ime, and the boy remained a
stranger and in a gloomy disposition, since he displayed a proud and
stubbornly disobedient heart, did not want to do any work, did not pay
his respect to the old men, stole from Vasudeva's fruit-trees, then
Siddhartha began to understand that his son had not brought him
happiness and peace, but suffering and worry. But he loved him, and he
preferred the suffering and worries of love over happiness and joy
without the boy. Since young Siddhartha was in the hut, the old men had
split the work. Vasudeva had again taken on the job of the ferryman all
by himself, and Siddhartha, in order to be with his son, did the work in
the hut and the field.

For a long time, for long months, Siddhartha waited for his son to
understand him, to accept his love, to perhaps reciprocate it. For
long months, Vasudeva waited, watching, waited and said nothing. One
day, when Siddhartha the younger had once again tormented his father
very much with spite and an unsteadiness in his wishes and had broken
both of his rice-bowls, Vasudeva took in the evening his friend aside
and talked to him.

"Pardon me." he said, "from a friendly heart, I'm talking to you. I'm
seeing that you are tormenting yourself, I'm seeing that you're in grief.
Your son, my dear, is worrying you, and he is also worrying me. That
young bird is accustomed to a different life, to a different nest. He
has not, like you, ran away from riches and the city, being disgusted
and fed up with it; against his will, he had to leave all this behind.
I asked the river, oh friend, many times I have asked it. But the river
laughs, it laughs at me, it laughs at you and me, and is shaking with
laughter at out foolishness. Water wants to join water, youth wants to
join youth, your son is not in the place where he can prosper. You too
should ask the river; you too should listen to it!"

Troubled, Siddhartha looked into his friendly face, in the many wrinkles
of which there was incessant cheerfulness.

"How could I part with him?" he said quietly, ashamed. "Give me some
more time, my dear! See, I'm fighting for him, I'm seeking to win his
heart, with love and with friendly patience I intent to capture it.
One day, the river shall also talk to him, he also is called upon."

Vasudeva's smile flourished more warmly. "Oh yes, he too is called
upon, he too is of the eternal life. But do we, you and me, know what
he is called upon to do, what path to tak