But the crowning good I had
brought to him was this journey into the world. The boy loathed the
clinging dignities that made of him, at home, a royal automaton, tricked
out in tarnished gold lace, faded velvets, and pompous airs. He often
spoke of the pleasures I had given him. One evening at Grote's inn I
answered:--
"Nonsense, Max, nonsense," though I was so pleased with his gratitude I
could have wept.
"It is not nonsense. You have saved me from becoming a mummy. I see it
all, Karl, and shudder to think of the life that might have been mine. I
take no pleasure in seeing gouty old dependents bowing, kneeling, and
smirking before me. Of course, these things are my prerogative, and a
man born to them may not forego what is due to his birth even though it
irks him. But such an existence--I will not call it living--saps the
juice of life. Even dear old mother is compelled to suppress her love
for me. Often she has pressed me to her breast only to thrust me away at
the approach of footsteps. By the way, Karl," continued Max, while
preparing for bed, "Yolanda one day at Basel jestingly called me
'Little Max.'"
"The devil she did," I exclaimed, unable to restrain my words.
"Yes," answered Max, "and when in surprise I told her that it was my
mother's love-name for me, she laughed saucily, 'Yes, I know it is.'"
"The dev-- Max, you can't mean what you say?" I cried, in an ecstasy of
delight over the news he was telling me.
"Indeed I do," he returned.
Pages:
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129