but even in the days when he was irritated by the
crying of the little creature in the room upstairs,
he had felt pity too, because the cries had sounded
to him like wailings over the fate he had been born
to. And later, when he held the little hand in his,
he had certainly thought that this ought to have
been his own child. After such memories he would
sit for a long time, lost in thought
And again, sitting at his figures, trying to work
out how they were to make all the money for the
normal and the unexpected expenses, he would once
more begin worrying about the boy, fearing that
worse troubles were approaching for which he ought
to prepare himself quickly. Any day he might be
dismissed, and what was to be done then ? Send
him to America, as Diderik had suggested, or to the
East ? As though it wasn't just as necessary there
to have a basis of high principles in the struggle
to earn one's daily bread. And who was to keep
an eye on him so far away?
He picked up his pen again, he began on his
calculations, but something kept gnawing at his heart
and he wrote the figures down without thinking
about them because of something he saw in his
memory. Why had he taken in this child without
counting the cost ? He had been conscious of guilt,
but after so many years he no longer knew what
that guilt was. That his brother-in-law had made
away with himself had happened in fulfilment of