said:

"Oh, 'Mr. Sergeant!' 'Mr. Sergeant!'"

He could not utter another sound, because he was smothered by his tears
and his cough....

This was the first time in my life that I saw my father crying. His
tears gripped hold of my heart, and chilled me to the very soul.

I stood and looked out of the window, swallowing my tears in silence. At
that moment, I was heartily sorry for all the mischief I had done. I
cried within myself, from the very depths of my heart, beating my
breast: "I have sinned." And within myself, I vowed solemnly to myself
that I would never, never anger my father again, and never, never cause
him any pain.

No more fiddle!

This Night

"TO MY DEAR SON,

"I send you--'_roubles_,' and beg of you, my dear son, to do me the
favour, and come home for the Passover Festival. It is a disgrace
to me in my old age. We have one son, an only child, and we are not
worthy to see him. Your mother also asks me to beg of you to be
sure to come home for the Passover. And you must know that Busie is
to be congratulated. She is now betrothed. And if the Lord wills
it, she is going to be married on the Sabbath after the Feast of
Weeks.

"From me,

"YOUR FATHER."

This is the letter my father wrote to me. For the first time a sharp
letter--for the first time in all those years since we had parted. And
we had parted from one another, father and I, in silence, without
quarrelling. I had acted in opposition to his wishes. I would not go his
road, but my own road. I went abroad to study. At first my father was
angry. He said he would never forgive me. Later, he began to send me
money.

"I send you--'_roubles_,'" he used to write, "and your mother sends you
her heartiest greetings."

Short, dry letters he wrote me. And my replies to him were also short
and dry:

"I have received your letter with the--'_roubles_.' I thank you, and I
send my mother my heartiest greetings."

Cold, terribly cold were our letters to one another. Who had time to
realize where I found myself in the world of dreams in which I lived?
But now my father's letter woke me up. Not so much his complaint that it
was a shame I should have left him alone in his old age--that it was a
disgrace for him that his only son should be away from him. I will
confess it that this did not move me so much. Neither did my mother's
pleadings with me that I should have pity on her and