at his parents' door: "Are you asleep? I am so
+frightened. Sit up with me."
+
+           *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
+
+They had had bad nights for weeks. Wolfgang had suffered and his mother
+with him. How could she sleep when she knew that somebody in
+the next room was in torture?
+
+Now he was better again. Their old friend's medicines had had a good
+effect, and Wolfgang had gone through a regular cure: baths, friction,
+massage, special diet. Now they could be quite satisfied with the
+result. It was especially the strictly regular life that had done him
+good; his weight had increased, his eyes were brighter, his complexion
+fresher. They were all full of hope--all except one. That one had no
+wish to live any longer.
+
+The month of April was raw and stormy, quite exceptionally cold. It
+was impossible for the convalescent to be as much in the open air as
+was desirable, especially as any exercise that would warm him, such as
+tennis, cycling, riding, was still too tiring for him. The doctor
+proposed to send him to the Riviera. Even if there were only a few
+weeks left before it would be too hot there, that would suffice.
+
+His father was at once willing for the young fellow to go. If it
+would do him good of course he must go. Käte offered to accompany
+him.
+
+"But why, my dear lady? The youngster can quite well go alone," the
+doctor assured her.
+
+However, she insisted on it, she would go with him. It was not
+because she still feared she might lose him; it was her duty to do so,
+she must accompany him even if she had not wished to. And at the same
+time a faint desire began to stir in her, too, unknown to herself. She
+was so well acquainted with the south--should they go to Sestri, for
+example? She looked inquiringly at her husband. Had they not once spent
+some perfectly delightful days on the coast near Spezia? There, near
+the blue sea, where the large stone pines are greener and give more
+shade than the palms further south, where there is something crisp and
+refreshing in the air in spite of its mildness, where there is
+nothing relaxing in the climate but everything is vivifying.
+
+He smiled; of course they could go there. He was so pleased that his
+wife's enthusiasm was not quite a thing of the past.
+
+Wolfgang rummaged about in his room for a long time on the afternoon
+before their departure. Käte, who feared he might exert himself too
+much whilst packing, had sent Friedrich to assist him. But the latter
+soon came downstairs again: "The young gentleman wishes to do it
+alone."
+
+When Wolfgang had put the last things into his trunk he looked round
+his room thoughtfully. He had grown up there, he had so often looked
+upon the room as a cage, would he ever return to it?
+
+_Here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come._
+
+The text he had received at his confirmation hung on the wall
+opposite him in a beautiful frame. He had not read it for a long time.
+Now he read it again, smiling slightly, a little scornfully and a
+little sadly. Yes, he would flutter back into it. He had got used to
+the cage.
+
+And now he resolved to do something more as the very last thing--to
+go to Frida.
+
+Frau Lämke was speechless with astonishment, almost frightened, when
+she saw young Heir Schlieben step into her room about the time her
+Frida generally came home. She stammered with embarrassment: "No, Frida
+isn't at home yet--and Artur isn't either--and father is up in the
+lodge--but if you will put up with my company until--until--they
+come"--she pushed him a chair with a good deal of noise.
+
+He drew his chair close to the table at which she had been sewing.
+Now he was sitting where he used to sit. And he remembered his first
+invitation to the Lämkes' quite distinctly--it had been
+Frida's tenth birthday--he had sat there with the children, and the
+coffee and the cakes had tasted so excellent.
+
+And a host of other memories came back to him--nothing but pleasant
+memories--but still he and Frau Lämke did not seem able to start a
+proper conversation. Did he feel oppressed at the thought of meeting
+Frida again? Or what made him so restless there? Yes, that was it, he
+did not feel at home there now.
+
+There was something sad in his voice when he said to Frau Lämke as
+he held out his hand to her on leaving: "Well--good-bye."
+
+"Well, I hope you'll have a real good time--good bye for the
+present."
+
+He nodded in reply and shook her hand once more, and then he went.
+He preferred to go and meet Frida, that was better than sitting in that
+room. His heart was throbbing. Then he saw her coming towards him.
+
+Although it was dark and the street lamps not so good as in the
+town, he recognised her already far off. She was wearing the same
+sailor hat with the blue band she had had the summer before; it was
+certainly rather early in the year, but it suited her--so fresh and
+springlike.
+
+A feeling surged up in Wolfgang, as she stood before him, that he
+had never known in the presence of any woman: a brotherly feeling of
+great tenderness.
+
+He greeted her in silence, but she said in a glad voice: "Oh, is it
+you, Wolfgang?" and held out her hand to him.
+
+He strolled along beside her as he had done before; she had
+slackened her pace involuntarily. She did not know exactly on what
+footing they were with each other, but still she thought she could feel
+that he was no longer angry.
+
+"We are going away to-morrow," he said.
+
+"Well, I never! Where?"
+
+And he told her.
+
+She interrupted him in the middle. "Are you angry with me?" she
+asked in a low voice.
+
+He shook his head in the negative, but he did not say anything
+further about it.
+
+All she had intended saying to him, that she had not been able to do
+anything else, that Hans had found him out, that she had promised his
+mother and that she herself had been so extremely anxious about him,
+remained unsaid. It was not necessary. It was as if the past were dead
+and buried now, as if he had entirely forgotten it.
+
+When he told the girl, who was listening with much interest, about
+the Riviera where he was going, something like a new pleasure in life
+seemed to creep into his heart again. Oh, all he wanted was to get away
+from his present surroundings. When he got to the Riviera everything
+would be better. He had not got an exact impression of what it would be
+like there; he had only half listened, no, he had not listened at all
+when his mother told him about the south, it had all been so
+immaterial to him. Now he felt himself that it was a good thing to take
+an interest in things again. He drew a deep breath.
+
+"Are you going to send me a pretty picture post-card from there,
+too?" she asked.
+
+"Of course, many." And then he laid his arm round her narrow
+shoulders and drew her towards him. And she let him draw her.
+
+They stood in the public street, where the bushes that grew on both
+sides of it were already in bud and the elder was swelling with the
+first sap, and clung to each other.
+
+"Come back quite well," she sobbed.
+
+And he kissed her tenderly on her cheek: "Frida, I really have to
+thank you."
+
+When Frida went to business next morning--it was half past
+seven--she said to her mother: "Now he's gone," and she remained
+thoughtful the whole day. She had not spoken to Wolfgang for many weeks
+and she had not minded it at all during the time but since the evening
+before she had felt sad. She had thought much of him, she could not
+forget him at all.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+Käte was alone with her son. Now she had him all to herself. What she
+had striven for jealously before had now been given to her. Not even
+nature that looked in at the windows with such alluring eyes could
+attract him. It surprised her--nay, it almost saddened her now--that he
+did not show more interest. They travelled through Switzerland--he saw
+it for the first time--but those high mountains, whose summits were
+lost in the snow and the clouds and that moved her to tears of adoring
+admiration the first time she saw them, hardly wrung a glance from him.
+Now and then he looked out of the carriage window, but he mostly leant
+back in his corner reading, or dreaming with open eyes.
+
+"Are you tired?"
+
+"No," he said; nothing but "no," but without the surly abruptness
+which had been peculiar to him. His tone was no longer unpleasant and
+repellent.
+
+Käte looked at her son with anxious eyes: was the journey tiring
+him? It was fortunate that she was with him. It seemed to her that she
+was indispensable, and a feeling of heartfelt satisfaction made her
+insensible to the fatigue of the long journey.
+
+Wolfgang was not much interested in the cathedral at Milan. "Yes,
+grand," he said when she grew enthusiastic about the marvellous
+structure. But he would not go up to the platform with her,
+from which they would have a magnificent view all round as far as the
+distant Alps, as the weather was so clear. "You go alone, leave me
+here."
+
+At first it seemed ridiculous to her that she, the old woman, should
+go up whilst he, the young man, remained below. But at last she could
+not resist the desire to see all those marvellous things again that she
+had already once enjoyed. She took a ticket for the platform, and he
+opened one of the camp stools that stand about in the enormous empty
+cathedral and sat down, his back against a marble pillar.
+
+Oh, it was nice to rest here. After the market outside, with its
+noise and the buzzing of voices and all the gaudy colours, he found a
+twilight here filled with the perfume of incense. It did not disturb
+him that doors opened and closed, that people came in and out in
+crowds. That here a guide gave the visitors the information he had
+learnt by heart, drawling it quite loudly in a cracked voice without
+heeding that he meanwhile almost stumbled over the feet of those who
+were kneeling on low benches, confessing their sins in a whisper to a
+priest seated there. That there someone was celebrating mass--the
+priests were curtsying and ringing their bells--whilst here a cook
+chattered to a friend of hers, the fowls that were tied together by
+their legs lying beside her.
+
+All that did not disturb him, he did not notice it even. The
+delicious twilight filled his senses, he was so sleepy, felt such a
+blessed fatigue. All the saints smiled before his closing eyes, sweet
+Marys and chubby little angels resembling cupids. He felt at his ease
+there. Milan Cathedral, that wonder of the world, lost its embarrassing
+grandeur; the wide walls moved together, became narrow and home-like,
+and still they enfolded the world a peaceful world in which
+sinners kneel down and rise again pure. Wolfgang was seized with a
+great longing to kneel down there also. Oh, there it was again, the
+longing he had had in his boyhood. How he had loved the church their
+maid Cilia had taken him to. He still loved it, he loved it anew, he
+loved it now with a more ardent love than in those days. He felt at
+home in this church, he had the warm feeling of belonging to it. _Qui
+vivis et regnas in sæcula sæculorum._ The golden monstrance gleamed as
+it was raised on high, those who were praying bowed low, blissful
+harmonies floated under the high arched dome, ever more and more
+beautiful--more and more softly. His eyelids closed.
+
+And he saw Cilia--as fresh, as beautiful as life itself. Oh, how
+very beautiful. Surely she had not looked like that before? He knew
+that he was dreaming, but he was not able to shake off the dream. And
+she came quite close to him--oh, so close. And she made the sign of the
+cross--over him the organ played softly--hark, what was she saying,
+what was she whispering above him? He wanted to seize hold of her hand,
+question her, then he heard another voice:
+
+"Wolfgang, are you asleep?"
+
+Käte had laid her hand lightly on his hands, which were folded on
+his knees. "I suppose I was a long time up there? You have felt
+bored?"
+
+"Oh no, no." He said it enthusiastically.
+
+They went out of the cathedral together, whilst the organ sounded
+behind them until they reached the market-place. Käte was in ecstasies
+about the view she had had, so did not notice the mysterious radiance
+in Wolfgang's eyes. He was quiet, and seemed to agree to
+everything.
+
+           *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
+
+His manner began to cause his mother some uneasiness. What would
+have made her happy before--oh, how she had longed for a more docile
+child in bygone days!--saddened her now. Was he, after all, worse than
+they had any idea of?
+
+They had now reached the coast, had got to Sestri. Those were the
+same stone pines under which she had sat and painted as a younger woman
+eighteen years ago. But another hotel had come into existence since
+then, quite a German hotel, German landlord, German waiters, German
+food, German society, all the comfort the Germans like. Käte had wanted
+to live a retired life, to devote herself to Wolfgang; but now
+she felt she needed a chat with this one or that one at times,
+for even if she and Wolfgang were together, she felt alone all the
+same. What was he thinking of? His brow and his eyes showed that
+he was thinking of something, but he did not express his thoughts. Was
+he low-spirited--bright? Happy--sad? Were there many things he repented
+of and did he ponder over them, or did he feel bored here? She did not
+know.
+
+He kept away from everybody else with a certain obstinacy. It was in
+vain that Käte encouraged him to play tennis with young girls who were
+on the look-out for a partner; if he did not overdo it he might
+certainly try to play. He was also invited to go out sailing, but he
+did not seem to care for that sport any longer.
+
+Wolfgang lay right out on the mole for the most part, against the
+rocky point of which the blue sea flings itself restlessly until it is
+a mass of white foam, and looked across at the coast near San Remo
+swimming in a ruddy violet vapour or back at the naked heights of the
+Apennines, in whose semi-circle the white and red houses of Sestri
+nestle.
+
+When the fishing boats glided into the harbour with slack
+sails like weary birds, he got up and sauntered along to meet them at
+the landing-place. Then he would stand there with his hands in his
+trouser pockets, to see what fish they brought ashore. The catches were
+not large. Then he took his hands out of his pockets and gave the
+fishermen what money he had with him.
+
+If his mother had known what her son was thinking of! If she had
+guessed that his soul flew away with weary wings like a gull drifting
+over a boundless sea!
+
+Wolfgang was suffering from home-sickness. He did not like being
+there. Everything was much too soft, much too beautiful there; he felt
+bored. The stone pines with their pungent smell were the only things he
+liked; they were even better than the pines in the Grunewald. But he
+was not really longing for the Grunewald either. It was always the
+same, whether he was here or there he was always racked with longing.
+For what? For what place? That was what he pondered over. But he would
+not have liked to say it to his mother, for he saw now that she did all
+she could for him. And he found an affectionate word to say to her more
+frequently than he had ever done before in his life.
+
+So at last, at last I Käte often gave him a covert side-glance: was
+this the same boy who had resisted her so defiantly as a child, had
+refused her love, all her great love? This boy whose face had moved her
+so strangely in Milan Cathedral, was he the same who had lain on the
+doorstep drunk?--ugh, so drunk! The same who had sunk, sunk so low,
+that he--oh, she would not think of it any more.
+
+Käte wanted to forget; she honestly tried to do so. When she found
+him in the cathedral sitting near the pillar, his hands folded, his
+eyelids closed dreamily, he had seemed to her so young, still
+touchingly young; his forehead had been smooth, as though all the lines
+on it had been wiped away. And she had to think: had they not
+expected too much of him? Had they always been just to him? Had they
+understood him as they ought to have understood him? Doubts arose in
+her mind. She had always deemed herself a good mother; since that day
+in the cathedral she felt as though she had failed in something. She
+herself could not say in what. But sadness and a large amount of
+self-torturing pain were mingled with the satisfaction that her son had
+now come to her. Ah, now he was good, now he was at least something
+like what she had wished him to be--softer, more tractable--but
+now--what pleasure had she from it now?
+
+"Wolfgang still causes me uneasiness," she wrote to her husband.
+"It's beautiful here, but he does not see it. I am often
+frightened."
+
+When her husband had offered to go with them he had done so because
+he wished to save her in many ways--Käte had opposed it almost
+anxiously: no, no, it was not at all necessary. She would much prefer
+to be alone with Wolfgang, she considered it so much more beneficial
+both for him and for herself. But now she often thought of her husband,
+and wrote to him almost every day. And even if it were only a few lines
+on a postcard, she felt the need of sending him a word. He, yes he
+would find it just as beautiful there as she found it. As they had both
+found it in the old days. They had once climbed that path over the
+rocks together, he had given her his hand, had led her so that she
+should not feel dizzy, and she had eyed the blue glassy sea far below
+her and far above her the grey rocky promontory with the deep green
+stone pines that kissed the blue of the sky with a blissful shudder.
+Had she grown so old in those eighteen years that she dared not go
+along that path any more? She had tried but it was of no use, she had
+been seized with a sudden dizziness. That was because the hand
+was not there that had supported her so firmly, so securely. Oh yes,
+those had been better days, happier.
+
+Käte entirely forgot that she had coveted something so ardently in
+those days, that she had saddened many an hour for herself and him,
+embittered every enjoyment. Now she looked past the son who was
+strolling along by her side, looked into the distance with tender eyes
+in which a gleam of her lost youth still shone--her good husband, he
+was so alone. Did he think of her as she of him?
+
+That evening when Wolfgang had retired to his room--what he did
+there, whether he still sat up reading or writing or had already gone
+to bed she did not know--she wrote to her husband.
+
+It was not the length and the full particulars she gave in the
+letter that pleased Paul Schlieben so much--she had also written long
+detailed letters to him from Franzensbad at the time--but he read
+something between the lines. It was an unexpressed wish, a longing, a
+craving for him. And he resolved to go to the south. After all, they
+had lived so many years together, that it was quite comprehensible that
+the one felt lonely without the other.
+
+He settled the business he had in hand with energetic eagerness. He
+hoped to be ready to start in a week at the latest. But he would not
+write to her beforehand, would not write anything whatever about it, it
+was to be a surprise for once in a way.
+
+           *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
+
+The midday sun at Sestri was hot, but in spite of its gleaming power
+the air became agreeable and refreshing just a little before sunset. A
+sweet odour poured forth from every plant then, and this streaming
+wealth of perfume was so soothing, so delicious. Käte felt her
+heart overflow. Thank God, she was still not quite exhausted, not quite
+worn-out yet, she still possessed the faculty of enjoying what was
+beautiful. If Paul had only been there.
+
+High up, quite at the edge of the outermost promontory on that coast
+and surrounded by the white foam of the ardent sea that longs to climb
+up to the cypresses and pines, the holm-oaks and the strawberry-trees,
+the many sweet-smelling roses, lies the garden of a rich marchese. The
+mother and her son were sitting there. They were looking in silence at
+the gigantic sun, which hung red, deep purple just above the sea that,
+quiet and devout, solemn and expectant in the holy conception of the
+light, shone with the splendid reflection of it. It was one of those
+hours, those marvellous rare hours in which even mute things become
+eloquent, when the hidden becomes revealed, the stones cry aloud.
+
+The woman felt quite startled as she gazed and gazed: oh, there it
+was, the same gigantic red sun that she had once seen disappear into
+the waves of the wild Venn.
+
+Alas, that that thought should come even now and torture her. She
+turned quickly and looked at Wolfgang with timid apprehension--if he
+should guess it. But he was sitting on a stone, taking no interest in
+his surroundings; he had crossed his legs and his eyes were half
+closed. Of what was he dreaming? She had to rouse him.
+
+"Isn't that splendid, grand, sublime?"
+
+"Oh yes."
+
+"It's setting--look how it's setting." Käte had jumped up from the
+ivy-clad pine-stump and was pointing at it. Her cheeks were flushed and
+she was full of enthusiasm at the sight of the purple sea, the radiant
+light that was disappearing in such splendour. The tears came to her
+eyes; they were dazzled. When she looked again it struck her
+that Wolfgang was very pale.
+
+"Are you cold?" A sudden coolness blew from the sea.
+
+"No. But I"--suddenly he opened his dark eyes wide and looked at her
+firmly--"I should like to know something about my mother. Now you can
+speak--I'm listening."
+
+"Of your--your"--she stammered, it came so unexpectedly. Alas, the
+sun, the Venn sun. She would have preferred to have been silent now;
+now she had not the courage she had had before.
+
+But he urged her. "Tell me." There was something imperious in his
+voice. "What is her name?--Where does she live?--Is she still
+alive?"
+
+Käte looked around with terrified eyes. "Is she still alive?"--she
+could not even answer that. Oh yes, yes, surely--of course--she was
+still alive.
+
+And she told him all. Told him how they had got him away from the
+Venn, had fled with him as though he had been stolen.
+
+As she told him it she turned pale and then red and then pale
+again--oh, what a passion he would fly into. How he would excite
+himself. And how angry he would be with her. For they had never
+troubled about his mother since they left the Venn, never again. She
+could not tell him any more.
+
+He did not ask any other questions. But he did not fly into a
+passion as she had feared; she need not have defended her action when
+he remained silent for some time, positively make excuses for it. He
+gave her a friendly glance and only said: "You meant well, I feel sure
+of that."
+
+As they went down the steps leading from the park to the town he
+offered her his arm. He led her, to all appearances, but still
+she had the feeling as if he were the one who needed a support--he
+tottered.
+
+The cemetery at Sestri lies behind the marchese's garden. The white
+marble monuments gleamed through the grey of evening; the white wings
+of an enormous angel rose just above the wall that encircles the park.
+Käte looked back: did not something like a presentiment seem to be
+wafted to them from there--or was it a hope? She did not know whether
+Wolfgang felt as she did or whether he felt anything, but she pressed
+his arm more closely and he pressed hers slightly in return.
+
+She heard him walking restlessly up and down his room during the
+night that followed the evening they had spent in the garden of Villa
+Piuma. She had really made up her mind to leave him alone--she had
+looked after him much too much formerly--but then she thought he was
+still a patient, and that the agitation he must have felt on hearing
+her story might be injurious to him. She wanted to go to him, but found
+his door locked. He only opened it after she had repeatedly knocked and
+implored him to let her come in.
+
+"What do you want?" There was again something of the old repellent
+sound in his voice.
+
+But she would not allow herself to be deterred. "I thought you might
+perhaps like to--well, talk a little more about it," she said
+tenderly.
+
+"What am I to do?" he cried, and he wrung his hands and started to
+stride restlessly up and down the room again. "If only somebody would
+tell me what I'm to do now. But nobody knows. Nobody can know. What am
+I to do--what am I to do?"
+
+Käte stood there dismayed: oh, now he had such thoughts. She saw it,
+he had wept. She clung to him full of grieved sympathy. She did what
+she had not done for a long time, for an exceedingly long time, she
+kissed him. And shaken in the depths of her being by his "What am I to
+do?" as by a just reproach, she said contritely: "Don't torture
+yourself. Don't fret. If you like we'll go there--we'll look for
+her--we shall no doubt find her."
+
+But he shook his head vehemently and groaned. "That's too late
+now--much too late. What am I to do there now? I am no use for that or
+for this"--he threw out his hands--"no use for anything. Mother,
+mother!" Throwing both his arms round the woman he fell down heavily in
+front of her and pressed his face against her dress.
+
+She felt he was sobbing by the convulsive movement of his body, by
+the tight grasp of his hot hands round her waist.
+
+"If only I knew--my mother--mother--oh, mother, what am I to
+do?"
+
+He wept aloud, and she wept with him in compassionate sympathy. If
+only Paul had been there. She could not find any comforting words to
+say to him, she felt so deserving of blame herself, she believed there
+was no longer any comfort to be found. Before her eyes stood the _one_
+agonising, torturing question: "How is it to end?" engraved in large
+letters, like the inscriptions over cemetery gates.
+
+           *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
+
+Käte took counsel with herself: should she write to her husband
+"Come"? Wolfgang was certainly not well again. He did not complain, he
+only said he could not sleep at night and that made him so tired. She
+did not know whether it was moral suffering that deprived him of his
+sleep or physical. She was in great trouble, but she still put off the
+letter to her husband. Why should she make him hasten to them, take
+that long journey? It would not be of any use. It was still not clear
+to her that she wanted him for herself, for her own sake. She even
+omitted writing to him for a few days.
+
+Wolfgang lay a great deal on the couch in his room with the shutters
+closed; he did not even read. She often went in to keep him company--he
+must not feel lonely--but it seemed almost as though he were just as
+pleased to be alone.
+
+When she looked at him furtively over the top of her book in the
+semi-obscurity of the room, she could not think he was so ill. It was
+probably a disinclination to do anything more than anything else--a
+slackness of will-power that made him so apathetic also physically. If
+only she could rouse him. She proposed all manner of things, drives
+along the coast to all the beautifully situated places in the
+neighbourhood, excursions into the mountains--they were so near the
+highest summits in the Alps, and it was indescribably beautiful to look
+down into the fruitful valleys of the _cinque terre_ that were full of
+vineyards--sails in the gulf, during which the boat carries you so
+smoothly under the regular strokes of practised boatmen, that you
+hardly notice the distance from the shore and still are very soon
+swimming far out on the open sea, on that heavenly clear, blue sea,
+whose breath liberates the soul. Did he want to fish--there were such
+exquisite little gaily-coloured fish there, that are so stupid and
+greedy they grab at every bait--would he not shoot ospreys as well? She
+positively worried him.
+
+But he always gave her an evasive reply; he did not want to. "I'm
+really too tired to-day."
+
+Then she sent for the Italian doctor. But Wolfgang was angry: what
+did he want with that quack? He was so disagreeable to the old man that
+Käte felt quite ashamed of him. Then she left him alone. Why should she
+try to show him kindness if he would not be shown kindness?
+She despaired about him. It made her very depressed to think that their
+journey also seemed a failure--yes, it was, she saw that more every
+day. The charm of novelty that had stirred him up during the first days
+had disappeared; now it was as it had been before--worse.
+
+For now the air no longer seemed to agree with him. When they walked
+together he frequently stood still and panted, like one who has
+difficulty in breathing. She often felt quite terrified when that
+happened. "Let us turn round, I know you don't feel well." But this
+difficulty in breathing passed away so quickly that she scolded herself
+for the excessive anxiety she always felt on his account, an anxiety
+that had embittered so many years of her life.
+
+But one night he had another attack, worse than the others he had
+already had at home.
+
+It might have been about midnight when Käte, who was sleeping
+softly, rocked to sleep by the constant roar of the sea, was startled
+by a knocking at the door between their two rooms, and by a cry
+of "Mother, oh mother!" Was not that a child moaning? She sat up
+drowsily--then she recognised his voice.
+
+"Wolfgang, yes, what's the matter?" She threw on her morning-gown in
+a fright, pushed her feet into her velvet shoes, opened the door--there
+he stood outside in his shirt and with bare feet, trembling and
+stammering: "I feel--so bad." He looked at her imploringly with eyes
+full of terror, and fell down before she had time to catch hold of
+him.
+
+Käte almost pulled the bell down in her terror. The porter and
+chambermaid came running. "Telegraph 'Come' to my husband--to my
+husband. Quickly, at once."
+
+When the scared proprietor of the hotel also appeared, they
+laid the sick lad on his untidy bed again; the porter rushed to the
+telegraph station and for the doctor, the chambermaid sobbed. The
+landlord himself hurried down into his cellar to fetch some of the
+oldest brandy and the best champagne. They were all so extremely sorry
+for the young gentleman; he seemed to be lying in a deep swoon.
+
+Käte did not weep like the good-natured person the chambermaid,
+whose tears ran down her cheeks the whole time. She had too much to
+think of, she had to do her duty until the last. Until the last--now
+she knew it. It was not necessary for the doctor to shake his head nor
+to whisper mysteriously to the proprietor of the hotel--she knew it.
+Restoratives were brought from the chemist's; the sick lad's head was
+lowered, his feet raised, they gave him camphor injections--the heart
+would not be whipped on any more.
+
+Käte did not leave him; she stood close to his bed. The golden,
+invincible, eternal light was just rising gloriously out of the waves
+when he stammered something once more. She bent over him as closely as
+she had once done over the sleeping boy, when she had longed to give
+him breath of her breath, to mould him anew for herself, to give him
+life of her life. She had not that wish any longer. She let him go now.
+And if she bent over him so closely now, hung on his lips so
+affectionately, it was only to hear his last wish.
+
+"Mo-ther?" There was such a question in his voice. He said nothing
+further. He only opened his eyes once more, looked round searchingly,
+sighed and then expired.
+
+           *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
+
+The sun laughed in at the windows. And the woman, who, with dry
+eyes, was now standing at one of them looking out at the splendour, at
+the refreshing, glorious morning that was more sparkling than
+ever before, felt vanquished by the power of nature. It was too great,
+too sublime, too irresistible--she must bend the knee admiringly before
+nature, however veiled her eyes were. Käte stood a long time in deep
+thought. Outside was life, here in the room was death. But death is not
+the greatest evil. She turned round with a trembling sigh and stepped
+back to the bed: "Thank God!"
+
+Then she sank on her knees before the dead boy, folded his cold
+hands and kissed him.
+
+She did not hear that someone tapped softly at the door.
+
+"Madame." The chambermaid stuck her head in. And a man's head was
+visible above the chambermaid's.
+
+"Madame."
+
+Käte did not hear.
+
+"Here is somebody--the gentleman--the gentleman has arrived."
+
+"My husband?"
+
+Paul Schlieben had pushed the girl aside and had entered, pale,
+hurriedly, in great agitation. His wife, his poor wife. What a lot she
+had had to go through alone. The lad dead! They had met him with the
+news as he arrived unsuspectingly to surprise them at their
+breakfast.
+
+"Paul!" It was a cry of the most joyful surprise, the utmost relief.
+She fled from the cold dead into his warm arms. "Paul, Paul--Wolfgang
+is dead!" Now she found tears. Streaming tears that would not cease and
+that were still so beneficial.
+
+All the bitterness she had felt whilst her son was still alive
+disappeared with them. "Poor boy--our poor dear boy." These tears
+washed him clean, so clean that he again became the little innocent boy
+that had lain in the blooming heather and laughed at the bright sun
+with transparent eyes. Oh, if she had only left him there. She would
+always reproach herself for not having done so.
+
+"Paul, Paul," she sobbed aloud. "Thank God, you are here. Had you
+any idea of it? Yes, you had. You know how miserable, how unhappy I
+feel." The elderly woman clasped her arms round the elderly man with
+almost youthful fervour: "If I had not you--oh, the child, the poor
+child."
+
+"Don't cry so much." He wanted to console her, but the tears rolled
+down his lined face too. He had travelled there as quickly as he could,
+urged on by a sudden anxiety--he had had no letters from her--he had
+come full of joy to surprise them, and now he found things like this.
+He strove for composure.
+
+"If only I had left him there--oh, if only I had left him
+there!"
+
+The man entered into his wife's feelings of torture and
+self-reproach, but he pointed to the dead boy, whose face above the
+white shirt looked peculiarly refined, almost perfect, young and smooth
+and quite peaceful, and then drew her more closely towards him with the
+other hand. "Don't cry. You were the one to make a man of him--don't
+forget that."
+
+"Do you think so?--Oh Paul!"--she bowed the face that was covered
+with tears in deep pain--"I did not make him any happier by it."
+
+She had to weep, weep unceasingly in deep acknowledgment of worldly
+error. She grasped her husband's hands tremulously and drew him down
+with her at the side of the bed.
+
+The hands of husband and wife were clasped together over the son
+they had lost. They whispered, deeply repentant and as though it came
+from one mouth:
+
+"_Forgive us our trespasses._"
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON OF HIS MOTHER***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 30732-8.txt or 30732-8.zip *******
+
+
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/0/7/3/30732
+
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://www.gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit:
+http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+