know. I only know that it must be so. There is no escaping
from it, and no getting out of it. It is horrible, but it is so.
Sometimes, Sigmund, there are things in the world like this."

"The world must be a very cruel place," he said, as if first struck with
that fact.

"Now dost thou understand, Sigmund, why he did not speak? Couldst thou
have told him such a thing?"

"Where is he?"

"There, in the next room, and very sad for thee."

Sigmund, before I knew what he was thinking of, was out of bed and had
opened the door. I saw that Eugen looked up, saw the child standing in
the door-way, sprung up, and Sigmund bounded to meet him. A cry as of a
great terror came from the child. Self-restraint, so long maintained,
broke down; he cried in a loud, frightened voice:

"_Mein Vater_, Friedel says I must leave thee!" and burst into a storm
of sobs and crying such as I had never before known him yield to. Eugen
folded him in his arms, laid his head upon his breast, and clasping him
very closely to him, paced about the room with him in silence, until the
first fit of grief was over. I, from the dark room, watched them in a
kind of languor, for I was weary, as though I had gone through some
physical struggle.

They passed to and fro like some moving dream. Bit by bit the child
learned from his father's lips the pitiless truth, down to the last
bitter drop; that the parting was to be complete, and they were not to
see each other.

"But never, never?" asked Sigmund, in a voice of terror and pain
mingled.

"When thou art a man that will depend upon thyself," said Eugen. "Thou
wilt have to choose."

"Choose what?"

"Whether thou wilt see me again."

"When I am a man may I choose?" he asked, raising his head with sudden
animation.

"Yes; I shall see to that."

"Oh, very well. I have chosen now," said Sigmund, and the thought gave
him visible joy and relief.

Eugen kissed him passionately. Blessed ignorance of the hardening
influences of the coming years! Blessed tenderness of heart
and singleness of affection which could see no possibility that
circumstances might make the acquaintance of a now loved and adored
superior being appear undesirable! And blessed sanguineness of five
years old, which could bridge the gulf between then and manhood, and
cry, _Auf wiedersehen!_

* * * * *

During the next few days more letters were exchanged. Eugen received one
which he answered. Part o