of the misery that was engulfing his father, of the
dumb plea for help in his mother's eyes, of the nervous
tremors shaking his brother, the boy would suffer a
kind of triple anguish that at moments became almost
physical, and so poignant that it appeared past
endurance. Calling up every ounce of his strength
and courage, he would try not to feel appalled by
this thing which so greatly exceeded his understanding;
and as he sat on there white-faced and rigid, he would
fancy that he heard the words he was seeking being
spoken by someone a long way away, so that he could
not hear them quite clearly. Then would come the
strange thought: 'Distance does not exist, it is all
here and now, it has always been here; there is
neither time, separation nor distance. It is all here
and now, it is all in me . . . they are me, I am them,
and we are ... we are. . . .3 But the thought
would waver, grow dim and go out like a light that
a sudden wind had extinguished.
A great feeling of helplessness would possess him
bringing with it, quite often, an angry resentment.
He would set his young lips in a stern, bitter line,
refusing to meet his mother's eyes, refusing to see his
father's flushed face or the miserably labouring chest
of his brother; for just as he had tried to shun pain
in the past, even so he still struggled at times to shun it.
And occasionally it almost appeared as though he
had managed to stifle his pity, and when this happened
he went to his bed without saying 'good-night,5 hard of
heart and triumphant; without saying his prayers he
went to his bed, blowing the candle out very quickly
and hiding himself underneath the quilt, lest he see
his mother's eyes in the darkness.
S3
At this time there was seldom a tranquil evening,
for now his parents frequently quarrelled. They
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