oulder and sat up straight. Now they were not
lovers any longer, only parents who had to think about their child.

And she only spoke of the boy.

Paul felt the sudden change in his wife. It depressed him: had they
gone back to where they were before? Did she already feel no interest
again in anything but the boy? He no longer felt any inclination to
speak of his journey.

The conversation became more and more monosyllabic; he bought a
paper at the next station, and she leant back in her corner and tried
to sleep. But she did not succeed in doing so, in spite of feeling very
tired; her thoughts continued to revolve round the one point: so there
was nothing the matter with him. Thank God! How indifferent Paul was,
to be sure. Would Woelfchen be very delighted when she came home? The
dear boy--the darling boy.

She must have slept a little at last nevertheless, for she suddenly
heard her husband's voice, as though far away, saying: "Get
ready, darling; Berlin," and she started up.

They were already among the innumerable lines that cross each other
there. Then the train rushed into the glass-roofed station.

"So we've got so far." He helped her out, and she began to tremble
with impatience. Would this running up and down stairs, this crossing
to the other side of the station, and then the waiting and watching for
the train to the suburbs never come to an end? Would not Woelfchen be
asleep? It would be dark before they got home.

"Is the train soon coming? What time is it? Oh dear, what a long
time we have to wait."

"Calm yourself, the boy is waiting for you, never fear. He sits a
long time with Cilia every evening; she hasn't much time for him during
the day. A nice girl. You've been very fortunate there."

She did not catch what he said, she was thinking the whole time how
she would find him. Would he have grown very much? Have changed?
Children at his age are said to change constantly--had he grown ugly,
or was he still so handsome? But never mind! she used to attach more
importance to his outward appearance--as long as he was good, very
good, that was all that mattered now. In her thoughts she could already
hear his shout of joy, already feel his arms round her neck, his kiss
on her mouth.

The wind, which had become pleasant towards evening after a day that
had been hot in spite of it already being autumn, fanned her face
without being able to cool her cheeks that glowed with emotion. As they
stopped in