have had a divorce . . . if my wife didn't care for me, if she cared for Erzeele."
"Yes, Father, I know, that's you. I'm different."
"You're better."
"No, not better. But, whatever I may be, I am first of all your son."
"You, my son? You're my friend, my pal; always have been."
"And suppose I now wanted to be . . . your son? I have come back feeling very sad and very tired, because I feel that I am much to blame."
"Nothing has happened?"
"No."
"What has happened? Nothing at all. You're too fond of thinking. What you have to do now is to seek your own happiness. Just selfishly."
"Perhaps . . . if I can. Perhaps that will become Mathilde's happiness too. We shall see. But I don't feel certain of myself. I don't know things. And I now feel . . . not your friend and pal but your son, Father. I seem to feel it for the first time."
"You always used to know things."
"For you, Daddie, and for Mamma. But now, now . . ."
"Now you're my son."
"Yes."
"My big boy."
"Father."
Van der Welcke was standing in front of him; Addie was sitting down. And Van der Welcke now took his son's head in his hands.
"Father," said Addie, "I wonder if you realize . . . how devotedly I love you! It's something that I feel only for my parents and for my children, not for any woman."
"You're a funny chap," said Van der Welcke.
