They had lost count of the time; they had to be going. Wolfgang walked to the station between his parents. When they pa.s.sed the house where Lamke 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 Lamke 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. Kate 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. G.o.d 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 pa.s.sed through the crowded church, the young dark and fair heads bent low. Kate'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 circ.u.mstances, 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 G.o.d 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 pa.s.sed 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 G.o.d. 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 surrept.i.tiously 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 pa.s.sed 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 Kate 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 Lamke 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 Lamke now, and Wolfgang missed her. Well, that afternoon as soon as he could get free he would go to the Lamkes.

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 Braumuller, the oldest partner, a very jovial man, had amused himself by filling the boy's gla.s.s 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 Lamkes. 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 Lamke 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 Lamke 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 Lamkes. 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 Lamke 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 Lamke had turned scarlet and looked very embarra.s.sed. 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 Lamke hid her embarra.s.sment 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."