child away from its mother, took it into her own hands, the whole
child, body and soul.

So she only said: "So you believe--you really believe--oh, how happy
I am, Dr. Baumann, that you believe we have done right." She looked at
him expectantly--oh, how she yearned for him to confirm it and he bowed
his head:

"So far as our knowledge and understanding go--yes."

Wolfgang did not sleep the night before Palm Sunday. He had been
told at the last lesson that day that he was to prepare his thoughts.
And he felt, too, that the next day was an important day, a fresh
chapter in his life. He did his best to think of everything a boy
preparing for his confirmation ought to think of. He was very tired and
could not help yawning, but he forced his eyes open every time.
However, he could not help his thoughts wandering again and again; his
head was no longer clear.

What text would he get next day in remembrance of his confirmation?
he wondered. They had often talked about it at school, each one had his
favourite text which he hoped to get. And would he get the gold watch
early in the morning before going to church? Of course. Oh, how angry
Kesselborn and Lehmann would be then--those wretches! He would hold it
up before their eyes: there, look! They should be green with envy--why
should they always be whispering about him, meddling with things that
did not concern them at all? Pooh, they could not make him trouble
about it all the same, not even make him angry.

And still all at once he saw his own face so plainly before his
mind's eye and his mother's near it, as he had seen them in the glass.
There was not a single feature alike--no, not one.

It was really odd that mother and son resembled each other so
little. Now he was wide awake, and commenced to ponder, his brows knit,
his hands clenched. What did they really mean by their offensive
remarks? If only he knew it. He would be quite satisfied then, quite
easy. But he could not think of anything else as things were now, with
everything so obscure. All his thoughts turned round and round the same
point. It was a horrible feeling that tormented him now, a
great uncertainty in which he groped about in the dark. Light, light,
he must have light. Ah, he would see that he got some.

He tossed about restlessly, quite tortured by his thoughts, and
considered and pondered how he was to find it out, where he was to find
it out. Who would tell him for certain whether he was his p