ld, you looked upon anybody older than yourself as just
old. Now, he was astounded: how young Papa was; and how much older Mamma
was! True, her face was young still, but she had grey hair, she was
forty-three.... He could imagine Papa with a very young wife, a girl
almost, like one of the cousins, Louise or Emilie, or Floortje: Papa and
a wife like that would make a good pair.... How young he was, how young
he was!... He was now sleeping like a child, on Addie's stomach,
peacefully breathing.... Dear old Father!... No, not a bit old: as young
as a brother, as a friend, as a chum. So jolly too and so mad
sometimes.... And then suddenly he would try to be the stern parent!
Dear Father!--Addie laughed--That didn't come off at all! He loved him
like that: so young, such a friend, such a chum, such a brother....
Mamma was his mother, always, even though he did sometimes flirt with
her; but Papa was not a Papa, Papa was his friend and his brother. But,
young though Papa was, Addie nevertheless thought it strange that he had
said to him so often:

"My life is shattered, my career is done for."

Why was that? Was it only because Papa had had to leave the diplomatic
service when he was still quite young and had married Mamma? But Addie
was a sensible and prematurely intelligent child; and his bright, young
intelligence could not admit that; and, suddenly, Addie thought, if
things really were as Papa declared--his life shattered, his career done
for--then Addie thought it wrong, disapproved of it, thought it weak of
Papa, weak, morbid almost, yes, morbid. How was it possible that Papa,
since the day when he had sent in his resignation, had never done
anything but complain of that ruined career, reproaching Mamma with it,
silently or out loud, and only picking up a trifle at Brussels with
commissions on wine and insurances, whereas there was so much else:
life, the world, the whole world open before him! And to him, to the boy
himself, it was as though wide prospects stretched out before him, which
as yet he only divined as a dream of the future, which as yet he only
felt to be there, to exist for any one who is young and strong and
healthy and has brains. But, while he thus wondered and disapproved
within himself--so weak: why so weak?--he felt a sort of fond and gentle
pity amidst his wonder and disapproval, combined with a sort of need to
grow still fonder of that father, who was so young, so strong and ... so
weak. His boyish